Disclaimer: I do not own PJO

Annabeth's POV

A gladiator was cut down in front of me, and the crowd exploded into cheers. I didn't see how it was entertaining; watching people take each others lives. It was barbaric, and completely useless, but I was forced to watch it and was expected to enjoy it like the rest of the royal family. And by family, I mean my father.

My name is Annabeth Chase, I'm a princess.

My father is the king, and as the royal family, we are to attend all gladiatorial events in the colosseum. That's where we are now; in our respective thrones, perched on a balcony overlooking the arena. We had a perfect view, and it would be impossible to miss a second of the blood bath from our position. Unless of course you closed your eyes, like I did.

Not the whole time, but at the end, when the gladiator executes his opponent, I just can't watch. My father stands up and walks to the edge of the balcony, and all eyes are on him. He sticks out his hand, and the crowd falls silent. Then, like he always does, he points his thumb down, and the crowds cheers are renewed with extra ferocity.

The gladiators know what the signal means, and they bring their weapon down, finishing their subdued opponent.

That I couldn't watch. If a man died on his feet, fighting, that at least was fair. But killing a defenseless man was just, wrong, and I couldn't bring myself to see it.

The winning gladiator jogged from the arena, and the corpse was dragged out after him. As the gates opened and the next two fighters emerged, I wished I could just run away and hide. It was my fiancé, Luke.

Luke called himself a gladiator, and a damn good one by his own opinion. He believed that you weren't a real man until you had taken another's life, and he had done that many times. But that didn't mean he was any good at what he did. He hand picked all of his opponents, to ensure his victory, and he always picked the old, the weak, or the injured. They never stood a chance, but Luke murdered them all mercilessly.

Then why, you ask, am I engaged to such a disgusting creature? It's not my choice, but my fathers. Luke's family, the Castellans, have a LOT of money, and my father firmly believed that the man with the most money was the man best suited for his daughter. And thus our betrothal had been arranged. Our families will be joined and our wealth will be shared, making my father even more powerful.

I did not and do not agree with this at all, but my father thinks he knows best, so there's nothing I can do about it.

I watched in disgust as Luke strode into the arena, chest out and head held high, to face his opponent; a small, skinny boy with a limp in his right leg. They fought, and before long the boy collapsed from exhaustion, and Luke held his sword to the boy's neck. He didn't wait for my fathers signal, but struck immediately, stabbing the boy in the arm. The boy cried out in agony, and Luke stabbed him again in the other arm. The boy cried out again, and I couldn't take it anymore.

"ENOUGH!" I screamed, getting up.

The crowd went silent and Luke stared up at me angrily. It was quiet except for the young boy's soft whimpers far below. Luke gave me a look of hatred, then his blade slashed across the boy's chest, and he was done.

No one cheered as Luke exited the arena.

"I'm sorry Annabeth," said my father, "I should have done that."

"Well you didn't," I said angrily, "someone had to."

I turned away from my father, and we spent the rest of the day in silence.

As the events in the colosseum drew to a close, we were escorted from the building and into our carriage by the royal guard. The carriage pulled away, and people on the streets started to bow down.

I hated that too; people shouldn't have to bow to me. Just because my father is the king doesn't make me any better than them.

Our carriage rattled down the cobblestone streets as we neared the town square, and I saw it was slightly more packed than usual. A group of soldiers held a chain strung with slaves. That explains it, I thought, and turned my attention back to the steady bumping of the carriage. Then something caught my eye. Something different.

Looking out of the carriage I noticed that everyone was bowing. Everyone except one. A slave. A boy of about seventeen, my age, was standing firm, refusing to kneel. He was quite handsome, with his black, windswept hair, and deep green eyes. Our eyes met and his widened slightly as he saw me, that made me smile. He smiled back briefly, but it was wiped off as a soldier slammed his heavy gauntlet into the boys back, forcing him down.

I cringed and looked away, not able to witness any more brutal violence today.

The carriage pulled up to our property and I ran towards the house. We had a huge property, and it took a good ten minuets to get to the house from the road.

A small river cut across my path, and I bounded over the bridge that spanned it, then continued to dash through fields and gardens, courtyards and more, until I finally came to the house.

The house was massive; huge oaken doors, tall stone towers, and a long gabled roof. The colossal structure was quite intimidating, but the bright white walls and beautiful flower beds gave it a serene and peaceful feel. It almost felt homey, except for the fact that the servants outnumbered my family members twenty to one, so I saw them more than I saw my father. That didn't bother me though, as long as I got to spend time with Thalia, my personal servant.

As I threw open the front doors and rushed to my bedroom I was greeted by an entire house filled with bows and "my lady's". It was aggravating. I couldn't stand it, and was glad when I got to my room and locked the door behind me.

As I barged in I startled Thalia, who was dusting a picture frame, and she dropped it.

"What the hell are you doing?" she yelled, "barging in like that. Scared me half to death you moron!"

"Excuse me?" I said, eyebrow raised.

Her eyes widened as she realized it was me.

"Oh! Your highness," she said, startled, as she half bowed half bent to pick up the glass, "I'm so sorry, I don't know what happened, I was just dusting and-"

I smiled as she babbled on worriedly.

"It's fine Thalia, dads still outside." I said.

Thalia immediately dropped the glass in her hands and stood up, giving me an exasperated look.

"Maybe you could've started with that?"

"Sorry Thals, next time." I said and sat down on my bed.

"Well I'm not cleaning this up," she said, kicking the pile of glass, "that's your problem."

I rolled my eyes. Thalia's supposed to be my maid/servant, but she doesn't really do any work. I had met her in the market a few years ago. Her family had been killed in a fire, and she was looking for work. I convinced my father to give her a job here, and I requested her as my personal servant, so I would have someone my age to talk to. Since then, we've become really good friends, and she refuses to clean for me anymore. That's just fine with me though.

"So," said Thalia, jumping onto my bed and sitting next to me, "another bad day?"

I nodded. We'd talked about the colosseum thousands of times, so she knew what it meant when I said I had a bad day.

"And Prince Dumb-Ass?" she asked, referring to Luke.

I smiled briefly at the name, but lost it when I remembered what happened today.

"He killed another slave. Just a kid this time." I said bitterly.

Thalia sighed and shook her head angrily.

"One of these days he's going to pick the wrong guy and get himself killed." she said fiercely. "I can't wait for that day."

I agreed wholeheartedly.

"Me too Thals, me too."

Changing it up a bit, but it's all good. Just working out the kinks.

R&R.