A/N: Helloooooo. My goodness. It's been quite a moment since I've last updated this story. For that I apologize. To be honest, I'm at college and all the papers and essays caused me to lose my love for writing. I also thought I had outgrown this fandom. Then I started watching the PJO TV show and my passion for Percy Jackson was rekindled, and I was inspired to come back and write another chapter. So yay.
. Chancellor: a public advisor, or head of government
. Dowager Queen: the widow of a king
Sixteen Summers and Falls
"And in the west there are still matters of the cattle getting loose..."
The young princess sighed as Chancellor Apollo droned on and on about the upcoming harvest. On her sixteenth nameday her lady mother forced upon her the honor of becoming a member of the king's Privy Council, even while it felt like a gift at the time, now it felt like a curse.
The matters of which the council discussed wasn't actually the issue. Annabeth enjoyed hearing them politicking and seeing what happened behind the scenes. She'd puzzle over their presented problems and decide in her head what she would do differently or the same. But that was the problem. The only thing she could do was imagine and dream. She had no power.
Annabeth drummed her fingers on her knees as Chancellor Apollo finished and stepped aside to let her belligerent uncle, Ares, take the stand. They were assembled in a large stone chamber with high windows and thick walls. It served as the council chamber during peace and the war room during war. A massive oak table sat in the center of this chamber and carved into the wood was a great map of the most current kingdoms and realms. Small figures donning flags and house colors rested obediently on the surface. One such figure was Annabeth.
"There are reports of uprisings among the baronies," General Ares said, and everyone's ears perked with interest.
Athena leaned forward, circlet snaring the weak evening light and making it sparkle. "The barons are rebelling?"
"Nay." Ares looked grim. "Their serfs are. Claiming displeasure over their working terms and demanding better wages."
"Didn't know a man could do that," Chancellor Apollo quipped, "just go about demanding better working conditions."
Athena's mouth tightened. "Of which province?"
"The north and the east."
All eyes snapped to where the north and the east were depicted on the table.
Annabeth's brow furrowed. Percy's father was the Baron of the North. It didn't surprise her that his people were unhappy with his rule. She never met the man personally, but she heard enough from Percy to know he wasn't a pleasant master.
"The Barons have written – asking for our aid in crushing these rebellions," General Ares continued with a note of disdain in his voice.
Apollo snorted. "Can no man guard his own back anymore?"
Athena shot him a cross look before turning back to the table. "Send missionaries to the north and the south on Zeus's behalf," she said after a long while. "Let them speak with the serfs and report back to us. Then, given what is relayed, we will act."
"You would not crush them now, before they grow too large?" the General said in surprise and anger.
"Dear brother, if I crushed them now I'd risk causing an even grander skirmish." Ares huffed and Athena's expression morphed into that of placating, an expression she often used when reprimanding the twins. "I know we have differentiating views on settling disputes. I'd rather achieve peace without bloodshed and violence, if possible. But if peace is proven to be unachievable, then I will not hesitate to turn to the sword."
The doors to the council room flew open, ruffling papers and sending the small figurines tumbling over.
"Your Highness," the servant gasped. "It's the King."
The air smelled like blood and urine and feces. Chiron, one of the kingdom's most trusted advisors, sat vigil at the king's bedside as servants rushed in and out with damp cloths, bowls of water, fresh leeches, clean clothes, knives for blood letting, elixirs for coughing, herbs for the stench, salves for the pain, and tonics for everything else. Amidst the pandemonium was the princess Athena with her daughter quick on her heels.
Athena strode into the king's chambers and immediately went to Chiron's side, leaving the young princess to slip off and take up a position by the window. She stared down at her grandfather and tried to sort through her feelings.
Annabeth didn't know her grandfather very well. He was always distant and removed—a trait passed on to Athena, for certain. But she did remember him as a giant among men. He had an imposing presence that could command a room without a single word, so it was jarring to see him, once the mightiest of rulers, reduced to a mere lump of flesh on a soiled bed.
Two servants came forth with damp cloths and began patting the king's sweat soaked brow. Their expressions were cold and insouciant, their actions rote and without emotion. They could've been watering the flowers or pouring their morning tea. Annabeth wondered if this was her terrible fate. Would she someday lie in this bed, surrounded by strangers who didn't give a wit if she lived or died?
Even Athena, who stood dutifully at the king's side, was more concerned for the state of the kingdom than the state of the man.
Athena waited for the servants to finish with their task before dismissing the entire chamber.
"I thought he was recovering," she said as the last servant retreated and the door slammed shut.
Zeus had taken ill the previous summer and had been plagued with coughs and chills and fevers all autumn and winter long. Some days were better than others but he never seemed to fully recover, forcing Athena to cover his duties and prepare for the worst. But then winter died and summer came and Zeus started to fare better. It seemed to be the warm air and everyone had released the breaths they had been holding.
"He was, my child," Chiron said gently. Only Chiron called Athena child and it was strange hearing it fall from his lips. Try as she might, Annabeth couldn't imagine her mother as a girl. Athena seemed as if one day she simply sprung forth and greeted this world in full armor. "But it seems the gods have chosen another course."
A course that ends with my mother on the throne, Annabeth thought grimly.
Athena stared at the king as if he was an equation she couldn't solve. "How much longer do you presume?" she finally asked.
Chiron's eyes flicked to the young princess. "I would say my farewells now."
Athena didn't look particularly distraught by this, nor did she seem all too surprised. But that wasn't in her nature, nor was it the nature of her relationship with Zeus. When in health, when Zeus wasn't preoccupied with ruling a kingdom, he was busy defending it, and when he wasn't busy defending his kingdom, he was off spreading his seed in every other kingdom on earth. Athena hardly knew her father, just as Annabeth hardly knew her.
Athena exhaled harshly. "Does the queen know?"
"Yes. I told her the same as I have told you."
"And how did she take it?"
Chiron looked awkward. "Her exact words were, and pardon the crassness, 'Give me a pillow, I'll gladly end the old sod myself.'"
Such words would be treason if the king wasn't already on his deathbed and Annabeth couldn't help but snort. Queen Hera, soon to be Dowager, was a bitter soul who wedded Zeus after his first wife (Athena's mother) Queen Metis died during childbirth.
Athena's lips puckered. "A charmer as always, that hag."
A snake charmer, Annabeth thought.
Athena stood, the moment for grieving seemingly finished. "Gather the servants and have them swear a vow of silence. News of the king's health does not leave this room."
Zeus was as good as dead, but if there was any sense of weakness in their ruler the people would worry, the kingdom would be vulnerable, and enemies might attack. And Athena couldn't have that.
"My lady." Chiron bowed as Athena exited the room.
The young princess was ambushed by her lady mother mere seconds after leaving her grandfather's chamber. "I see you're still not speaking to me."
Annabeth turned away, skirts rustling with irritation. Her mother lost that privilege when she broke her trust.
"Darling—"
"Don't," Annabeth spat. "Don't treat me like some situation that needs to be handled. I am a person, not your pawn!"
Athena's eyes flashed dangerously and for a moment Annabeth wondered if she finally went too far. Would it be the rack or the stocks or the whip?
"You think you'll ride off into the sunset with the peasant boy?" Athena said dangerously, her voice like ice on Annabeth's skin. "You think he'll sweep you off your feet and take you away to some faraway paradise?"
"This isn't about him!" Annabeth could hear the anguish and hurt echoing her own voice and she was ashamed to feel a prickling of tears in her eyes. She wasn't some lovesick fool, and Percy had nothing to do about her tactical silence. This was about trust. The loss of trust between a daughter and her mother.
Athena sighed. "I know you're angry with me, and I can accept that. But don't you think the time for dramatics has passed?"
"This has nothing to do with Percy, or the kiss, or the engagement," Annabeth said furiously. "This has everything to do with you. Us. This is about you and Father betraying my trust. Mother, Father lied to my face. He said to me that I would be included in all the arrangements regarding my marriage. And I believed him! I believed you both!"
Athena scoffed. "And you—"
"You taught me that a fine ruler was as good as their word. And now..." Annabeth trailed off as servants began filling the corridor. Now I can't even look at you without wondering what sort of lies you're spinning.
Annabeth did not wait to be dismissed. She turned her back on her lady mother and fled. Where would they be now if Athena had only trusted her with the truth?
She found Malcolm in his chambers, too flushed from her interaction with their mother to notice he was packing.
"She doesn't understand me!" she cried as she burst through the door. "She thinks I'm angered by the arranged marriage."
Malcolm paused. "You aren't upset about wedding Scale Tail?"
"I am!"
"Oh good." Malcolm looked relieved. "Thought you were going mad."
"That isn't the point!" She stomped her foot petulantly. "I'm angered about the breach in trust. And she doesn't get that. She thinks I'm upset about one thing but I'm really upset about another."
Malcolm snorted as he gathered a set of folded tunics and stuffed them unceremoniously into bags. "Dearest sister, don't you know our mother by now? That's what she does. She decides what's truly bothering you and casts all else aside."
Annabeth shook her head furiously and sighed. Taking a moment to breathe, she finally noticed the pack. "Pray tell. What are you doing?"
"Packing. Apparently there's an uprising in the northern and eastern baronies. I've been ordered to ride out and serve as the crown's missionary."
The north? Of course, the serf uprisings. Percy. Her heart did a little flip in her chest. "I'm going as well."
Malcolm looked at her, concern flickering in his gray eyes. "Do you think that's wise?"
Annabeth scoffed. "Mother may know about our kiss, but she doesn't know where Percy resides. Besides, she's always nagging me about getting involved in stately affairs."
The ride to the baronies was brisk, harsh and unforgiving, despite the pleasantness of the summer season. The royal siblings were accustomed to the comforts of the roads used by the noble families. Those roadways had luxuries such as fine inns dotting the way so that nobles could stop and refresh themselves as well as their horses. The roads the royal siblings took to the baronies were the commonly traveled routes used by messengers, peasants, servants and the like. These roads were for pure business, not pleasure, and they could feel the difference with every bump in the road.
Annabeth suggested that they first go to the north. Should their lady mother ever find herself troubled by their absence and feel the urge to send men after them, she hoped that their business in the north would be long finished.
"So it's the wisest course of action for us to visit the north first," Annabeth said. "You see? Preventative measures."
"Preventative measures," Malcolm repeated, who didn't look at all convinced.
The closer they got to the north the wetter the land became underfoot and the hotter the air felt on their cheeks. It was said that the land responded to the quality of its care, but most importantly, the quality of the caregiver tasked with its care. The young princess didn't doubt this theory as they slowly entered the swampish land, recalling the hostile Baron from that summer ball all those years ago. Soon they found themselves on a muddy dirt road that stretched on for miles before feeding into a wood overgrown with thorns and weeds.
"What will you do when you see him?" Malcolm asked as they entered the wood. Almost immediately they were attacked by a cloud of insects.
"I don't know," the young princess said. Truthfully, she hadn't thought much about the Baron's son. Well, no, that was a falsehood if there ever was one. She thought of him plenty, but not in the way that made maidens swoon and fellows swear their love. Her thoughts of him consisted mostly of anger, hurt and doubt, for she couldn't think of him without thinking of her parents, and herself, and the future that was galloping towards her at breakneck speed.
"He might not even be here today," she added. "He could be anywhere."
"Oh, I would say that he's here."
"We don't know that."
"We do."
"Malco-"
"Is that not his cloak?"
Annabeth jerked her horse to stop. Following Malcolm's gaze, her eyes landed on a piece of fabric draped carelessly over a tree. It was his cloak. And a few feet away was a boot, presumably also his.
"Well," Malcolm said as he picked up the cloak with the tip of his sword. "We best find Jackson. He'll be wanting his wardrobe back."
As they followed the trail of clothing, Annabeth grew increasingly worried. What could have possibly happened that would cause Percy to strip off his garments? Was he attacked? Ambushed? Kidnapped? Even though there was no love between father and son, Percy was still a Baron's son, and the son of a Baron was worth something around here. Petty crooks could score a pretty coin for him.
"We'll find him," Malcolm reassured her as the clothing led them deeper into the wood.
Annabeth wasn't so certain. She was just about to suggest they pause to regroup when a sound caught her attention. It sounded like someone… laughing. Annabeth gestured for Malcolm to keep quiet and urged her horse onwards, following the sound.
As they drew nearer the laughter grew louder, until they came upon a stone wall covered in ivy and were forced to stop their pursuit. "I don't understand," Malcolm murmured, glancing back at the way they came.
"Wait." Annabeth slipped off her horse and approached the stone wall. Tentatively, she lifted her palm to the ivy… and it passed right through.
Malcolm gasped.
The young princess scoffed to herself. "This is but an illusion." It was a clever trick, making the wall seem like stone, but what really intrigued her was what resided beyond. Annabeth gathered her horse's reins and beckoned for Malcolm to dismount. "Come, brother. Let us see what this illusion hides."
The sweet aroma of fresh flowers filled Annabeth's senses as she passed through the ivy curtain and she couldn't believe what she saw. A beautiful lake with the clearest of waters lay amidst a field dotted with flowers of every shade. The sun shone sweetly through the clouds, dancing on the water and warming the mossy carpet underfoot. It was as if a slice of heaven fell down and planted itself here on earth.
And there at the edge of the lake was the familiar figure of a young man. He turned, and his face lit up like the sun when their eyes locked.
Perseus Jackson stood at once and she had to remind herself how to breathe as she took in his devilishly disheveled hair, wet and wild, and his troublemaker smile, crooked and sarcastic, and his charming green eyes, alluring and hypnotic, and his perfectly sculpted jaw, sharp and fine.
"Hi," he said as he approached, and the young princess blinked at their height difference. They used to stand eye to eye, and now she had to lift her chin to meet his eye. "You look well."
Annabeth blushed prettily. Her hair had grown lusher and more curly, if possible. Her build was slim, both graceful and confident. Her eyes were a striking and intense shade of gray, mirroring the fierceness inherited from her mother.
"What brings you to this corner of the world?"
The king's imminent death. The princess Athena's inevitable rise to the throne. My impending marriage.
"The uprisings of the serfs," said Malcolm, choosing this moment to step forth, arms full of garments.
"Your Highness," Percy exclaimed, and his eyes flicked back and forth between the two in surprise.
"Just Malcolm," Malcolm corrected as the two shook hands - well, as best as they could with Malcolm's arms full of clothing.
"Yes, about those," Annabeth said. "We thought you might be in need of these."
Percy touched his cape. "This is mine, but I wasn't the one to wear it last."
Annabeth arched her brow. "No?" She took pleasure in how often his gaze shifted her way.
Percy cleared his throat and blushed. "Aye, I lent my clothes to-"
"ANNABETH!!!!" A small shape came barreling down the hill, arms opened wide, mouth stretched in a toothy grin, and Annabeth caught him as he collided with her skirts. The horses spooked and broke away, galloping further into the glen.
"Woah there!" she laughed as she steadied the boy. She knelt down on the soft moss and smiled. "Miss me?"
Tyson touched her hair with an awestruck expression and nodded fervently. "Much."
Tyson was a sight for sore eyes. He was taller, older, yet somehow kept his baby face. His single eye glistened with warmth and adoration, while his other eye remained concealed with a patch. His hair was tangled and wet, and he was almost entirely naked, save for a pair of cotton pants.
"I let you borrow my clothes, and this is how you repay my generosity?" Percy said with false indignation. Tyson shrieked as Percy mussed up his hair.
"So you're the clothing thief," Malcolm said dryly.
"Too hot," Tyson explained happily. "Swim time yay!"
"It is very hot," Annabeth agreed, glancing enviously at the lake.
"Indeed," Percy said, glancing at Annabeth.
"Oh my," Malcolm said faintly.
"Miss you a lot," Tyson said. "Rachel's okay, but I like you a lot more."
"Rachel?" Annabeth said, feeling her happiness quickly evaporate. Percy's smile dropped when he saw her expression and understanding flash across his face.
Malcolm coughed and passed the bundle of clothes to Percy. "I, uh, should go check on the horses." He took off, leaving the three of them alone.
"Annabeth," Percy began.
Annabeth, heart pounding, pointedly looked at Tyson. "Who's Rachel?"
Tyson shrugged, oblivious. "Fortune teller. Red hair like hot fire. She and Percy were kissing and then she was crying really wet."
"Tyson," Percy said quietly, eyes pinned on Annabeth, who was staring intensely at a shrub. "Why don't you help Malcolm with the horses?"
"Okay," Tyson said happily. He gave Annabeth a big hug, who returned it numbly, and ran off.
"She kissed me," the young man said at once. "I didn't want it. I pushed her off and told her so. She was… confused. She mistook my tolerance for interest."
Annabeth remained silent. She wasn't sure what to say. She was fluent in several languages but was speechless in the language of them.
She wanted to say Why didn't you tell me? She wanted to say Do you love her now? She wanted to say Was she a good kisser? Was she better than me? An ugly, twisted voice that sounded suspiciously like her mother whispered in her head, What if he's like all the rest? All they ever want is either your body or your power and if they can't have yours, they'll take the next girl's.
"I wrote to you at once," he added miserably. "The letter is due to arrive at the palace tomorrow morn."
Silence chewed her up.
"Please, say something," he said.
"I know you're upset," he said.
"I don't like her," he said.
"I didn't say that I cared if you did," she finally managed. Of all the people, she never would've thought Percy would be one to betray her trust. She silently cursed the air headed girl who shared her dreams of love and passion with a boy in a snow filled garden all those years ago. Was she simply unlovable and worthy of trust? She was no good at this and she hated it. Oh, why did she ever open herself up to being burned?
"I know," he said quietly. He looked slightly relieved that she had finally spoken. "But I want you to care."
"Why?" she said, suddenly furious. How dare he stand there and ask for her heart.
"Because I care," he said simply. "I would be saddened if you were kissing other boys, and I selfishly want you to feel the same. Wise Girl, I love you. I know I have no ring nor land nor pretty token of my love. All I have to offer is my word."
Was it enough? His word? Kingdoms had been built and crushed by words alone. Women have been killed and ruined by such vows.
They had rushed headlong into this undefined territory that existed between them. Although she harbored no regrets about her choices, for she wasn't one to entertain such sentiment, she had a subtle inkling that this was a message from the gods. Choose, they seemed to be saying. Heart or head? Is he the one?
Love can be a beautiful gift, her lady mother once said. It can also be a terrible curse. Be brave, sweet girl, for it so often becomes both.
Could she place her trust in him when so many had already betrayed her? In her bones, she believed that his claims about the kiss echoed the truth. However, a simple kiss was merely a minor obstacle in the grand tapestry of their relationship, should they choose to pursue one. Did she want this? Did she wish to brave a future with him? She knew she didn't wish to share her life with Triton, but was she doing the right thing by turning to Percy?
"I believe you," Annabeth said at last, and the relief in his eyes was so great that it nearly swept all her fears away. "But," she held up her hand. "I need to think. I do not deny I have feelings for you, but I need some time to collect my thoughts.
"Of course," he said at once. "However long you need. I'll wait."
Deeming it safe enough to approach, Tyson and Malcolm returned, horses in toe.
"Annabeth?" Percy said as they began to walk away.
The young princess paused and looked back.
"Thank you for trusting me," he said.
She nodded, expression solemn. "Provide me with no reason to doubt you," she told him, and together they made their way out of the woods.
The following week kept the royal children preoccupied with royal duties. They went their ways with Malcolm riding to the East and Annabeth remaining in the North. She resided at the Baron's hall, much to his displeasure, and worked on sorting out the matter of the uprisings. She convened a series of meetings where the serfs were invited to speak their concerns, one by one. It was a long and laborious task, but the expressions of gratitude that left on their faces made it worthwhile. The Baron of the North was not pleased with this strategy, nor was he pleased when he was asked to raise the pay, per Annabeth's request. But he could not deny that the presence of the royal princess was an effective one, and soon heeded to her commands. Soon after, the grumblings began to quell.
As for the princess Athena, she did in fact send messengers inquiring about her daughter's whereabouts. However, if she expected to receive sour news, she was proven wrong, for the reports that returned spoke of nothing but the highest praises of the young lady.
When Annabeth wasn't spending her days hearing out the serfs or bargaining with the Baron, the young princess was riding in the woods, training in the yard, and scourging the Baron's libraries with Lady Sally. It was a complete accident on Annabeth's part when she stumbled upon Sally. Tyson had told her about their library and she had sought it out by herself, curious about its contents. She was in the midst of browsing the architecture section when she overheard a woman softly crying in the stacks.
"Hello?" the young princess called, uncertain if she was overstepping. Some people preferred to be alone in times of hardship, while others preferred to be comforted.
A soft rustling of skirts, then a woman with perhaps the kindest face she'd ever seen appeared. Sally Jackson. She looked exactly the same as the day they first met, except for the redness rimming her eyes.
"Annabeth, dear," she said, and Annabeth liked that she didn't address her formally.
"Are you alright?"
The woman mustered a smile that reminded the young princess of her mother's war face. Athena could be laughing one moment and the next her features would be a mask of stone and steel. It was a mask all mothers taught their daughters to wear.
"Ah, how embarrassing. You heard that."
"I'm afraid so."
Through the unbuttoning of her dress, Annabeth could see fingerprint shaped bruises on throat. The sight caused her stomach to churn. Sally followed her gaze and silently tied a handkerchief around her neck.
"It's nothing," she said. Her voice, though soft, carried a determined undertone. Despite her husband's authority over the barony, Annabeth knew there was just as much fierceness to be found in Sally as well.
Sally's eyes silently imported her, urging them to keep the bruises from the boys, Percy most of all.
A look was exchanged between the two women. One of understanding, and one of relief.
Sally cleared her throat and gestured for Annabeth to sit with her. "How are you?" Annabeth found it a bit ironic that Sally was inquiring about her wellbeing, but the young princess opened her mouth and let all her concerns spill out.
"I can assure you," Sally said at the end of Annabeth's woes, "That my son has a good and noble heart. I have seen how he waits for you, how he lights up at your letters and blushes at your name."
Annabeth could feel her own cheeks heating, and she couldn't deny that the thought warmed her heart.
"As his mother," Sally continued, "I must ask you this: do you love my son?"
"Yes," Annabeth said simply, and Sally didn't look surprised in the slightest. "But is love enough?"
"That's for your consideration," the Baroness remarked. "Now. Enough of our troubles. My boys have shared with me your passions for books, and I would be honored if you could share your literary interests with me. Our humble library is no match for the royal library, but we do take pride in what we keep on our shelves."
The next morning a letter appeared on Annabeth's bed along with the morning tea.
I acknowledge your request for space, the note began, but I wanted you to be the first I told. Please, if you're willing, meet me by the lake tonight. Let's escape this town for a little while.
That evening, Annabeth slipped from her bed, hair cascading loosely around her, clad only in her nightgown. and silently retraced her steps to the wood.
"This better be worth my while," she muttered as she passed through the curtain of ivy.
Percy was there, ready and waiting. "You came."
"Ay," she said, wondering if it was proper.
Her gaze fixed on him, waiting for an explanation. He responded with a wide smile and said, "I'm to be legitimized."
"Truly?" she gasped, all reservations forgotten. Her soul began to sing and she asked, "Who's claimed you?"
The name that slipped from his lips brought her whole world to a shuddering stop. Poseidon.
How could she have possibly forgotten? Hadn't Malcolm warned her all those years ago? Rumor has it the Baroness had a smashing affair with King Poseidon. It was supposedly his wife who found them together one night, and it was his wife who arranged for the Baron to wed the Baroness after her little discovery.
And if Poseidon was claiming Percy, that meant Triton and Percy were half brothers, and if they were half brothers and Triton wed Annabeth…
"You're not pleased," Percy noted, observing her carefully. Oh, Percy… Her heart wept, for she realized that he didn't know.
"Percy," she whispered hoarsely, and, with a heavy heart, she began to speak.
Comment or perish.