"I'm so sorry,"
Annabeth snapped her head up watching as a guard and Jason strode into her room. His eyes were filled with guilt.
"What are you-? It doesn't matter, get out, I am almost done!" She huffed and turned back to the work at her desk. Though it was rough, she had a written proposal explaining the basis of her knowledge, not enough that they could take it and leave her in the dust. If they wanted to find the Javelin they would need to consult her directly. She was not taking any chances, she would have her adventure. She would prove herself.
Just then the guard grabbed her wrist stopping her from writing, smudging some of the still wet ink across the page.
"Hey!" She fought to pull her hand away. "Let me go," She demanded, glaring at the man, who just tightened his hold and nodded to Jason, who just stood there watching her with regret etched into his features. "Jason!" She gestured to the man holding her wrist; the more she tugged the tighter his grip became. Jason looked even guiltier than before, which Annabeth didn't think was possible.
"Annabeth," He said with his hands out, approaching the way you would a frightened snarling dog. She stood up knocking her chair back, the man's grip not faltering.. "I know you don't understand, but I have to do this. I'm so sorry."
Her mouth hung open in shock. She expected defiance, she expected to put up with men who didn't believe she was anything more than a woman.
She didn't expect this.
She never thought that the person she trusted the most would take her trust, everything she confided in him and use it against her. He started gathering her papers, HER work as the guard held her just out of reach.
"No, wait! Don't do this!" She began to tug hard, the man grabbing her other wrist. She felt angry tears begin to form. "Jason! Don't you dare!"
He ignored her and kept grabbing her papers, her proposal, his notebook (her lifeline). She felt the angry tears betraying her as they ran tracks down her cheeks.
"I trusted you!" She yelled, watching as Jason refused to look at her like a coward and wiped away tears of his own. Her wrists burned from the cement grip of the guard; she just needed to get away. She slammed her high heel into the man's foot. It was not as effective as she would have liked, since his boots were thick and sturdy. But it was enough to get one arm free. She quickly turned before the man could grab her arm again and kneed him in the groin. He doubled over dropping her other wrist.
There was the briefest of moments once she was free where she and Jason made eye contact. She swore she saw him wince before the panic of her being free set in. She went to lunge at him but he made a dive towards the flaming hearth in her room. She tried to make another move towards him but he just held the pages and notebooks over the flames. She watched in horror as some of the pages had begun to crinkle and brown from the heat.
They were at a standoff. Annabeth was regrettably reminded of when they were small, before anyone truly cared that she was supposed to be a proper lady. When they had wooden swords and would spar, diving around the furniture in a sitting room as Lady Grace stared off into the distance. She was sure she had the same calculating look in her eyes now, though the hurt might be more present.
"You wouldnt, you need that just as much as I do right? So father will be proud of you? So you can finally wake up and not feel like a failure, so you can feel like you are meant to be here, to be his son?"
He winced, she had struck a nerve. Good, she thought.
"That's not why I'm doing this," His tone was harsh. He wondered if Annabeth wrongly believed that he was doing this for his father's approval or if she was just trying to hurt him the way he was her. Regardless it was pointless to try to explain to her, she wouldn't understand why he was protecting her. As he looked at the burning papers, the thought of his father's praise was a distant concern; he contemplated if burning everything could be a better solution. Burning her work wasn't stealing it and when everything blew over and she realized it wasn't the end of the world to be engaged and to live a long healthy life, he would have a better chance of her forgiveness.
"If this is what I have to do…"
He looked at the fire, his gaze grew sure. Annabeth watched as his grip started to loosen, panic ripped through her like a shot from a musket.
"Wait! Stop!"
But he had distracted her long enough. The guard had recovered, grabbing her more tightly ensuring she wouldn't be able to kick her way out this time. Jason kept his hand over the fire even though his own skin was starting to scream. He was so tempted to drop it and let this whole thing be over. He let his gaze trail back to Annabeth's eyes. With her determination, he realized that if he burned it she would just present without her script. He had to follow through. It was the only way to save her. He choked down his guilt and the regret he already felt and quickly pulled his hand away from the flames.
"One day you'll understand, I'm sorry." He was not sure she ever truly would, but he had to hope. With that he quickly turned his back to her and fled out the door, her screams chasing him as he fled.
She could barely recall what happened next, only that the man picked her up and carried her over to her wardrobe.
"I'm sorry Miss Chase, an order is an order." The man said before he opened the creaky door and shoved her inside. It was crammed full of stupid extravagant dresses. There was no room for her; hangers, buttons and shelves dug into her skin.
She heard a loud thunk on the doors as if something had been wedged in front of them. She had to shift and wiggle to get her arms free from her sides. The space was frustratingly small, and though she had never been claustrophobic the cramped dark started to make her panic worse than before. She finally got her arms in front of her and began pushing on the doors. She slammed her whole body weight onto the wood and it didn't budge. She tried and tried to no avail, sobbing in frustration.
She would never forgive him for this.
She was sure that at least an hour had passed, though it was impossible to tell in the dark. It was almost pitch black but she felt the multitude of bruises forming on her wrists from the tight hold the guard had on her, and her shoulder from trying to break the door down. She had never felt completely hopeless a day in her life. She was smart, and she had always been able to find a way out of any situation, but she felt the feeling crawling up her spine, threatening to take her knees out. She had nothing left, and even if she were to make it out she would have no way of proving the work was hers.
Except… the idea struck through her like lightning, Jason's handwriting. Her neat script was derastically different from his messy scribbles. His tutor, Mr Brunner, could verify and he'd been reading Jason's hand writing for almost a year. She had to get out, there was still time.
Her mind ripped into action, gears turning at record speed. Even though her eyes had adjusted it was still too dark to make out much. She brushed her fingertips along the outline of the door, searching for a weak spot of some kind. Something was blocking her from turning the handles, she guessed her chair and she was clearly not strong enough to break the doors down, she needed another way out.
Her hand brushed over the first hinge at the top of the left door. She didn't have any tools but if she was lucky it would be a cheap hinge. One where the pin sat connecting the two pieces together with nothing holding it in place besides gravity. If she was extra lucky it wouldn't have any rust glueing it together. She held her breath and slid her fingertips along the underside of the hinge. She almost let out a sob of relief.
It was open, exposing the bottom of the pin; all she would need to take the door off was something narrow enough to push it out. With her other hand she felt around till she got to the shoes sitting on the shelf that dug into her back. Feeling the heels of the shoes she opted for the one with the skinniest heel. Carefully positioning it she pushed it up to release the pin.
"Thank gods," She muttered to herself as the pin slid up without too much trouble, the shoe being the perfect size. The closet only had two hinges per door, but she was sure she could escape while only removing the hinges from one side.
The second one being closer to the floor of the wardrobe was far more difficult, as she had to re-maneuver to get a good angle to push the pin out. Crouching awkwardly around big skirts with her own whalebone corset painfully cutting into her bent waist, she managed to get the heel into the right spot. She had to use much more force to get this pin free but once she did she held her breath for the moment of truth. She pushed her already bruised shoulder into the corner. The door groaned as it was forced open. She fell out onto the floor; the fresh air never felt so crisp and clean.
She didn't have time to relish in her victory, she quickly picked herself up and tried half heartedly to make herself more presentable. She knew they would take her more seriously if she was a proper well put together lady. But looking at the clock in her room she was sure that Jason could already be done presenting her research. She poked at the lopsided updo in her hair once more before going to leave the room.
She twisted the handle and- it didn't budge.
"No, no, no, no, no," She had both hands on the nob yanking and pulling hoping that if she just tried one more time that it would magically open. "Locking me in my closet wasn't enough!" She yelled at the door, kicking it once for good measure. She backed up, running her hands through her hair destroying her attempt to fix it. Her chest felt constricted, like a python had wrapped itself around her torso, squeezing tighter by the second, making her force her breaths out in short gasps.
She felt all her anger, every snide comment, every time she had to sit in the corner of the room silent, every time she watched a man get an opportunity that should have been hers, her father being able to give her away, to make that decision for her. The tension snapped like a rubber band, exploding out of her. She stomped over to her desk and threw everything off of it. If it wasn't 300 pounds she would have flipped it. She also tore her clothes out of her closet for good measure. She was crying again, tears of anger that only served to make her more frustrated at the fact that she was crying.
She slumped onto her bed and gave herself a moment to calm down and centre herself. One thing her etiquette lessons were good for, teaching her to reel in her emotions. She took many deep breaths, picturing her anger and frustration leaving her in waves, clearing out her mind for her to think clearly.
Once she felt like she could think straight again she stood, her calculating eyes scouring her room for the best way to make her escape.
Jason had to focus on the feeling of his feet planted on the floor as he tried not to collapse; his adrenaline was fading since he finished the presentation. He heard people talking but it sounded like he was underwater, with the only clear sound being the draw of his shallow breath. His mind stuck replaying the look in Annabeth's eyes as he was leaving the room, the utter hurt, disgust, anger… hate. It made him feel even more sick and unsteady on his feet.
"Jason!" His father called loudly enough to draw him back into the present. His vision and hearing came back into focus, just in time to watch his tutor Professor Di Angelo slip out the door at the end of the room. He had kept Jason's attention for his presentation as he stood and listened glaring daggers at him for the whole time. It was odd, after all the work they put in? Jason wondered if he could be upset at his rush and sloppy speech but why was he leaving now? He realized his father was once again talking to him and he'd zoned out the question.
"I- uh, I am unable to take questions at this time, as I put this together at the last minute. I wish I had more time to prepare but I felt as though I should bring this to you as soon as I could." He tripped over his words hoping his excuse made sense.
"You were right to do so," His father said, his eyes held an emotion Jason had never seen directed at him; he realized with a shock to his whole system that it was pride. For the briefest moment Jason was filled with a newfound hunger, and for the briefest of moments he would do anything to keep that look in his father's eyes pointed at him. His father turned to address the whole of the room. "Any questions should be written and answered tomorrow at 1pm sharp. We will hold a proper conference. Jason needs time to get this into working order, and I need time to decide who to fire. I pay you to do this, and my son of all people figured it out before any of you!" The room shied at his father's outrage. It took everything in Jason not to scoff or deflate, he shouldn't have let this brief moment get the better of him. All he felt now was deep rooted shame. Jason was just glad to have the attention mostly off him, even if his father was somehow still berating him.
The rest happened in a blur, people congratulating him. His father and Annabeth's quickly leaving the room deep in discussion. A brown-haired maid came up to him and informed him that his father asked him to return to his room to study, instead of his bureau and that everything he needed will be brought to him. He followed without question letting his feet lead the way while his brain drifted off.
If he had been more aware he might have thought about how he had never seen this maid before. If he had been more aware he might have noticed that she wore dirty brown boots with a heel instead of the little black flats that all the maids wore. But he didn't think to question any of this until much later, for now he carried his physically and emotionally tired body to his room for some peace and quiet.
Annabeth's room looked like a hurricane had torn through it. From her wardrobe door off its hinges with her clothes spilling out, pooling around, to everything else she'd thrown on the floor during her outburst. Her chair was by her door from when she stood on it to see if she could also remove this door from its hinges, but she was without luck, she needed a screwdriver at the very least. She took a deep breath and fully tried to give an objective assessment as to if what she was about to try was even worth the risk.
She'd exhausted every other option, even picking the lock, but she couldn't quite figure it out, as she had never seen the inner workings of one and had never had the need to read a book on such subject matter.
Her eyes landed on the pile of sheets, blankets and curtains she'd gathered in the centre of her room. As she made her way over to them, her mind buzzed.
"It's simple science," she muttered to herself, as if hearing it out loud would take away the anxiety that was starting to bubble in her chest. She paced around the pile and continued to murmur her thoughts aloud.
"It's simple. Split the downward force over the length of the fabric. If each sheet can hold its own weight plus mine, distributed across several points, it should work."
She had always found understanding the science of something comforting. If she understood exactly how something worked it couldn't surprise her. She would be in control, when climbing out a three-story window science can only take her so far. It's almost impossible to account for everything that could go wrong but she tried anyhow. She kneeled beside the pile, hands moving swiftly to braid the sheets together. Each fold needed to be exact, there could be no weak spots. She thought back to her etiquette lessons, where she'd learned the art of weaving delicate threads into complex patterns. This was no different, just with heavier material and far higher stakes.
"Tension. The tension needs to be evenly distributed, or the whole thing will unravel."
Jason used to tease her when she thought out loud but to her it was the same as bouncing ideas off someone, which she could never do. She never had a tutor of her own and Jason often couldn't keep up with the speed at which she worked. Her stomach churned at the thought of the traitor she once considered her closest friend. She worked quickly but carefully, testing the fabric as she went. The sheets were thick and finely made, the weave sturdy enough to hold, assuming the knots didn't slip. She ran the numbers in her head, estimating the combined strength of the material.
"A three-story drop was about thirty to forty feet. With the braiding, I can reduce the load on any one part of the sheet to around half my body weight," She ran the numbers in her head an extra time or three just to be sure. "That should hold. It has to."
As confident as one could possibly be when preparing to belay down from a tall height, she gathered the braided rope and dragged it to the window. The combined weight of the entangled fabric weighing more than she anticipated dragged along the floor in protest, but she managed. She opened the window, glancing outside. There was nothing nearby to anchor it to, except the large bed frame. She wasn't thrilled with that idea since it wasn't bolted to the floor, though none of her furniture was and it was the only thing that might be heavy enough.
She knelt beside the bed and began tying the braided sheets around one of the thick posts at the headboard, looping it several times to ensure it wouldn't slip. Then, she tested it, pulling with all her weight.
The bed shifted slightly, but held firm. She took a deep breath before looping herself into the sheets, and climbing up onto the window ledge.
Jason closed his bedroom door behind him, letting out an exasperated sigh. The crushing reality dawned on him that this charade wasn't a one time thing, but something he would need to keep up for the rest of his life, and Annabeth would never help him again now. He looked at the stack of books already in his room (that he took from Annabeth) like a plague; this was now his curse to burden. He hated how he felt it to be a burden when Annabeth would have given everything for this opportunity.
He was drawn from his spiralling thoughts to the sound of a loud wrap at his door. The staff must be here to drop off the questions he would be unable to answer, and previous research from his father's staff of historians, scientists and navigators. He slowly pulled the door open.
It took him a moment to realize who was at his door. The man stood just a few inches shorter than him, but his demeanor made him all the more intimating. His almost black hair was messy and wispy pulled back into a sort of ponytail. He was dressed like a sailor, but not a sailor from his father's fleet. A pirate. Jason quickly tried to slam his door, but the pirate pushed him back into his room following him in. The maid that escorted him here following closely behind and closing the door, a cheeky grin on her face.
"That was quite the presentation, shame you gave them so much information. Now you'll just have to work twice as fast, but seeing as your work is mostly done, I don't think that should be a problem." The pirate gave him a crooked smirk, his head tilt causing some of his hair to fall in front of his sea green eyes.
Jason's eyebrows furrowed in concentration but also confusion. "Work twice as fast?"
The pirate just laughed, unsheathing his sword and pointing it at Jason in a sort of lazy way that made it seem like he didn't consider Jason a threat. "Yes, seeing as you had to go running your mouth, it will be your job to get us there first," His expression changed into more of a sneer. "and it will be your fault if we fail."
Jason felt his heart in his throat. Not only did he convince his father that he knew where the Javelin was but he also convinced these pirates. If he wasn't so preoccupied with the enemies in front of him he might have laughed at the karma he had been dealt.
"Look there's been a big misunderstanding," He held his hands up in front of him; he knew it was pointless to try and reason with the lawless but he needed to think up a distraction. He was itching to get to his nightstand where his flintlock pistol sat in the top drawer. If he could just get to it. "I lied, to impress my father."
The pirate just scoffed. "If you think lying will work you are dumber than I thought, my sources have seen your work."
"I'm not lying! Really I sto-" He stopped suddenly, what was he thinking, he couldn't possibly tell the truth now of all times. He highly doubted they would believe him but if the pirates did they would go after Annabeth. That was something that he couldn't let happen. He looked at the pirate and the girl behind him, he quickly tried to scan the room for anyone else, he took note of another who was climbing through his window.
"You really what?" The pirate taunted.
"I really, uh…" He just stared gaping at the pirate who chuckled at his inability to make up a quick lie. He cursed and chose this moment to lunge for his pistol. He was half way there when the pirate's tone changed.
"Enough of this! Nico!" The pirate called.
From the shadows behind him emerged a figure still shrouded in darkness. Jason had sworn there hadn't been anyone there but it was too late, he caught him off guard. The boy, Nico he assumed, quickly held a cloth to his nose and mouth. He took a deep breath before he could stop himself. He tried to fight off the boy holding him but his limbs began to feel like rubber. His vision darkened in the corners, he fought to stay awake but it was pointless. The boy let go and he swayed violently, falling towards the floor. As he fell he heard something about preparing the rigging, but he couldn't be sure, as he was out before he fully hit the floor.