A/N: Gonna be a bit of an Annabeth-centric chapter. Though this story has many perspectives, she's still technically the main character and a lot's happening for her rn.

PS I'm so happy to see many familiar faces in the reviews for Chapter 1. Also, shout out to Junebug, my very first reviewer for this story. :)

Disclaimer: All rights remain.

Annabeth

Annabeth hastily scurried down the corridor, muttering to herself under her breath. She'd spent the entire evening studying for the ball and now that it was here, butterflies flapped wildly in the pit of her stomach. Guests were already pouring into the grand ballroom and Queen Athena and King Frederick were already greeting royals.

The blonde turned the corner, not quite looking where she was going and ran straight into a very solid, very warm figure. "Shit!" It fell out of her mouth before she could filter it, before she could think it through, and her face immediately lit up like a Christmas tree in embarrassment.

"Oops," the body chuckled, a deep, pleasant sound.

"Malcolm!" Annabeth exclaimed, slumping as much as her corset would allow, her relief evident.

"Let's just pretend I didn't hear that," his steel grey eyes- the ones that matched both Athena's and Annabeth's softened when they met hers. His lips curved up at the corners in mild amusement.

"Of course," Annabeth quickly agreed. Ladies were not supposed to swear, and any good gentleman would refrain from cursing in front of a woman. Not that Malcolm hadn't dropped a couple colorful phrases in front of his little sister through the years. In fact, he had taught her most of it- a fact that oddly made Annabeth flush with pride and love. Malcolm, her big brother, was only two years older than her, and they'd always gotten along, even as kids. You know, except the occasional times Annabeth punched him too hard during training, or when he stole her scones right out from under her nose, leading to hair-pulling and name-calling. They'd had a good childhood, and even now, even as Malcolm was preparing to become King of Epresh, they were close, despite his royal obligations.

"Late?" Malcolm teased, smoothing down his silver dress uniform, though the silver was hardly visible over his lapels and entire chest- it was highly decorated with all types of medals and badges for Epresh's military, including a couple honor cords and a sash.

"A Princess is never late. Everyone else is simply early," Annabeth's eyes glittered, and she shared a half smile with her brother.

He grinned. "Indeed, Princess."

Annabeth smirked. "You're too kind, Your Highness," she joked. They never referred to each other by their titles: they were simply Malcolm and Annabeth, Annabeth and Malcolm. Two peas in a pod, good friends, peanut butter and jam, salt and pepper. A muscle in his cheek twitched and Annabeth could see, much to her delight, that he was trying to stifle his laughter. She'd always been able to make him laugh, perhaps the only one who could. She'd always taken great pride in being his pride and joy.

Malcolm glanced over Annabeth's appearance real quick, watching as she, too, awkwardly smoothed down her extravagant gown, ridding it of any wrinkles she may have received from body slamming him. "You look nice," he nodded at her, smiling charmingly. Her brother had always been quite the eye-candy and Annabeth herself had noticed girls fawning over themselves, something that the pair of them shared a laugh over, and often induced the occasional eye roll on Annabeth's part. "Better than your usual, messy self," he added nonchalantly, a gleam in his gaze.

Annabeth laughed, throwing her head back. "You clean up well too, pigsty," she nudged him, referring to his unruly study. Not that her papers were exactly in order either, but hey, at least the library was always left spotless after she used it.

"Well," Malcolm cleared his throat. "It must have been fate to run into you, now before the ball. Shall I escort you down, my Lady?" he shot her a sideways smile, and extended his arm for her to take.

Annabeth beamed in return, willing to play along with his little game. "I would be honored," she laughed, carefully placing her gloved hand on his forearm.

"What… what is that?" Malcolm asked, breaking the silence as the made their way to the ballroom.

"What?" Annabeth looked up at him, puzzled.

"That," he pointed to the black, slightly smeared marks peeking out from under her glove. He frowned.

"Nothing," she hurriedly replied, tugging nervously at the glove.

"Are those… notes?" Malcolm's voice was that of disbelief. Annabeth immediately expected to be reprimanded. Though they were close, Malcolm had never missed the opportunity to put her in her place when need be. After all, he was truly the only one who could reign in her wild, sometimes inappropriately out-of-control personality. Annabeth could vividly recall stepping on some Duke's foot when she was seven; he'd told her it was impolite for ladies to carry weapons. He'd howled too. What a baby. As rude as his comment, Malcolm, just turned ten at the time, had pulled her aside and gently explain why she couldn't go around attacking random idiots. That had been the first time Malcolm had swore before her.

"You can't murder every dumbass, Annabeth."

Her mouth had parted in a wide o of astonishment. He hadn't told her to pardon him for his language, but had just held her hand tightly to make a point, and looked her straight in the eyes until she felt uncomfortable, and bad. Reluctantly, she'd gone out and apologized to the fool. Malcolm had gotten her chocolate cake afterwards as a reward for being compliant and not making a scene. Malcolm had then told her something she never forgot, not even now, something she suspected she'd never forget:

"You go ahead and keep carrying your dagger. And maybe someday, you can teach that old geezer a lesson or two."

Malcolm had never been a particularly violent young boy. He played fair and square, he was a perfect gentleman and didn't have to have it trained into him like Annabeth had, and though he could beat most boys his age and even a few older in a battle of swords, and probably outshoot all of them with his eyes closed, he kept to himself, ever the soft spoken, intelligent, charismatic future leader of Epresh. But he understood Annabeth's fury than anyone else. He knew she wasn't just trying to stir up drama, nor cause a commotion. He knew his sister hated the notion that females could not anything better than a male, that she was weak or that she was stupider. He quietly gave her strength through the years, molding her into the fiery, bold young lady she was today, probably without even knowing the effect he'd had on her. Annabeth was forever grateful for his faith in her. His faith in her was the best thing in her life and without it, without him, she wasn't sure what she'd have done, or more a more horrifying thought, who she'd be now.

But now, he did the most unexpected thing. He laughed out of pure incredulity, squeezing her wrist gently. "Only you," said Malcolm, but not without affection.

Annabeth let a reluctant smile grace her features. "I just don't want to forget anything!" She prided herself on her impeccable, flawless brain.

"You never do," he snorted in the most un-gentleman-like manner. "Come. Mother will be awaiting our presence, and I'm sure we have introductions to make." Her hand still on his arm, they escorted each other to the party, full of prissy, pretentious guests. Neither of them were looking forward to it- they'd never quite fit in with the other kids, only with each other were they comfortable- but it was their duty and like always, they would deliver in every way.

Sharing a knowing look, Malcolm let go of Annabeth, albeit reluctantly, and sneaking a light kiss on the top of her head when he thought the royal guards weren't looking, they entered the grand ballroom, apprehensive, but confident.

Malcolm

To him, Annabeth had always been his better half. She made him stronger, she made him want to be a better man, she inspired to be the best- and all to please her. Her opinion mattered, and nobody else's, never anyone else's. Letting her go into the crowd of royals was quite possibly the hardest thing he'd ever had to do, and that was really saying something, considering he'd been the front soldier and general to many armies of Epresh, winning them all. Annabeth's lessons on strategy had been his saving grace a few times, though he would never openly admit it- oh, how she would gloat.

But it was hard for him to let her go, knowing all that he knew, it was hard to watch her make her way through the crowd, her golden curls- much like his- disappearing from his sight. She had always known her place; she needn't try to find it in this cruel, unusual, unpredictable world. But as her big brother, he couldn't help but worry for her. Athena had strictly prohibited him from warning her, from telling her all that he knew, and though he would have easily broken such rules in the past- anything for Annabeth- he had held his tongue just this once. A lot was riding on their mother's plan, quite possibly the success of their nation, the lives of their people, and as much as he loved his sister, he was to be married and then coronated for King. He could not break promises, not to his people, and not to his mother. Not anymore.

It was an exhausting thought, in a way. It forced him to acknowledge the fact that he was growing up, though he had known it for a while now: he was nineteen, for Gods' sake. Malcolm couldn't help but feel nostalgic for old times. Times when Annabeth was off doing something foolish and he had to stop her, save her from herself for that was always the only saving she ever needed. She was quite self-sufficient, he'd always known. But now, seeing her all dressed up in a ball gown, a spitting image of their mother, he felt his stomach knot uncomfortably.

She would leave soon, married to that Prince, and she would be out of his grasp, forced to fight it all by herself. And though Annabeth was strong, she had always had his full support, he'd always been able to charge in and save the day, like a knight in shining armor, whether that meant stopping her from beating some old Dukes and delusional Kings to bloody pulps, or calling the castle healer in himself to help bandage her training-induced skinned knee. And then she would be gone from Epresh, away from their House Ashington, though never forgotten. She would become a Princess of another land, not the one they'd grown up together in, and she would forget him. They would grow apart as most royal families did, making their own new royal families, one he would not be part of. And he would marry as well, marry as Athena had instructed. He would be bound to the Pevanshire girl, Bianca di Angelo of House Pevanshire, Princess of Jirot. Well, soon to be Crown Princess of Epresh. She would become the Queen of Epresh, taking Athena's place, and though Malcolm had heard only good things about Bianca, unlike some other princesses, he knew deep down that she did not love him either, that they were both doing this to protect their younger siblings, to keep their parents' wrath at bay, to please their respective kingdoms, to make their parents proud. They would live alone, though they were together, because though he had no doubt in mind that Bianca and him would become friends, they would never truly be connected like others.

In this manner, Malcolm found himself irrationally jealous of his people, of the simple townsfolk who resided in Epresh. In this case, they were the lucky ones, he couldn't help but think. They were free, something he could not say for himself, nor for his sister- a woman much too good for anyone else, in his opinion. He supposed he was still freer than Annabeth, and Bianca too. He would be King, the highest power in Epresh with the most powerful word, and he was a man, so in 1878, he held the most superiority. But he was not free like the simple people of Epresh, living their simple lives, free to love whomever they chose, to do as they pleased, to go on spontaneous adventures, to not marry, if that's what they chose. They were birds, free from any cage, and Malcolm was chained up. He had been chained up from birth, the expectations for him neatly stated from the moment he was brought into this world.

And Malcolm knew they struggled, struggled to make ends meet, to sometimes feed their children- all concerns he could barely imagine, and struggles he hoped to tackle as King. And he knew that his problems were "rich people problems," never truly comparing to their hardships, but this knowledge did not diminish his envy. After all, Annabeth had always jokingly told him that he did not use his brain sometimes, using only his heart, like her, too, sometimes. He wistfully imagined what it would be like to live that simple life, free from his own cage.

Malcolm tugged himself free of his daydream for now, knowing it would only bring him pain to imagine what he could never have, and turned back to the party. As much as he wished for a normal life, he loved his crown, he could not wait to be King, to change history, to do his part and make his parents proud, and this foolish daydreaming would only get him nowhere. He would leave his childish dreams at the doorstep and wake up and smell the fucking coffee, because he wasn't a small boy anymore and he had goals to accomplish, legacies to preserve, and people to please.

His grey eyes landed on a dark-haired beauty on the other end of the ballroom. He didn't know how he knew exactly, but somehow, without a doubt, Malcolm knew that was none other than Bianca di Angelo. She was strangely… bright. He wasn't sure how else to describe it. Though she was decked entirely in her house's colors, an elegant black gown and platinum jewelry- dull colors, by his own standard- she radiated warmth. She was like a sun and people were naturally drawn to her. In fact, many people did surround, men and women both, and a sweet smile enveloped her face.

Malcolm sighed in relief. He wasn't quite sure what he was expecting, but the future King of Jirot, Nico, was known to be quite a sulky, brooding young man, so he had half-thought Bianca would be similar. No, this wasn't love, but maybe this could work. Maybe they could be friends, maybe they could bond over their mutual understanding and love of their younger siblings.

His feet moving forward on their own accord, the crown parted before him, bows from many, but he hardly noticed. He knew what to do, Athena had instructed him accordingly. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted his mother looking at him cautiously, almost silently willing him not to fuck this up. Summoning what little courage he had left, he raised his glass of champagne, lightly clinking. As if by magic, the ballroom fell silent, a space cleared around him and Bianca, almost as if they'd been expecting this. This marriage, it was the first of three, the first of Athena's grand scheme. Though he full well knew that Bianca knew this was going to happen and that she was going to accept, he couldn't fight the nervousness rising in him. He composed himself, remaining calm despite the fact that he was about to pledge his life to her, when this was his first time ever seeing her in his entire life. Bianca looked at him expectantly and though he didn't know her, not truly, her steady gaze brought his some courage, pushed him forward. She nodded subtly, willing him to continue.

"I would like to make an announcement," he announced, his voice crystal clear and enunciated carefully- like a true King. The final murmurs of the crowd died down and a few glanced at Athena and Frederick, both of whom were regarding their son with patience and knowing.

"In the eyes of my royal father and the noble court, I would ask for your hand in marriage. I

pledge myself to you, Bianca di Angelo Pevanshire. Will you accept?" His tone was cool and collected, calm, though he felt anything but. Though it was phrased as a question, he already knew the answer: it had been dictated by both Persephone and Athena. His gaze landed on Annabeth and he saw her jaw drop, if only for a second before she collected herself as well. She had been kept in the dark by their mother, and for a moment, he felt guilty. But he knew that Annabeth would probably have tried to talk him out of it, so it was probably smart in hindsight. He looked away hastily, unable to stand her accusing gaze. She was sure to talk to him about this with him later, a conversation he wasn't exactly eager to delve into.

"I pledge myself to you, Malcolm Pace Ashington," Bianca's steady voice cut through the air. "I accept." He dipped his head in acknowledgement, making his way out of the spotlight as a round of applause pounded through the ballroom. Still, to him, his heart pounded louder in his chest. When he passed Athena, she patted his forearm reassuring, offering a gentle smile. Malcolm had not seen her look at him so proudly, not since he was a little boy and had won his first sparring match. Despite his worry, it calmed him, if only for a moment, something inside him softening. He walked past her, trying to ignore the sting of regret flaring up inside of him.

I accept, I accept, I accept. They felt like the final nails in his coffin, a door slamming shut behind him and locking with a click of finality. There was no going back now. This was his life. Malcolm tried desperately to wrap his mind around this. He had known only since this morning that this was to happen and he hadn't exactly had much time to cope with it. He knew he should probably speak with Bianca, exchange some small talk, perhaps get to know her a little- after all, they would be spending the rest of their lives together- but he found himself wandering instead, graciously accepting the congratulations of the guests, though his mind was somewhere else, running, probably, hiding too.

"Malcolm."

He looked up, eye to eye with none other than a straight mouth and serious eyes. He swallowed thickly.

"Annabeth."

Annabeth

"You knew," were the first words that fell out of her mouth. "You knew this was part of Athena's plan and you never told me." Annabeth felt like a toddler, throwing a ridiculous tantrum, but she couldn't help the betrayal flaring in her chest. Malcolm had never kept things from her and though she knew with certainty that their mother had instructed him to do so, it didn't battle the strong emotions swirling in her heart.

"I'm sorry," he allowed, pursing his lips carefully. "She told me not to say." He needn't mention who she was; they both knew.

"I figured. But… marriage, Malcolm?" Annabeth swallowed noisily. She knew nineteen really wasn't all that early for marriage, especially not for marriage. Many royals were betrothed by fifteen. But this was her brother and it all just felt very real all of a sudden. "Congratulations," she amended her previous words, her tone softer now, gentle, understanding. He must have not known for very long himself either. A sympathetic string tugged at her heart, pleading her to go easy on him.

"Thanks." It was strangely devoid of any emotion.

"So I wager you know much more about this plan than I do?" She couldn't fight the hurt in her voice. Why did Athena tell her nothing? Why, why, why?

He nodded reluctantly.

"So what else is she doing? What does your marriage have to do with anything? Malcolm, please," Annabeth hated to beg, but she was dying of curiosity, and she just wanted a heads-up, no surprises.

"I'm only supposed to tell you one thing," Malcolm confessed after some time.

Her heart was palpitating wildly in her chest and however illogical, she feared it would burst out of her chest right there and then.

"When he asks, you will say yes," Malcolm instructed.

"Excuse me?" Annabeth was bewildered. Yes? Him? Who was this he? What was she saying yes to? She suppressed her need to ask a million questions, sensing Malcolm's unease. "Okay," said Annabeth, not arguing for once in her life. He looked relieved, much to her own relief. "I love you, you know that, right?" They didn't say it often, but his stress was rubbing off on her, and she felt that it was warranted. He wasn't allowed to hug her, not here, not now, but he seemed so thankful, weak with relief.

"I should go speak with Bianca," he tried to rid his voice of any emotion, but Annabeth caught his thick tone, gruff with feelings and love. Sneakily, he reached out and squeezed her hand before anyone could see, and with that, he left her alone to socialize once more. Her throat feeling oddly constricted and tight, Annabeth turned, coming face to face with very blue-green eyes. Her heart leapt up in her chest and she took a step back, immediately.

"My apologies, Princess; it was not my intention to startle you."

Slowly, she glanced up at the stranger, her prior worries fading away to this new, unusual nervousness. She tried to place him, but she could not quite decide why he seemed so familiar and where in her studies, in her archives, she'd found him. Not wanting to reveal her notes by whipping them out for examination, she maintained a steady expression and relaxed her shoulders.

"It's quite alright," she allowed, amiably, debating whether or not he should bow. He had not yet but she wasn't sure if that was because he was of the same rank as her- a Prince of some foreign land, for she didn't recognize him in the slightest- or if he was simply being rude.

"Congratulations to your brother on his wedding," he said after a moment, dipping his head politely. "I am sure Queen Athena and King Frederick are more than pleased. House Pevanshire is a fine, fine family, and Jirot is quite the asset, what with their unimaginable wealth and highly valued gems, forging only the best of weapons. Your military will surely suffer no more."

Annabeth's lips parted in surprise. Never had anyone been so direct about the political motives behind marriage between royals. "Thank you," she managed to choke out, regarding his first statement and doing her best to ignore the rest of his mini tirade.

"Your dress is lovely," he finally said, breaking the awkward silence.

"Thank you," she repeated, still a bit shocked. "I beg your pardon, please excuse my deeply flawed memory, but who exactly are you?"

He just smiled, his neat row of teeth gleaming white, white like the color of his dress uniform- one similar to Malcolm's, though his was entirely blue and white, unlike Malcolm's stunning silver. It, too, was highly decorated, the markings of an expert general and military leader.

"I am no one of important, my Lady," he assured her, tactfully deflecting her question. If that's what he said, then why, oh why, did she suspect the exact opposite? Why did she have the sinking feeling she was standing in front of someone that she should've known, that she was only embarrassing herself and possibly offending him? Though, in all fairness, he didn't seem the least bit concerned by her lack of knowledge regarding his existence.

"What's your name?" she asked finally, peering up at him cautiously.

He pretended to ponder over the question. "Gertrude Markou," he said finally after the longest second of her life. "Duke of Tapin Side, Jobreau," he smirked like the devil and it sent shivers down her spine initially. Never once had she seen such an expression on a royal- or at least, she assumed he was. He carried himself with a certain self-importance that not even regular high houses could. Perhaps a Duke? It didn't seem to suit him.

Annabeth's right eye twitched. "What nonsense," she scoffed, indulging in his verbal jousting. If he wanted to play, she was more than prepared to win. "Jobreau has no Duke, not to mention Tapin Side is a myth, a place of children's fairy tales and nothing else. Do not lie to me on my own land in my own kingdom," she warned him menacingly.

"Jackson," he piped up before she could say much else or complain too much, an amused twinkle sparkling in his eyes, a smirk adorned on his face. "Percy Jackson."

It was so strange to hear someone introduce themselves without their title, not to mention, using what she suspected was a nickname (Perseus was probably his real name). For a moment she suspected he did not have one, and was one of the many high houses, but she could not believe it could be that way. There was simply something about him, something that felt too off to be part of the richer commoners. Maybe he was on a royal council, an even richer highest house? Annabeth raised her eyebrow at him, urging him to state his title. He seemed to catch the hint, but only smirked in reply, infuriating her with his obvious teasing.

"Annabeth Chase of House Ashington, Princess of Epresh," she introduced herself eloquently, hoping that social customs of introducing oneself would push him to formally introduce himself properly. She put extra emphasis on her title.

"I am aware," a sly grin spread across his face, revealing his dazzling, pearly white teeth. "We are in your castle under the invitation of your own lovely mother, after all." His tone was mocking, clearly pretending as if she was stupider than she truly was.

Annabeth's cheeks flushed pink slightly, both out of anger and embarrassment from broken pride, but mostly anger. "You are insufferable," she seethed, spitting it out of her mouth before she could stop herself. Malcolm was not here to reel her in and she had to control herself. Princesses were not to be as outspoken as she was, but somehow he didn't seem to mind, throwing back his head and laughing delightfully instead.

"Perseus Jackson of House Calbourne, Crown Prince of Thasite," he finally caved, thoroughly bemused by her reaction and easily irritated personality. Annabeth blinked, fighting the urge to gape at him. This was the son of the great Poseidon?! The future King of Thasite?!

Suddenly, Annabeth couldn't imagine how she'd managed to be so stupid. His eyes were a piercing, brilliant sea green, a trait unique only to his bloodline, and even then, rare among themselves as well. That's why he had seemed so familiar; he was one of a kind, and all eyes were on him now, seeing as he was next in line for throne and was surely to be married soon. Their royal family was very, very wealthy, as they practically controlled the seas and all ocean trade, all boat and fishing activity. He had already been betrothed to a beautiful young woman from across the seas, at least, that's what Athena had said when briefly explaining her plan to her daughter; she often left Annabeth out of her schemes, underestimating her daughter's competence and intelligence, as evidenced by the surprise Annabeth felt when Malcolm declared his marriage in front of all these people. Annabeth could only assume that Percy was marrying that young woman, the only lady left in Athena's grand plan. Percy's soon-to-be-wife's family was not much worse, seeing as part of their family descended from Asian dynasties, possessing powerful plants and expensive silks. Not only did the look gorgeous, top of the fashion industry, but they were deadly too. In fact, Annabeth's own kingdom traded with them often, as their intellect and war strategy were their biggest valuables and they needed the precious herbs to forge powerful potions and medicines. No strategy was complete without a little sneaky tactic, after all.

It was at that moment Annabeth finally realized. This is what her mother, Athena had been saying when lecturing her daughter about the importance of making the best possible impression on Percy. She intended to build an empire, an alliance stronger than anything else in all of history. She had told Malcolm to be respectful to House Pevanshire of Jirot, which controlled practically every metal in the world. This could only mean that Bianca di Angelo was to marry her older brother and become Queen of Epresh. Before Annabeth could even stomach the thought of her own brother's wedding, her mind was flying.

The Ashington bloodline, the Calbourne bloodline, the Pevanshire bloodline, and the Raya bloodline, combining to create an unstoppable force. If Percy was betrothed to Drew Tanaka of House Raya, Crown Princess of Sumisu, and her older brother, Malcolm Pace of House Ashington, Crown Prince of Epresh, to Bianca di Angelo of House Pevanshire, Princess of Jirot (soon to be Crown Princess of Epresh), then Annabeth was soon to be married off as well, surely to secure the Ashington bloodline in this powerful force. If Ashington was already tied to Pevanshire through Malcolm and Bianca, that left Calbourne and Raya. She recalled all she knew of the Calbourne bloodline and the Raya bloodline, realizing that the Raya bloodline was made up of all daughters and the Calbourne bloodline had two sons. If Percy, one of the sons, was betrothed already then… it all made sense.

Annabeth was to be betrothed to none other than Percy's younger brother, Luke Castellan Calbourne.

Annabeth

If she was being completely honest, Annabeth was beginning to feel a little faint. It wasn't that she didn't suspect a betrothal sometime in the near future, no, she wasn't nearly that dense. She just hadn't the news to be introduced to her by some stranger, not her brother, not her mother, not even her father. It was quite the shock indeed and she blanched, trying desperately to steady her wildly palpitating heart.

"Princess? Lady Chase? You're beginning to look a little pale," the Prince commented, momentarily ripping Annabeth out of her mini mental breakdown. How rude. She tore her gaze from the floor, scrutinizing him carefully.

"Thanks," said Annabeth sarcastically. She glared at him but he didn't flinch or seem to notice.

"A drink, please?" she heard him request in the back of her mind. His words were a bit fuzzy at this point, his face a tad blurry. Not that she minded; it was revolting to have to see him anyways, what with his unsettling, hard gaze and crooked smile. Screw him.

"Here," he thrust something in her hands and she refused to jerk her hand away, even when his fingers brushed her gloved ones, determined to allow him no satisfaction. She curled her hand around the glass stem, the cool exterior seeping into her skin and providing temporary relief. It grounded her.

"Thank you," she murmured, Athena's voice chastising her in her mind. He allowed a curt nod, peering at her curiosly as she cautiously took a sip. As the cold liquid slid down her throat, she sighed, contentedly. The wine was familiar- her mother's favorite wine to serve at these big balls- and relieved her tension, even if only for the moment.

"Luke's quite nice," Percy mentioned, much to Annabeth's annoyance. His forehead creased in concern. "If that's what made your natural flush disappear so quickly," he added, almost as an afterthought.

All of a sudden, Annabeth couldn't help but hate him. Hate him for everything he was and everything he was supposed to be. Hate him for being about to become King of Thasite very soon, for being next in line to become another cruel, cold, calculated leader who did nothing but sit on his ass all day, watching indifferently as the impoverished of his country suffered. She fucking hated his guts and the monarchy and how nice he was trying to be. She was never supposed to like Calbournes; Poseidon was a sleazy sneak and a terrible King, at least in her humble opinion. He spent more money, resources, and time in investing in stupid new military ships, though he already had way too many for one country. And besides, he only sent out his own people die in his wars, probably polishing his ships for the millionth time. Percy was her born rival, so why should she even bother with an amiable disposition? And Luke too, she supposed she did resent him a little, though she had never even spoken to him in her entire life. She doubted she was arrogant and obnoxious as his older brother- nobody could really be, could they? But that didn't mean she had to like him any more. She could despise people as she pleased, couldn't she? Who was anyone to tell her she couldn't hate whoever she'd like?

Annabeth glowered at him as he continued to speak. He wasn't really looking at her, the only reason she supposed he was still talking- he probably had not yet realized her drastic change in mood. He was saying about her castle and how lovely it was. Annabeth knew for a fact that he would be staying in her castle for some time, his brother as well, and so would the Raya and Pevanshire children. They were all connected to Athena's mastermind plan, someway, somehow. It was tradition to stay, the betrotheds. Their parents would leave, but they would be here, encroaching in her space, sitting in her chair in the library. Now Annabeth was supremely pissed off and she wished she could just murder him, really. This was ridiculous, this whole thing was blasphemy, what exactly was Athena thinking? Was she even thinking? Was she on drugs? Honestly. Annabeth didn't trust those dirty Calbournes, not one bit. And if they wanted a shot at her respect, she decided right then and there that both Luke and Percy would have to earn. The same went for the Raya daughters: Silena, though she was married and not here, Drew, and Piper. Only the Pevanshire children- Bianca and Nico- had her unwavering faith and trust.

Fortunately, for Percy's sake, a man somewhere across the ballroom summoned him, interrupting their conversation before she slapped his dumbass.

"Prince Perseus!" a deeper voice called. Annabeth, alongside Percy, turned to face a middle-aged man, around the same age as King Frederick, with dark hair and the same startling sea green eyes as Percy. With a jolt, Annabeth realized that must be King Poseidon, the man Percy would soon replace on the throne. She involuntarily shivered, no matter how miniscule. Royal succession had always made her uneasy: there was just something about how they passed along a country as if it was a family heirloom, owned entirely by one being, a playtoy that some generations destroyed more than others, that put her on edge. "Please, do the honors."

Percy's face darkened and though she suspected nobody else had seen the fractional change in his expression, Annabeth couldn't help but ponder his thoughts. What was he thinking? What he must he do? Why does he look so stiff? The curious blonde set her wine glass on a passing servant's tray, watching as Percy approached his father.

"Annabeth," Athena looked at her. She needn't call for her like Poseidon; Annabeth could feel her mother's melting gaze from a million miles away. "You too."

Her? She frowned in confusion, the perplexed expression fading as soon as she realized the implications of her mother's tone and Malcolm's prior words: When he asks, you will say yes. And Percy too. Though she really had no reason to believe a peep that came out of his mouth, when he'd announced her engagement to his own brother, Luke, she had detected no malice in his words, only confusion at her bewilderment and truth. She thought she was going to throw up.

As elegantly as she could manage, Annabeth made her way up to the center of the ballroom, stepping onto a small platform next to her mother, who stepped down immediately and stood by Frederick at the side, and Percy.

Sure enough, bobbing through the crowd, people parting for his presence, a young man, probably only a few years younger than Percy, made his way to the front. He had sandy blond hair, whiter than her golden curls, and crystal blue eyes- eyes more watery than Jason. Come to think of it, he looked an awful lot like her bodyguard/best friend. He, too, had a scar, though at first glance, his was much more noticeable. It was faded and white, running from the corner of his eye to his jaw. He was tall too, taller than her which only made her want to scowl (she was awfully used to towering over people), and he had broad shoulders, toned from training. She immediately tilted her chin up, asserting her dominance before he could even glance at her. Quietly, she compared him to Percy. They were like the sun and the moon, as corny as it sounded. Though Luke had the blond hair and Percy was darker, both in hair and eyes, to her, Percy was the sun. He just emitted very sunny, friendly, relaxed vibes. Only that fed to Annabeth's unease. Because Luke was the moon, cool, hushed, and private, she immediately felt closer to him- even though she was fairly sure he had earned that scar in some nasty combat, which made him a bit intimidating.

Losing track of her surroundings as she contrasted both brothers, Annabeth barely noticed when another girl delicately stepped onto the platform. With mild triumph, Annabeth revelled in the fact that she indeed towered over the dark-haired young woman. She had dark brown eyes, brightened by wildly colored purple eye makeup, and sleek, black hair- hair even Annabeth was envious of. Her unique features immediately gave her away, however, and identified her as one of the ones from House Raya. But which one?

Annabeth pursed her lips, subtly observing her out of the corner of her eye. The eldest daughter was married, so it was most likely not her… in fact, it was probably…

The blonde stiffened in realization: Drew Tanaka of House Raya, Crown Princess of Sumisu. She was to take Queen Medusa's position when she married Percy, at least, that was she suspected. She watched carefully as Percy traded a reluctant glance with his father. Her heart hammered nervously in her chest. She had to say yes, or did she? Yes, she did. She swallowed noisily.

"In the eyes of my royal father and the noble court, I would ask for your hand in marriage. I

pledge myself to you, Drew Tanaka Raya. Will you accept?" His voice was clear and confident, just like a ruler's should be, but her attention fixated on the way his finger tapped his other hand twice, what she could only assume was a nervous gesture. Percy's words only confirmed Annabeth's suspicions. Drew would be Queen by this time next year and if all went as planned, perhaps they wouldn't be in the midst of a bloody war.

"I accept." She was cool, collected, poised, everything Annabeth was supposed to be, but had added her own flair to- a flair she suspected Athena did not approve of.

Luke glanced momentarily up at his brother before looking at her and her blood immediately roared in her ears. His gaze was heated and she could feel the pressure in her rising, threatening to choke her. She only had to say two measly words. Surely even she couldn't fuck that up.

"In the eyes of my royal father and the noble court, I would ask for your hand in marriage. I pledge myself to you, Annabeth Chase Ashington. Will you accept?" he repeated Percy's proposal, exchanging her name for Drew's. Her name sounded strange in his mouth, almost as if she was hovering over this scene up in the heavens above, critically watching as the nervous, golden-haired girl trembled at his words.

"I accept," Annabeth managed to say, her voice steady, though her emotions were anything both. She felt like a wreck, about to collapse any second. A wave of exhaustion crashed into her and suddenly she wanted nothing more but to curl up in her library and lose herself in her books. What would Jane Eyre do? What about Lucie Manette? Or Elizabeth Bennet? Annabeth clasped her hands together in front of her, hoping to steady her arms, praying desperately that this spotlight would shine elsewhere, not on her and her weaknesses.

Finally, after what seemed like a million years, Athena began to talk, her natural charisma drawing the royals in. She made a toast to happy marriages for Malcolm and Bianca, Percy and Bianca, and finally for Luke and herself.

However, Annabeth had stopped listening a little while back, her head throbbing, an unnatural buzzing filling her brain and ringing irritatingly. She absentmindedly if Malcolm had felt this way: trapped, as good as dead, done for. She could see her freedom slipping between her fingers, she could see the light, and though she had no doubt that Luke would only speak to her when necessary, she wasn't sure was cut out for this lifestyle, this purely political marriage. She was married to her cause, to the future of Ashington. Again, she paled at the thought. She would be torn from this home, sent to live in stupid, watery, Thasite. Thasite had so many bodies of water she feared she would drown, and it always smelled of salty sea water like Percy- not necessarily unpleasant, but unfamiliar. It would never be her home, Luke would never be her home. Annabeth could practically see her next few weeks now, clear as day. Choosing between a bunch of white dresses that all looked the same to her, fussing over flowers and food, picking a cake, and a new crown, picking rings, all to be some other country's Princess. Annabeth pushed the bile down in her throat.

Though she was still standing on Epresh soil, she already felt like she was drowning in Thasite, her head under water, screaming desperately for someone to come save her, but she was utterly and hopelessly alone. The water was filling her lungs quickly, sparing no air and swallowing the words in her throat as it pulled her under, never to see the light again.

A/N: Unfortunately for Athena, her daughter's never been one to quietly obey instructions. Next chapter I hope to delve more into what Annabeth's fighting for and perhaps explore a little more with how Annabeth and Luke's dynamic differs from hers and Percy's. I'm hoping to break into Nico's mind a little too. :)

Anyways, if you want to review or shoot me a PM, feel free to, but of course, no pressure. :P Until next time~

Fangirl xx

I know I'm pretty much sealing my death wish by responding to reviews, but some of you had some intriguing thoughts, so I'll do my best to keep this short and sweet. :P

BethnPercy: Never apologize for long reviews! They're my absolute favorite, but unfortunately, unlike my last story, I'm going to try to stick to my promise of keeping A/Ns short and sweet, so my replies will only address any questions/predictions, though I enjoyed reading the entire review. :)

Indeed, Percabeth is already canon. I always find it funny when authors try to make it mysterious, like no, we all know Percabeth is always endgame, lesbereal. That would def be awesome, but I've kinda already written out my plans for the individual characters, so I guess you'll just have to wait and see haha. As for who Drew is betrothed to, well… now you know lol. I guess I'm just concerned that you thought Nico's country was more powerful than Percy's. I'm not sure how I fucked up already haha, but I'd say they're pretty equal. Both of them will just be Kings of different countries, it really just depends on your opinion and what you think is more valued. Ports and sea access is very important but so is precious metals, so it all comes down to how you feel about Thasite and Jirot. Loved your review and I hope this chapter answered some questions!

Reader: Hi, again! Like I said to BethnPercy, I'm sorry that this reply will be kinda short, but I'm trying here haha. Thank you for your enthusiasm; it was definitely infectious. :) Thank you very much- I'm flattered. Rick is an incredible writer and to even be compared to him, it's an honor.

If I'm being completely honest, I have no damn idea how I came with the houses/countries. I just knew I wanted those kind of things so I tried to think of varying powerful things and assign them to different places.

Regarding your question about Sally, I am definitely considering adding her in, I'm just not sure how yet or even if I will at all. Funny enough, I had thought of both the ideas you suggested. I was leaning more towards your first one, because the second one is too similar to Red Queen's plot, but I'm not sure if that'll just become another subplot I have to worry about. I kind of want to add her in, but it's very confusing how I will. The reason I used Amphitrite as the Queen and not Sally is because I feel Sally could never be pretentious enough to be a Queen like this and that if she was Luke and Percy's mother, both boys would have grown up a lot differently than they have (you'll see what I mean as I develop both of their separate characters). So pretty much, long story short, I want to add her in, but I'm not sure how, so I'm not yet sure that I will. If I do decide to, I'll be sure to let you know haha. Thank you for the incredible review and for sticking with me to this new story~