Hola, peoples. Anyone miss me? I know I missed you.

Thank you to EVERYBODY who reviewed. I love you all. I have to admit, you all were making me so happy every time you reviewed that I was checking every ten minutes to see if I got another review.

So, I was just rereading Chapter 2: Peasant Boy, and realised that the third paragraph is actually one huge, long sentence. Woops. My bad.

But I can't be bothered going to change it, even if my English teacher would scold me on having the world's worst run- off sentence.

Oh well. Who cares, really?

And also, in Peasant Boy, I added in a bit of Prachel. I know some people might hate me for that, and I hate myself for it, and I know I promised Percabeth, but you'll have to bear with me for a few chapters. This is a Percabeth story and Percabeth rules forever.

Never fear, Percabeth will live! (in later chapters).

Please read on and ignore my ranting about run- off sentences and Percabeth.

Chapter 3:

Liar Liar You're On Fire

When Annabeth was feeling miserable, she would find refuge in the attic. There were thousands of dusty old scrolls. Annabeth liked to suck up knowledge like a vacuum cleaner sucks up dust. Lighting a candle to illuminate the attic, Annabeth settled down with her latest find- a scroll on the architecture of the Parthenon in Greece. Of course she already knew all the facts, but it was fun to compare her own knowledge to- she squinted at the author's name, trying to decipher it through her blurry eye sight- to Daedalus Quintus' knowledge.

"Annabeth!" Thalia yelled, ripping Annabeth from her peaceful reading time.

"What?" she called back, annoyance lacing her voice.

Thumps coming up the stairs. Thalia appeared at the doorway, coughing and gasping. "Geez, how can you breathe up here? It's so dusty I can barely see three feet in front of me!"

Annabeth didn't say anything in response.

"Anyway, dinners prepared. Come and get it when you're ready. And don't forget to extiunguish the candle." Thalia disappeared again, coughing and retching and cursing about the stale air.

Annabeth sighed and put down her scroll. She really didn't want to go down there and see the open window, feel the cool breeze wash over her, just reminding her of something that was always there but just out of her reach.

But she knew that Thalia would keep on bugging her until she came down. She stood up to stretch, and was making her way down the staircase when a loud crash echoed through the old building.

She sprinted down the staircase, trying not to trip over her too long skirt. That was a project she and Thalia would have to work on. Cut all of Annabeth's skirts and sew them to make trousers. Her father had basically disowned her, so she didn't have to be a Lady anymore, right? Didn't have to be elegant, polite, presentable at all times? Didn't have to wear a skirt every minute of every bloody day?

The answer to that was a loud and proud "NO!". Annabeth was free of her royal duties. She was no longer a Lady. If she ever escaped the isolation of the tower, she would begin a new life on a farm, raise a family with a peasant husband, and Thalia would no longer be her maid, but her friend.

Annabeth smiled just as she reached the bottom of the spiral staircase.

"Thalia!" she huffed, gasping for breath. She had become so unfit, sitting around all day with nothing to do but stare out a window. Annabeth spotted Thalia at the window. "What was that noise?"

Thalia turned. At her feet was a wooden box of some sort. "Oh, that? I dropped an egg out of the window."

Annabeth stood, arms crossed, and looked with distaste at Thalia. "Two people can't live together for six years with no escape from the other and expect to be able to lie and get away with it." Obvious disbelief was laced through her voice.

Thalia shrugged. "Thought I'd give it a shot. Nothing slips past you, does it?"

Annabeth shrugged. The two sat down at the table to eat.

Annabeth picked at her meal of salted beef jerky and raw carrots. She wasn't hungry in the slightest.

Perhaps it was the cool air that smelt of coming rain that was wafting through the open window. Annabeth's heart ached with longing for freedom. To feel the grass beneath her bare feet again, to swim in a flowing creek and be able to climb trees and pick macadamia nuts…

"Annabeth." Thalia said in her steeliest voice. "Eat. Now. Or I'll shove it down your throat."

Annabeth glared at her maid, but Thalia didn't back down. That's why Annabeth had chosen Thalia to come with her into the tower. Any of the other maids would have crumpled by now. But Thalia was strong- she was Annabeth's best friend.

"Not hungry." Annabeth sulked, crossing her arms.

"Gods, stop acting like a three year old! You're eighteen, Annabeth! Act your age!" Thalia shoved her chair back from the table and stomped over to Annabeth. She stabbed a piece of carrot with her fork and pried open Annabeth's mouth with her fingers.

Before the carrot could enter her oral cavity, Annabeth pushed Thalia away and glared at her. "Don't, Thalia. I said I'm not hungry."

"I don't care. If you don't eat, you will die. And if you die, I will be left alone up here forever, and I'll go insane and probably end up committing suicide. So eat, Annabeth. Or we'll both end up dying."

Annabeth stood up abruptly. "What's the point in living, anyway? This isn't a life," Annabeth gestured wildly around the room. "We're both just wasting away up here, not being of use to the world. Sometimes I think it would be easier to just end it all. End my misery. It's not like anybody would care," she laughed bitterly.

Thalia's icy expression softened a tad. "I would care. If you died, I wouldn't have anything to live for either, you know. Why do you think I'm still alive?"

"Because there's nothing up here that could be used for a suicide."

A wide grin spread across Thalia's face. For a second, Annabeth could remember what this girl used to look like, six years ago, when she had been fifteen. She looked happy. Alive.

"That's where you're wrong, Annabeth. See, you asked about that crash. Now, I wouldn't usually admit this, but I dropped something. And it wasn't an egg out the window."

"I can't believe you thought I would actually fall for that."

"Yeah, I always knew you weren't stupid. But anyway," Thalia bent down and picked up the box. "Guess what came with the weekly food supply?" Thalia asked, straightening up.

"Tell me."

"Somebody_" Just then Thalia became rigid. She tilted her head to the side and sniffed. "Is that- is that smoke I smell? Annabeth_" Thalia glared at Annabeth. "Annabeth, did you leave a candle burning in the attic?" Annabeth paled. Her long, flowy skirt must have caught the candle without her knowing.

"Yes," she said hesitantly. "I was reading."

Thalia glared at Annabeth frostily. "And did you, by any chance, extinguish that candle when you came down here, like I went out of my way to tell you to?"

Annabeth didn't say anything. As if they had some sort of telepathic agreement, both moved in sync with the other as they sprinted up the stairs to the attic, where the smoke was thickest.

Annabeth was choking, both from the thick, black smoke and the most physical exertion her body had endured in six years.

Thalia screamed something unintelligible and started hitting the wild flames with her sandal, which soon went up in flames itself. Annabeth collapsed to the ground, coughing so violently she thought she would spew up her brains.

Thalia ran downstairs, presumably to get a bucket of water, and Annabeth lay on the ground, retching and crying and screaming, her dress on fire, her hair on fire; her whole body on fire. And as she lay there, she accepted the fact that she would never get out of this tower. She accepted her death in this hot, smoke- filled, isolated, prison- like, claustrophobic room.

I love you, Thalia. She thought. I hope you get out of here alive. Please say something nice about me at my funeral. See you at the other end.

She closed her eyes and went to sleep.

Oh, oh, was that a CLIFFY? I'll update as soon as I can, and thank you all for being so wonderful. Don't forget to leave your opinion about my work! Constructive criticism welcomed, though I don't support flames.

Can anyone guess which PJO character has the same name as me? If you go on my profile, it might give you a hint. :)

You know, I think I might update every second to third day. Once a week is a bit harsh, isn't it? Even I couldn't wait that long.

So, in short, if I don't update AT LEAST once a week, you know I'm dead.

MashPotatoe Out :D