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Annabeth Chase had been distinctly aware of all of the rules pertaining to high society before she could even speak. 

Of these, there were many. Annabeth was four when she was taught the proper ways to address aristocracy, from the king down to a count. She was six when she learned the etiquette of formal seven-course dining. She was eight when she started diction lessons. She was ten when ballroom dancing became a skill relevant to her station. 

The rules weren’t hard. They were a science, and Annabeth was incredible at science. She narrowed down the extent of her studies into two life rules. The first was be an appropriate epitome of an aristocrat lady. The second was stay in your lane.

Annabeth, as it turned out, was not good at staying in her own lane. Her jaw gaped open as her father clicked the television on. It was big enough to glimpse through the sweeping hallway from where she was perched at the kitchen island, already clad in her Royal Charm School uniform, ready for the new school year even before all the welcoming festivities had started. 

There was a reporter on screen listing off all of the foreign dignitaries attending a finishing year at the school—which made sense, really, but what did not make sense was the addition that came after she uttered the name of one particular prince. 

“New Rome’s biggest allies, Themiscyra and Atlantis, are both having children of their royal families attend this year,” the reporter had chirped. “And I have it from reliable sources in Atlantis that Prince Perseus is looking for his betrothed too! Unfortunately, ladies, that’ll only be from Atlantis, but—”

Annabeth whipped her head over to stare at her father. “Percy didn’t tell me that!” she said. 

Duke Frederick Chase lifted an eyebrow. “It’s not exactly his call. What’s with the outrage?” 

Barely, Annabeth managed to suppress her blush. “Nothing, I just—”

Before Annabeth could finish her sentence, her mother swept into the room. Councilwoman Athena Chase was, if possible, even more regal than her husband—Annabeth was of an unnatural birth, half-aristocrat, half-commoner. Her mother had defied the natural laws of New Rome’s mixed monarchy and risen to an elected position when the country mainly operated through their aristocracy. She held herself as if she was more deserving to be in a room than anyone else, because she very well might have been. 

“Morning,” Annabeth said, spluttering but somehow managing to quiet the indignance of her tone. Athena picked up a mug of coffee Frederick had already brewed for her. She’d been up for a few hours already—council duties—indicative from the wear of her blouse and the hair that slipped out of a bun that had, no doubt, been impeccable in the morning.  “I thought you were at the council building until noon?” 

“Meeting ended early.” Athena leaned over the counter to nab a muffin from the breakfast spread on the island. “What’s this about the prince? Jason, was it, or—?”

”Not Jason. Foreigner. Percy?” Annabeth cleared her throat, but she’d been an adept liar since the age of five, and neither Athena nor Frederick was the wiser. “He didn’t tell me he was looking for a wife, that’s all.” She stared down into her cup, the dregs of her coffee staining the sides of her mug. She didn't want to finish it anymore. 

“Well, he is going to be king soon,” Athena pointed out, blowing on her coffee. “You’re going to have to spend less time with your friends, you know; you won’t be able to see them when they’re ruling countries. Jason included.” 

That wasn’t the point, but Annabeth couldn’t exactly say that. She glanced back at her breakfast, which she’d finished the majority of already, and found that her appetite—as little as the remaining bit of it was—had been lost. “I’m headed off,” she said abruptly, getting up from her stool. She grabbed for her bag—her luggage had already been brought to the school. “Student council are helping to set up the welcome event.”

Frederick gestured Annabeth over, and she gave him a hug and her mother a kiss on the cheek before hurrying out of the door. Her phone unsheathed from her vest pocket, and she moved to call Percy. She was sent to voicemail. 

Annabeth scowled down at her screen. “Pick up,” she muttered, as if that was going to do anything. She stomped over to the car waiting for her in the driveway, making sure to roll up the partition from the driver as she attempted to call him again. No response. 

After the fifth time, Annabeth decided it was a lost cause. She tucked her phone away, huffing as she rearranged the horrendous bright pink plaid of her skirt. The drive to the school wasn’t far from her family’s mansion—thirty minutes, give or take, considering she resided in the hills rather than the city—but Annabeth spent the entire time fretting. It wasn’t the most productive use of her time, so five minutes in she whipped her phone out again, scrolling through the morning’s tabloids in case one of them miraculously wound up with an actually reliable source. 

Once the car pulled up to the driveway of Royal Charm School, Annabeth burst out, her blond curls whipping around her face. She called a quick thank you to her driver before hurrying up the steps. 

The yard had been done over for the princess procession, wherein all the foreign royalty attending the school would lead their courts in a show of diplomacy. It was reserved for the finishing school year—Annabeth was a senior and a native, so she’d never participated in the parade and never would. The freshmen students—all New Rome natives—weren’t given any sort of fanfare either. Ribbons strung over the stonework driveway in the school’s colors, navy and bright pink. Tents had been set up, too, and although they were currently empty, Annabeth and the rest of the committee had blueprints of what was supposed to go where. 

At the top of the stairs, by the school’s open doors, stood the rest of the organizing committee. The school’s headmaster, Headmaster Chiron, stood beside the queen regent Hera, and Crown Prince Jason. Aside from them, other noble-born students part of the student council were also there to help setup: Piper McLean, daughter of a grand duke; Drew Tanaka; Malcolm Pace; and a few others. Annabeth joined Piper and grabbed her arm. “Have you heard from Percy?” she hissed. 

Piper gave her a surprised look. “Why would I have heard from Percy?”

”Nothing, I—“ Annabeth shook her head. “Ugh. What stand are we assigned to?”

“I told Chiron we’d cover the admissions table. I didn’t want to be assigned to food and beverages,” Piper replied. “Everything’s already over there. Wanna start?”

Annabeth cast a harried glance in Jason’s direction. He looked deep in conversation; it wouldn’t be polite to interrupt while he was talking to the regent. Beside the doors, a podium had been set up, along with a gigantic ball filled with paper slips—the scholarship lottery, so commoners could have a chance to attend the school. 

“Yeah,” she said, too late. “I wanted to talk to Jason—”

“Don’t make it awkward,” Piper hissed. Annabeth grimaced. “I haven’t seen him since the summer ball, and even that was horrible.” 

“Yeah, you’ve been avoiding the palace and the Government Council building for forever,” Annabeth muttered. “It’s just a marriage proposal, Pipes. And speaking of marriage proposals—” she yanked Piper towards the array of tents, ducking under the pink-curtained one that was labeled ADMISSIONS & INFO. “Percy is apparently supposed to—”

Piper whipped around, the braids splayed within her hair lashing against her shoulders. She, too, was wearing her uniform, although even after three years in it she looked awkward, as if her body fought the clothing. There was a certain distaste Piper held towards all the rules and guidelines of the aristocracy, but she stiffly accepted it all the same. “Percy’s supposed to what?”

“I don’t know. RRBN said something about him looking for a bride.” And as much as Annabeth didn’t trust the tabloids, RRBN—or the Royal Rome Broadcasting Network—was extremely well-reputed. Annabeth had to combat its reporters to not air the story when the Piper and Jason debacle had occurred, and she still didn’t know who their source had been. “And he hasn’t been picking up my calls.”

“Well, he’s preparing for the procession.” Piper ducked under one of the fold-out tables by the tent, pulling out a few plastic boxes full of what they needed to set up. She hefted one onto the table. “I’m sure he’ll get into contact with you soon enough.”

“Piper,” Annabeth said. Piper turned to glance at her. “He’s supposed to be picking a bride.” 

Piper’s expression softened. She didn’t look surprised, though; there was no reason to be. “Something could work out. And it’s just a rumor anyway.”

“Why wouldn’t he tell me?”

“He probably didn’t know himself,” Piper pointed out. “Annabeth, there’s nothing you can do about it right now. And you knew it was coming.” 

Piper turned away as she spoke her last sentence, and Annabeth knew why. She didn’t want her to see her expression—the pitying, judgmental expression, the I-told-you-so one. Because Annabeth had known this was coming. She had signed up for this. She was the one who started dating a crown prince from a different country—someone she would never be able to marry. 

Dear Lady Chase, 

I hope this letter finds you in good health. I also hope you don’t mind my getting your address from Prince Jason. Thirdly, I hope you don’t mind the dropping of proper etiquette after this sentence. 

If you didn’t noitice from the personal statoinery and the adresse, it’s Percy. My tutor thought it would be “worldly” to get a penpal from someone from a different country. I think they were trying to get me to exchange letters with Jason, but if you ask me, neither of us have enough patience to keep that up. I think you’ll be a good accountability partner. My tutor also reads over these letters because I have dyslexia and I don’t spell very well. 

I hope all is well in New Rome. (Okay, maybe I was lying about the proper etiqetuet.) Meeting yu was probably the highlight of my time there. I think it’s cool that we’re both half-commoner. Though I guess my dad made my mom queen and everything so not really, but my mom liked you. She was the one who had the idea to penpal you anyway. I hope yiou’re okay with being penpals. 

Today was mostly boring, I just had school (I’m palcae-schooled, I don’t go to a fancy acdaemy like you… when does Royal Charm School admit?) and went to the beach. Our palace is seaside. 

I cant think of anything elise to say without sounding stupid. 

 Best regards,

Perseus Jackson

Crown Prince of Atlantis 

Dear Prince Percy, 

I hope calling you Percy is alright, since you said that in person but signed your letter as Perseus. That might’ve just been the stationery, though, it looked like it was stamped on. Regards to you and I hope your day goes well. 

I don’t mind at all either. I’d be honored to be your penpal, and I don’t mind the spelling mistakes either; I’ve got dyslexia as well. I’m glad to hear that about Queen Sally, and yeah it’s kind of a coincidence that both of our moms were commoners. My day went well, thank you for asking; I also went to school, though I go to a private middle school right now, not Royal Charm School. That’s only for high school, so I’ll be enrolling at age fourteen. 

I’m at a loss of what to talk about too. Why don’t you tell me a little bit about yourself? Favorite color, any pets, what you like to do study, what you do for fun? I’d ask what you want to do career-wise, but I suppose that’s already set up for you. 

Best regards,

Annabeth Chase

Three hours had passed and Annabeth still had no word from Percy. She and Piper had successfully set up the admissions and information tents, and had helped out with some of the other ones as well. They’d retouched their makeup and watched the princess procession begin. 

Percy was last, right after Themiscyra, so Annabeth had to pass out brochures and answer questions through grit teeth with her leg jittering. She usually liked to watch all of the floats pass by, as silly as it was, but today her head turned hurriedly around as if to catch a glimpse of Percy. The welcome event was open to both attendees but also to the public, and it felt like the influx of commoners were even bigger this year: teens in bright colors murmured about how they hoped to win the school scholarship, flooding the tents with the intention of talking to a prince or princess. 

“There,” Piper murmured, passing by Annabeth to fish a complimentary Royal Charm School paper tiara out of the box of them they had. She handed it to the little girl who’d requested it. “Percy’s float.” 

Annabeth’s head whipped up, eyes narrowing in on the float near the end of the procession. Percy Jackson was seated upon it, surrounded by other Atlantis dignitaries his age also coming overseas to attend the school in a finishing year. Annabeth’s heart leapt into her throat. She and Percy traditionally had rules to ensure no one got wind of their relationship, but Annabeth ignored anything that pertained anywhere near one of those as she swept past Piper and hurried over to the end of the procession, where students were climbing off of their floats. 

Jason was waiting there beside Hera and the headmaster, but Annabeth didn’t join them; she didn’t want to attract anyone’s attention, least of all the Regent or the numerous cameras pointed towards them. She exchanged hellos with some foreign royalty she’d met before—Luke from Chronou; Katie of Gardenia; Will of Helios—but for the most part just stood anxiously. Irritation mixed with the anxiety, annoyance at the effect a stupid sentence had had on her. 

Finally, the Atlantis float reached the front of the school. Headmaster Chiron stepped forward to greet Percy, shaking his hand before Jason brought him in for a side hug. He was wearing a suit of Atlantis sea foam, crown perched within the dark locks of hair. Tanned skin disappeared behind the high collar of his jacket, decorated with bronze pins. The twinkling gems embedded in his crown matched the color of his eyes. 

The paparazzi smile slipped off his face as his eyes met Annabeth’s. Another replaced—wide, canine, bright-eyed—before he registered the tempestuous expression of her features. He ducked past Jason, falling into the gaggle of Atlantis high lords and ladies as his pace quickened. One of his hands extended, fingers brushing against Annabeth’s.

“Tent,” Annabeth said, spinning on her heel and making the short trek back to the admissions tent. Percy hastily followed, mostly indicative of the screams that followed his route. Annabeth turned again, ushering him into the boundary of the tent and gesturing for him to bend over so he wouldn’t be spotted. “Sit.”

Meekly, Percy said, “Am I in trouble?”

Piper snorted from her seat behind the table. “Hi, Percy.”

“Hey, Piper. Annabeth, have I told you how beautiful—”

Annabeth ducked down to join him before he could finish his sentence. “You’re looking for a bride?” she hissed, voice far more shrill than she appreciated. The edge of her words seemed to pierce the sky. 

Percy’s expression dimmed. One of his eyes twitched, brow spasming as he winced. “Okay, look—”

“We talk yesterday, everything’s fine, and then I wake up to RRBN saying that you’re looking for a bride?” Annabeth interrupted. “And you didn’t answer any of my calls—!” 

“My phone’s with my luggage. Not by choice, let me tell you,” Percy said with a deft shake of his head. “I’m sorry, I would’ve told you earlier today if I had it on me. I wasn’t told until today.”

“That you’re looking for a bride?” Bride, Annabeth decided, ranked in her top ten least favorite vocabulary words. “When? Are you having a consort ball?”

”Consort ball’s planned after graduation, if I don’t, by my dad’s words, “find someone fitting” by then,” Percy muttered. “The conversation lasted about two minutes, so that’s all I can tell you. It’s a long way away.”

Annabeth did the math in her head. After the school year, Percy would most likely host his consort ball in the summer, so— “It’s ten months away.” 

Percy hesitated. “We’ll figure it out.”

Annabeth shook her head. A derisive laugh laced her words, half-incredulity, half-panic. “No, we will not.” She turned around, straightening from her crouched position, to consult with Piper— “We won’t.”

“Probably not,” Piper agreed. “Who knows, I might still have to get married to Jason by his consort ball. All I got was his word that he wouldn’t pick me.” She shrugged. Annabeth and Percy both winced; Piper didn’t seem to notice. 

“We knew this was coming. We’ll deal with it,” Percy said, one hand grasping onto Annabeth’s fingers and giving her a soft tug. Annabeth turned to glance over at him, helplessness already in her chest. They did know it was coming, but some part of Annabeth’s mind had convinced her that it would never get this bad. That somehow, she and Percy would break up before then out of natural causes—that she wouldn’t have to break her own heart.

Annabeth sighed. The panic was already leaving her bones; not because she was particularly reassured, but because that was the effect Percy himself had on her. There was something about him—the color of his eyes; the curl of his hair; the sunny, freshwater scent—that calmed all her nerves, that quieted the pounding of her heart. “Let’s just talk about this later,” she mumbled, helping Percy to his feet. “I’ve got to show my roommates around soon. And they’re doing the lottery.” 

Percy glanced up. Sure enough, Headmaster Chiron was already announcing and explaining the lottery; soon Jason would step up to fish the lucky name out of the ball of papers. “I’ve got to get back to my crowd,” he said with a shake of his head. “I’ll text you as soon as I can.” 

Annabeth nodded. Percy’s hand intertwined with hers, fingers weaving against hers with a brief, warm moment: they couldn’t kiss in public, but their palms could. 

Annabeth weaved towards the front of the crowd, once again alone as Percy had gone back to the rest of the Atlantians. Her bag hung from her arm; she needed to help clean up later, but she hadn’t wanted to keep it with admissions where anyone could retrieve it. Jason was stepping up to the lottery ball, and he took a moment to find a slip of paper before pulling it out and reading the name out loud— “Thalia Orthia.”

There was a stir, but no girl came hurrying out of the crowd calling her name. Usually lottery winners attended the event, but as nobody stepped forward, Headmaster Chiron made a short explanation of how the retrieval process worked. Annabeth glanced over to Jason, who descended the stairway with a security guard separating him from the crowd of commoners yelling for him.

Annabeth stepped up to him, and the security guard let her pass, recognizing her uniform. “I can’t wait to take a nap,” Jason said with a yawn, one hand lifting to rub at his eye. His contact lenses gleamed blue inside, making the hue of his eyes even more striking. “Ugh, and take these off. You seen Percy yet?”

Annabeth scowled. Jason cocked a brow. “Uh-oh,” he said.

“Did you watch the news this morning?”

“I was getting ready for this. Must’ve missed it.” Jason turned, glancing towards the group of commoners—the screams got louder, and he waved demurely. “Usually lottery winner is here. Kinda weird.” 

“Whatever,” Annabeth said. “I—” her phone dinged, and she patted around looking for it. No notification gleamed upon the screen, however. “Oh. Tablet.” She yanked her Royal Charm School tablet out of her bag. She glanced over the message. “They’re putting the lottery winner with me.”

“Finisher?” Jason guessed. Annabeth nodded. She resided in a triple dorm, but her roommates were always finishers: she’d originally thought it’d just be her and Princess Reyna of Themiscyra for the year, but apparently the lottery winner had only been a finisher. “That ought to be fun.”

“When are you having your consort ball?” Annabeth blurted. Jason’s brows creased, and he stopped walking; they’d reached the front of the tent line, and he gestured for someone inside to pass him some water. “Is that—”

“Not for a long time, Annabeth. I’m not even a finisher.”

“I guess.” Annabeth grimaced. She and Jason were both in their senior year, and despite being from New Rome, most natives took their finishing year anyway. The first four school years mainly taught normal classes; the extra year was reserved for royal-specific ones. “I just—I—”

She didn’t even need to say what she was stressed about. Jason already knew. He grabbed his water and shook his head, the two of them resuming their walk and heading back to admissions. The crowd was rapidly downsizing; no point in sticking around anymore, after everything had finished. “There’s nothing you can do about it right now, okay? Political marriage is set in stone.”

Behind Jason, Piper squeaked. Annabeth’s eyes lifted to see they’d reached the admissions tent. Jason turned around slowly, and Annabeth could see the moment he registered who exactly was in the tent, even without access to his facial expressions. He stood a bit straighter. His muscles tensed. His voice came out high and cordial, full of faux, customer-service sweetness. “Hi, Piper. How are you doing today?”

Piper’s smile was just as bright, and no doubt, just as fake. “Fine, your highness. You?”

”Can’t complain,” Jason said stiffly.

Annabeth brushed past him. “Hera’s behind you,” she said, rescuing Piper, and no doubt Jason as well—he instantly turned around, regardless of the fact the regent was not, in fact, searching for him. “See you later.”

He jogged off. Piper sighed. “You’ll get over it,” Annabeth assured her. 

“I absolutely will not.” Piper hefted up one of the bins, just like she had before, though this time it was to start cleaning up. “I didn’t know he actually liked me, Annabeth! Of course it’d be good for the McLeans to accept his courting proposal, but—”

”Look on the bright side,” Annabeth pointed out. “Jason’s nice enough that he won’t even invite you to his consort ball when it happens. No matter what you think.”

Piper sighed again, starting to set papers and brochures back into her tub. “I have a great idea that’d revolutionize monarchies everywhere,” she said. “We should all get to marry who we want.” 

Annabeth rolled her eyes. “Brilliant idea, I’ll pitch it to my mom. She can bring it up during the next Government Council meeting.” Her tone dropped. “Yeah, I wish. That’s not how it works.”

Piper cast her a sympathetic glance, but even this one contained the same pity Annabeth had been trying so hard to avoid the first time around. “Come on, let’s get this all cleaned up so we can head off. It’s too hot out right now.” 

Annabeth barely got any time after cleaning up to herself. The instant she and Piper packed up the last box, Headmaster Chiron gestured her over. She swept a lock of hair out of her eyes, joining him by the front of the school—the crowd had all but disappeared, the only people left being the headmaster and the girl beside him. Annabeth recognized her instantly: Princess Reyna of Themiscyra. She was one of Jason’s possible suitresses; his older sister, Aglaia, was intended for one of Reyna’s cousins, but after she’d passed barely the age of two, that particular clause of the treaty had been abolished. The queen had proposed Reyna’s hand instead, but the New Rome government was yet to decide his bride yet. 

“Hello,” Annabeth said, curtsying to Reyna. “Pleasure to meet you, your highness.” 

“You as well,” Reyna said. “I hear we’ll be roommates?”

Annabeth nodded. Headmaster Chiron cleared his throat and interjected, “Miss Orthia should be here at any moment. If you could show them around, Annabeth.” 

Beside Reyna stood two dogs; Reyna patted one of their heads absently, but the silence didn’t last long. The sound of wheels rolling across the paved driveway filled the area, and Annabeth glanced up to see a horse-drawn carriage reaching where they were. It was customary, but Annabeth still grimaced. The girl inside the carriage hopped down, bringing a backpack along with her. Her hair was jet black and stuck up in all directions. Her skin seemed too pale for the warm New Rome weather. She was dressed head-to-toe in black, each item of clothing increasingly ratty. 

“Thalia?” Headmaster Chiron asked, stepping towards her. “I’m Headmaster Chiron, the principal of Royal Charm School. It’s nice to meet you.” 

Thalia did not look impressed. “Hey,” she said, as Headmaster Chiron gestured towards Annabeth and Reyna. He introduced them, and Annabeth took her cue, stepping forward to greet Thalia. The headmaster left shortly thereafter, and Annabeth sighed, clasping her hands together as she looked at her roommates. 

“Okay, guys,” she said, and Reyna blinked at the tone change; Thalia didn’t seem disturbed. “What do you wanna see first? Because I just want to go to our room and take a nap, to be honest.” She glanced at Reyna out of the corner of her eye, who smirked. Good. At least Annabeth hadn’t been assigned suck-ups for roommates. 

Thalia shrugged. “I’m not against the nap idea. I need time to process both being here, and also the fact that I am going to have to spend the next few months wearing that.”

It took a moment for Annabeth to register what she was talking about. She glanced down at her uniform—the blouse and vest, and the bright pink skirt and matching heels. “They’re not that bad.” 

Thalia cocked a brow. “They are that bad,” Reyna interjected, “And I’ve only been in this for an hour. The puffed sleeves make me want to throw up.”

Thalia snorted. Annabeth rolled her eyes, but it was good-natured—she was going to like her roommates. 

Dear Annabeth, 

I was so glad I was able to see you at Duchess Amphirite’s wedding. While it was too bad Jason couldn’t make it, I kind of preferred him sending you in his place (don’t tell him though). I already told you Amphirite was originally intended to marry my father right? It’s kinda funny since this is her third marriage since then… she’s not the biggest fan of me or my mom. 

Anwyay, what I wanted to talk about. Uh, at the wedding you asked me to dance right? Or, well, forced me to dance—okay, regrdaless, we danced. Uh. 

Did that.

Okay.

Your eyes are really beautiful. 

I think it might be wise to add that I’m not hvinag my tutor read over these notes aynomre. 

Yours, 

Percy 

Dear Percy, 

I recall you telling me that about your mom. I hope that this relationship turns out well for Duchess Amphirite. 

Thank you for the comment about my eyes, but Percy, I’m not from Atlantis. Have you forgotten you’re the crown prince? It’s on your stamp, though I see you didn’t use it. 

The dance was nice, though. 

Your eyes are also very beautiful. If you wanted to know. And—mine? 

Best regards, 

Annabeth 

Shortly after the trio arrived at their dorm room, Thalia ducked out to explore, leaving both Annabeth and Reyna inside. Annabeth was lying down onto her bed, tapping at her table. Sure enough, Percy had messaged her. His message was succinct: gardens? 

Annabeth sighed, rising to her feet. “I’m headed out,” she told Reyna. “Um, I’ll find you before assembly at eight.” 

Reyna nodded. Annabeth ducked out of the room, hurrying towards the closest building exit to step out into the quad. Beyond it, by the seaside, was an arrangement of gardens, including a hedge maze that Annabeth had memorized early in her first year attending the school. It was one of the most private parts of campus; no student didn’t have to worry about cameras or paparazzi snapping pictures of foreign scandals on Royal Charm School grounds, one of the many comforts that came with boarding on campus. 

Annabeth headed for the entrance of the hedge maze. Beyond the first turn Percy was waiting, and Annabeth was only a step into the seclusive shrubs when his hand reached out to grab hers. 

“Hey, Wise Girl,” he breathed, and Annabeth let out a soft, involuntary sigh as his arms wrapped around her. “Been a while.” 

”I’m still annoyed you couldn’t invite me to the palace over the summer,” Annabeth grumbled into the crook of his neck. He’d changed into uniform—his regalia had been swapped out for a button-down and slacks. At least he’d lost the crown. 

Percy shrugged. “Dad was getting suspicious. Now about this bride business—”

Annabeth cut him off. Her gut lurched, but she had to say it before him, just to ensure they didn’t dance around it. “We should break up.” 

Percy, for his credit, did not tense or jump. His hand raised to stroke down the tumbles of hair at the back of her head. Soothingly, he said, “Nah.”

Annabeth craned her neck up, ducking so she didn’t hit him with her head. “I beg your pardon?” 

“Nah,” Percy repeated. “It’s a year until they plan my consort ball. Ten months, whatever. I’m not going to bother looking for a bride. We’re still gonna be together.”

Annabeth unwrapped her arms from where they’d previously been thrown around Percy’s neck. She glanced behind her, then pushed Percy further into the hedge maze. ”Percy, it’s just delaying the inevitable.” 

There was a glint of determination in Percy’s eyes. “Ten months,” he repeated. “We can work something out in ten months. I’m not going to marry someone I don’t want to. I’m not going to marry anyone but—”

Annabeth leaned up to press a gentle kiss to Percy’s mouth before he could finish his sentence. It was incriminating beyond belief, and besides—they never reached that topic of discussion before. Delaying a marriage to someone else was one thing. Marrying was entirely another. Marrying Percy came with a hundred other conditions: the contingency came along with leaving New Rome and becoming Queen Consort—or Percy being deposed. There was a certain kind of hypocrisy King Poseidon held, marrying a commoner himself but refusing to grant the same allowance to Percy. Annabeth still wasn’t exactly sure how he’d managed to pull off being wedded to Sally. 

“Don’t,” Annabeth said, parting from Percy. “Fine. So we’ll take ten months to figure it out. But let me know if your team says anything else about it.” Somewhere in the back of her mind, Annabeth knew this was a bad idea. 

Percy’s mouth opened. “You know, I am going to have to marry someon—”

”I’m going to the library,” Annabeth interrupted, face rosy. One of Percy’s hands lifted to press the heel of his palm against the apple of her cheek. “Percy—”

Percy’s hand dropped. “Okay,” he said, but there was still wistfulness in his gaze. “Am I invited along?”

”As long as we don’t talk about this marriage thing. I need to get my mind off of it; I don’t need any excess stress going into my senior year.” Annabeth shook her head, then brightened. “Hey,” she said, voice soft, and Percy glanced over at her. “We’re going to be together the whole year. Same time zone. Same building…” 

“See why I said not to break up?” Percy said archly, and Annabeth rolled her eyes. 

Annabeth and Percy managed to spend a good few hours together before they had to disperse for assembly. The time, at least, did well to soothe the panic she’d been hosting for the better half of the day—Annabeth looked over her reading for the year and planned out her study schedule, then had glanced through the introductory chapters of all of her textbooks to ensure she was ready for the next day. 

Percy did no such preparation: his classes weren’t Mathematics or Science, though; rather, he attended Etiquette, Diplomacy, Economics, Business, Kingdom History, and a few other courses. Annabeth herself had Etiquette, though her own courses were rudimentary compared to what was learned in a finishing year. 

Annabeth got up as she realized the hour was nigh eight. She stretched, picking up her things and tapping Percy upside the chin. “Assembly,” she said. “I’ve got to drop stuff at my dorm. See you later.” 

Percy nodded, and Annabeth headed off. Reyna was right where she’d left her, sitting at one of the desks in the room and on a laptop. She glanced up as Annabeth entered the room. “Assembly?” she asked. 

“Yeah.” Annabeth set down her stuff, filing away all of her notebooks and study equipment where she usually put them. She caught a glimpse of a deep aquamarine blue filing folder. More out of habit than actual intention, she leaned to grab it, opening it with reverence. It was stacked full of blue envelopes, ones that caressed letters: letters Percy had written her over the past five years. The stationery was worn, soft to the touch. Annabeth had visited Percy’s palace once and seen his own collection of letters—while Annabeth kept his neat and orderly, hers were tossed into a shoebox and shoved under Percy’s bed. 

“Annabeth?” Reyna asked, and Annabeth startled, chastened. She closed the folder and set it back with the rest of her binders and papers, then got to her feet. She grabbed her school tiara off her beside, tucking it into the curls of her hair like she’d done so many times before. 

“Assembly will be in the main quad. This way.” 

Annabeth and Reyna filed into the quad, leaving a spot open for Thalia as neither could spot her jet-black hair in the crowd. A few moments after, Thalia hurried up to them, claiming the spot Annabeth had occupied with her handbag. “Thanks,” she whispered.

”No problem,” Annabeth answered. She turned her attention to the front, but it was the same every year—the Headmaster would again welcome the foreigners and the freshman class. She explained, in a low voice, the training tiaras to a bemused-looking Thalia as Headmaster Chiron started his usual school speech.

Annabeth lifted her gaze to glance over at Hera and Jason, who were standing up front with the headmaster. Reyna was in the midst of explaining her strained relationship with Regent Hera; Annabeth leaned closer, interested in spite of herself about the whole realm of marriages now. 

“Well, if Jason doesn’t accept my hand, I’ll be married off to another nobleman from New Rome.” Reyna sniffed, clearly not too pleased about the idea. Annabeth let out an irritated sigh. It seemed like nobody got to marry who they wanted—or who they didn’t want to. 

“I wish some other countries were finding consorts from here,” Annabeth muttered, mostly to herself. When she looked up, though, both Reyna and Thalia had craned their necks to stare at her curiously. Annabeth flushed. “What?” 

”You have a…” Reyna seemed hesitant to finish her sentence. “…Crush?”

Annabeth flushed. “Don’t call it that,” she said hotly, shaking her head. If only they knew. “He’s a prince. A crown one at that, so there’s no chance.” Her heart squeezed inwards, remembering what Percy had told her—but she didn’t want it to ruin the whole school year, given it’d yet to start. “His family will be looking for a wife within his own country, not New Rome—it’s stupid anyway.” 

Thalia and Reyna exchanged glances. “You never know,” Reyna pointed out. “Who is it? If his country isn’t that traditional, I’m sure something could be arranged. It’s not as you’re a commoner.” 

Annabeth suppressed her scoff. “Nope. We’re not talking about this. What we are going to talk about is school, classes, or any questions about the New Rome aristocracy either of you may have.” 

Reyna shrugged. Annabeth turned towards Thalia, who’d raised her hand up in a general flip of her palm. “Reyna mentioned a lost princess.”

Annabeth gaped at her. “You don’t know who the lost princess is?” Annabeth demanded, at the same time Reyna said, “You’re literally from New Rome! There’s no way you haven’t heard about the lost princess.” 

Thalia flushed, the paleness of her skin turning easily pink. “Obviously I have,” she protested, “I just don’t know the details. It’s not like I keep up on tabloid drama about the royal family; I just… I thought she was dead.” 

“Oh. Annabeth cleared her throat, a bit ashamed. “No, yes, she is. Princess Aglaia. Legally.” She rambled on for a moment, then cut back to the point. “They never found a corpse in the car crash that killed her, King Zeus, and Queen Beryl. It’s a rumor that she might still be alive—I’m a personal believer in it.” She and Piper both, actually, though neither of them mentioned it around Jason given the time they’d attempted at the ripe age of ten hadn’t gone over very well. 

It was kind of nice, being able to gossip and get her mind off of the worries that plagued her. Annabeth helped Thalia put her training tiara on when the cart stopped by their row, tucking the teeth through the strands of black hair swept across her brow. 

Afterwards, the trio headed towards the dining hall, where Annabeth took her usual spot with Piper and some of the other Lord and Lady Royals. She yearned to go up and sit with Jason—Percy was at his side, after all—but she figured a few days apart might be better while all of the new students were goggling at the crown royals. 

Annabeth’s brilliant—in her opinion—decision was cut off shortly when Jason and Percy wandered over. Annabeth ducked her head as Jason offered her a fist bump, as if they hadn’t spoken earlier that day. She pursed her lips—she figured Jason probably wanted to find Piper, given the two hadn’t spoken since… well, The Incident—and murmured a soft, “I don’t know where Piper is, before you ask.” 

Jason nodded, teeth white as he grinned. He glanced over at the rest of Annabeth’s table— “You’ve met, um, Percy, right?” he asked, gesturing towards him. Percy’s eyes met Annabeth’s and she smiled softly, warmth glowing across her cheeks. 

”We’re familiar,” Annabeth hastened to say, more for Reyna and Thalia’s sake than Jason’s, who obviously already knew. After formal introductions had been made, Percy and Jason headed off, and Annabeth ripped her gaze away and hurried to detail the rest of the cafeteria’s occupants to her roommates. No harm, no foul; she told herself—or rather, out of sight out of mind.  

Percy’s marriage was definitely out of sight. So why couldn’t she get it out of her mind? 

Annabeth, 

I know it’s been a while sicne my last letter. I didn’t really know what to say about yuor last one. Uh, of course I know I’m the crown prince. But I’m also like trhiteen. 

Aywnay, the main point of this letter is this—since summer’s starting soon, do yuo want to visit Atlantis? You said you’ve neevr been here bofeor and my mom wanted me to invite some friends to stay at our lake house. (I don’t know why we have a lake huose. Our placae is on the waterfront.) I will also invite Jason (he porboably won’t come) and Nico and some other people I guess. But I really just want you to come. 

Let me know.

Yours, (yes, yours) 

Percy 

Dear Percy, 

I’d love to come visit you at your lake house. Did you invite Lady Piper? She’s one of my closest friends (as you know). And I’m not sure if you met the Stolls—they’re the sons of Count Stoll—but you might also want to. They’re nice; we’re not particularly close (had some unfortunate pranks pulled on me and well, I don’t really trust them) but I think if Jason isn’t able to come they might appreciate it. 

Best, 

Annabeth

Annabeth, 

Are you trying to make sure it’s not jsut me and you at the lake huose? Because it won’t be. But I’ll keep your invitees in mind. 

You relaly should pick one ending thing to scitk to.

I can’t wait to see you again.

Yours, 

Percy

The first few weeks of school went, as far as things went, relatively smoothly. Annabeth was able to forget about Percy’s inevitable engagement to a mystery Atlantian woman, focusing instead on her schoolwork and grades. Every afternoon consisted of doing homework with her roommates; going out with Percy; and dinner with her group of friends. Reyna and Thalia learned of her and Percy’s secret rather early on, joining the few who were aware—Jason and Piper. 

Thalia seemed to get easily along with Jason, which was unexpected given throughout his life the only companions he’d really been close to included Piper, Annabeth herself, Percy, and Jason’s cousin Nico. Regardless of which, though, their newfound friendship came with unwanted drama—which was, of course, Jason’s eventual marriage.

Annabeth could not, it seemed, get away from the topic. 

She settled beside Reyna, Thalia, and Piper in the ladies’ lounge. Their study materials were all over the tables, though Thalia seemed to be getting less and less enthusiastic about them the more the school year went on. “Have you heard the recent gossip?” Piper asked dully, picking at the bowl of candy in the center of their homework paraphernalia. “There’s a new fighter to the Jason harem.” 

“The what?” 

“The Jason harem,” Annabeth filled in. “It’s what we call the circus of Jason’s arranged marriage proposals. Current fighters: Piper, Reyna—” Reyna groaned— “Some very insistent members of the aristocracy including Drew, and now, well…” Annabeth shrugged. “You.” 

Thalia looked pained. “I don’t want to date Jason. We’ve been through this.” 

“Unfortunately for you, nobody cares,” Piper said blandly. “Nobody ever will.” 

Annabeth snorted. “She’s speaking from experience,” she said, and Piper grimaced. “I too can speak from experience. Because—”

“I told you not to date a prince,” Piper pointed out. “Out of everyone I know, Annabeth, you were the last person I’d expect that would do something so stupid.” 

Annabeth cringed as Thalia and Reyna’s curious eyes fell on her. While they were now aware of Percy, it wasn’t something she liked talking about. It made it all the more real— the fact that their end was soon; inevitable. “Can we not?” she asked. 

“You know what we should talk about? Connor Stoll,” Reyna said, glancing over at Thalia. 

“No we shouldn’t. He flirts with everyone; he told me himself,” Thalia scoffed. “And I don’t need to worry about potential relstionships when I’m pretty sure I’m not going to finish the semester.” She glared down at her homework. “Is it possible to flunk out a month in?”

“No.” Annabeth shook her head. “You’re not going to flunk.” 

“I’m losing my mind,” Thalia muttered. 

It was safe to say tensions were high. Annabeth went where she always did whenever she wanted to ease the murmurs of her mind: the library. Standing amidst the books made her feel better: the architecture; the rounded edges of the bookshelves; the vintage furniture scattered amongst the hardwood floor.  Annabeth picked a volume on the architecture of New Rome, settling down one of the couches so she could crack the pages open and glance through the writings and the pictures interspersed within the text. 

She was a few chapters in, the turning of pages making her eyelids heavy, when the scent of summer freshwater caused her chin to lift. Percy smiled as he came to a stop in front of her. “I see I’m not as stealthy as I thought.” 

Annabeth brought her finger to her lips. “Shh. We’re in a library.” 

Percy’s hand reached for Annabeth’s as he took a gentle seat on the sofa beside her. His caress was warm; his fingers tangled with hers. “Sure. I feel like I haven’t seen you at all this past week.” 

“I’ve been busy with the girls. I think Thalia’s a few bad classes away from giving up entirely,” Annabeth replied. “But ditto, I guess.” 

Percy flashed a grin. “We should go out on the weekend,” he optioned. “Aren’t there places you wanted to show me? That restaurant you like?” 

“People are going to recognize you,” Annabeth hissed. 

“Trust me, your country’s citizens do not care that much about a foreign prince,” Percy snorted. “And I’ll dress inconspicuously.” 

“Sure, then. Saturday. Finish your homework and it’s a date.” 

Percy slapped a hand against his chest. “Do you really think I wouldn’t do my homework?”

Annabeth cocked an eyebrow. 

“Okay, fine, you’re right. I have stuff for Diplomacy I need to do.” Percy grimaced. “And I think Business once the weekend’s come around.” 

“Oh, well. Not too horrible of a roster to have,” Annabeth said. “I’ll stop by your dorm at seven on Saturday, then.” 

Percy nodded, getting up from the couch to press a gentle kiss against Annabeth’s brow. “See you later,” he promised, and every word out of his mouth sounded like an oath. Annabeth beamed in spite of herself. 

As it turned out, Thalia was close to cracking. Annabeth was spread out with Piper on her bed, the two of them up to their shoulders in homework, when the door flung open and Thalia sulked inside. Annabeth glanced up: instantly, Reyna caught her eye, mouthing a not good before turning her attention towards Thalia. 

“I don’t know,” Thalia was groaning. “Maybe Madam Dike was right.” 

Annabeth cocked an eyebrow. “Right about what?” she asked, glancing over at Reyna once more as if her expression would bear an explanation of what had happened. 

Thalia shrugged, kicking off her shoes. “I asked her what the point was. In holding my cup.” At Annabeth’s perplexed expression, Reyna once again mouthed, “ mock tea party”. “She shamed me in front of the entire class and told me that if I didn’t respect the rules of the upper class then I might be better off not participating in it.” 

Annabeth glanced in Piper’s direction, who looked a bit sympathetic, but no such feeling ran in Annabeth’s veins. “That’s horrible,” Piper said. 

Annabeth opened her mouth to speak, but Reyna was before she could. “She had a point,” Reyna disagreed, and Thalia glanced over at her, looking surprised. “Thalia, you don’t really respect a lot of what comes with being a princess, or Lady Royal, or whichever. You’re studious and attentive in government-related classes, but the instant we get to high society, you act like it’s below you. You don’t respect the system, and that’s fine. There might be more effective governmental systems, but the fact of the matter is weren’t not in one.”

“Well,” Thalia started. Reyna shook her head.

”No.” 

Annabeth winced, but she didn’t say anything. Piper, too, had bowed her head. In actuality, Annabeth hadn’t realized it’d gotten this bad—but she’d dormed with a lottery winner once before, in her freshman year, and she hadn’t taken kindly to the rules associated with society either. It was, as much as Annabeth disliked admitting it, almost a given. Thalia, with her devil-may-care attitude and preference for the Government Council—Annabeth had only heard her talk about how one day she wanted to sit upon it—was generally unequipped for royal life.

As much as Annabeth hated to admit it, it was kind of something you were born into. Nobody else understood the rules, the etiquette, the seemingly nitpicked and needless details that never escaped the eyes of the elite. 

But that wasn’t entirely true, either. Every culture had rules that seemed stupid to outsiders—even ones not of the aristocracy. It was what came with social life, regardless of what tax bracket it came from. So maybe it was a matter of respect for customs. Culture shock was soothable, and Annabeth liked Thalia. She wanted her to be able to soothe it. 

“It’s part of being a human, really,” she said quietly, after Reyna had finished with her monologue. “Maybe, well—maybe commoners don’t have the rules lined out as much as we do, but it’s the same. You have to act a certain way. Have a certain posture.”

Thalia turned away. She said nothing for a long moment, and Annabeth glanced nervously at Reyna and Piper, all silent as they waited for her to speak. Finally, Thalia said, “You’re right. I’m sorry. I…”

She trailed off. Thalia tightened her arms around her, swallowing so hard that Annabeth could hear the gulp of her saliva traveling down her throat. 

“Maybe Madam Dike was right,” Thalia repeated. “Maybe I’m not cut out for this. Maybe… maybe I should quit.” 

Annabeth’s lips pursed. Neither Reyna nor Piper spoke, so she took it upon herself to. “If you think it’s for the best,” she said. “High society isn’t for everyone.” 

Annabeth, 

I’m glad you got to visit

I liked seeing you at the lake 

I think

Okay. I’m dropping the foramalites. 

You didn’t even say goodbye. 

I know I shouldn’t have kissed you without asking first. But you could’ve—I mean—

You left for New Rome without saying goodbye! 

I thought we had something. Please just text me back. Email me back. I’ve been messaging your social medias. At the very least respond to this letter. 

Yours, 

Percy 

P.S. in case you didn’t catch it from me KISSING you. I like you. 

Percy,

I’m sorry for leaving. I’m also sorry for ghosting you. I’m responding through this letter because I need more time to collect my thoughts than responding to one of your texts. 

I didn’t mind the kiss. (That’s why I kissed you back.) I just think it’s unbefitting of your station to kiss someone like me. I have told you so many times, because I felt us going in this direction—I am not an Atlantian. We cannot be together. 

Yours,

Annabeth

Annabeth,

Oh, so you’re mine now? 

I’m going to call you. 

Yours, 

Percy 

Percy, 

We talked about this over text. And call. Your letter arrived much too late. I suppose this is our first bout of letters as a couple. I hope you know I still think this is a stupid idea. 

Congratulations on not having a misspelling in that letter. 

Yes.

Love,

 Annabeth

Annabeth,

Can I cnosnider these love letters? 

Yours, 

Percy 

Percy, 

I feel like we should resume our previous multiple-page letter system because it seems asinine to waste stamps on one-sentence letters going out of the country. 

Love,

Annabeth

Annabeth was torn between dressing nicely and wearing the most inconspicuous pieces in her closet. Come Saturday, she was pacing around her room, unsure of what she wanted to wear. It was hardly her and Percy’s first date—but it was their first date when they resided in the same country for longer than two weeks. She wasn’t used to seeing his face. She wasn’t used to having the ability of seeing his face whenever she wanted to. 

“Do you need help?” Thalia, who was in the midst of her leaving-school contemplation, stopped the angst of her schoolwork to glance over at Annabeth. 

“I’m not going to trust a girl who wears intentionally distressed clothing with fashion advice,” Annabeth said bluntly, and Thalia barked out a sharp laugh. “I don’t know whether I should dress nice or normal.” 

“Just wear something nice and toss a hoodie over it,” Thalia replied. “Reyna?”

“I don’t dress up for anything aside for royal duties.”

“Which is… every day?”

Reyna shrugged. “You’re on your own.” 

Annabeth rifled through the few dresses she’d pulled out, eventually settling on a warmer, long-sleeved one. She changed into it, ensuring to put on knee-high socks and sneakers to make it look a bit more casual. She let down her hair, combing the curls out with her fingers and doing her makeup very lightly. Then she tossed a hoodie over it. 

“See? Incognito-date ready,” Thalia said. Annabeth rolled her eyes, but it was good-natured. “Have fun.”

”I will.” Annabeth stepped out of the dorm, heading down the halls towards where the boys’ dormitories were. Percy was already standing outside his door when Annabeth reached it, exactly at seven. “Eager, I see.”

Percy shrugged. “Feels like school never ends here. I’m not used to an academy.”

”Palace-schooled your whole life,” Annabeth teased, and Percy shrugged once more, not looking ashamed. “It’s walking distance, so we don’t need to get your driver or anything. Security detail…?” 

“Quintus is tailing,” Percy said. Quintus was the only person other than their friends who knew of their relationship—he was loyal to Percy, and apparently didn’t leak the information to even the king, which Annabeth suspected had more to do with sympathy about his eventual demise of marriage rather than any actual fealty to the prince. “We’ll be okay.” 

Annabeth glanced around. The school corridors were all but empty now, so she took Percy’s hand as they headed out towards the school exit. Outside, the sun was rapidly setting—glows of orange cast across the sky, contrasting with the deep blue that was bleeding over the dusty ceruleans that had fixed the heavens during the day. As they headed off campus and a few blocks downtown, Annabeth could almost imagine that they were normal. Commoners. 

The gleam of a restaurant’s—diner, really—neon lights glinted at the corner of Annabeth’s eye. She tugged Percy under the striped awning of the restaurant, where the words AUNTY EM’S EATERY hung in bright green. The bell rang as Annabeth pushed the door in. It was on the busier side, so Annabeth pulled the hood of her hoodie up, and Percy followed suit.

”Table of two?” the hostess asked, then glanced up; Juniper’s face lit up in recognition. “Oh, Annabeth. We’ll get the back ready for you.”

”You come here often?” Percy murmured. Annabeth nodded, glancing around furtively as if ensuring there was nobody standing around with cameras. It didn’t look like it, so she turned her attention back to Percy. 

”I did mention it like fifty times in our letters,” she replied softly. Juniper grabbed two menus, ushering Annabeth towards the back of the diner, where a few tables were sectioned off using room dividers. She sat them at the inner corner; Annabeth saw Quintus sit a few tables away. “I’m friends with the owner.”

”Aunty Em?”

”Yeah.” Annabeth flipped open the menu, though she’d already memorized it. “My mom used to work here when she was a commoner. She’d part-time here and at the university. So she brought dad here, and me when they had me…” 

“Little family spot,” Percy mused.

Annabeth nodded. “The only place where we’re normal.” 

Percy leaned over then, and Annabeth stilled as his hands came to brush the sides of her face. His knuckles swept along her brow, and after a moment, Annabeth realized what he was doing as light kissed the tops of her eyes. Her hood fell around her shoulders as he pushed it back. “I suppose you know what’s good here, then?”

”Everything. I’m going to get a garden burger, though,” Annabeth replied. “Side of crinkle fries and fruit salad.” Percy nodded, but he didn’t lean back to peruse the menu—he kept his hand hovering by Annabeth’s face. She laughed. “Aren’t you interested in getting something?”

”A regular cheeseburger.” 

“Do you want avocado on that?’

”Avocado is not a cheeseburger topping.” 

Annabeth rolled her eyes. “Sure. Aunty Em’s special, then.” As Juniper returned for their drink orders, she said, “Sweet tea. Soda for him.” 

Juniper nodded and headed off. Percy finally leaned back, his hands moving across the table to shut his menu. “They have dessert?”

”If you look at the menu, Seaweed Brain, you’ll be able to see it.”

”Guess it’s not dessert time anyway. I was about to ask the life update, then realized I don’t need to be caught up because I haven’t been in a different country for six months.”

Annabeth beamed. “Nice feeling, isn’t it?”

”Wonderful feeling. Has there been a life update in the past twenty-four hours?”

Annabeth shook her head. “Other than the fact I think Thalia might actually drop out? No.” 

“Oh. Jason’s not gonna be happy about that.” Juniper returned with their drinks, and Annabeth quickly put in their order. “He really likes her.”

”Yeah, I’m kind of sad about it too. It feels like she’s been around for years,” Annabeth said with a sigh. “She kind of reminds me of something, I just don’t know what—or who. Why are you asking, anyway? Do you have life updates?” 

“No, which I’m going to take as a good thing. I feel like if I have updates it’ll have to do with the…” Percy grimaced. Annabeth’s heart pulsed, and she stared down at the table in front of them, one hand sneaking out to trace her almond-shaped, perfectly-manicured fingernail around the squares of the red-and-white checkered pattern of its top. “But you know.”

”Yeah.” 

“Do you have plans for winter break? End of semester’s coming up… somewhat soon,” Percy said. Annabeth shrugged. “I’m headed back to Atlantis, but, uh… I was wondering if you’d…”

”We better not,” Annabeth said softly. “Not even to visit. It’s too suspicious.” 

“I could try to stay here, then. At the school,” Percy suggested. “I’d like to just… spend the holidays with you. Nobody else, you know?”

”My parents are going to get suspicious. Someone will, wherever we host it.” Percy made a face, and Annabeth sighed. She didn’t want to feel like she was the one preventing this, and while she knew that wasn’t Percy’s intention, it made her feel terrible anyway. But there were rules they had to follow, ones they’d made together. Their relationship was risky—it had always been. “I’m serious. We can’t.”

”I know. I just like to hope.” Percy drummed his fingers against the table, then seemed to notice that Annabeth hadn’t stopped with her tracing. Slowly, his hand crept across the tabletop to take hers in an action all-too-familiar. “But if I stay, it’ll make sense if I come to visit—I won’t have anyone else to. We can say I go out to see Jason one day, Nico. Or you can say you’re spending the day at Piper’s but really come over to hang out with me.” 

Annabeth scoffed. “That’s risky.”

“Piper will cover and Quintus doesn’t care as long as I’m not an active security risk.” 

Annabeth ducked her head, staring back down at the tiles of the tabletop. “I’ll think about it. But what are you going to tell your parents if they’re expecting you over for the holidays? And Estelle, too. Do you want to miss her first Christmas?” It seemed a low blow to make—Percy’s sister had been born only earlier that year, and the new princess was everything to him. “You’ll have to think of a good excuse.”

”I’ll figure it out. I always do.”

“Through a hilarious comedy of errors and with the skills bestowed upon you by your title,” Annabeth grumbled. “There is not one chance that you actually have a thought-out plan for this.”

Percy considered it. “Okay, maybe not, but—”

“But nothing. December’s a while away anyway. We can wait.” Annabeth retreated her grip from Percy’s as Juniper returned with their food, setting their burgers and sides atop the table. “Thank you, Juniper.”

Halfway through their meal, which was mostly enjoyed in silence, Percy glanced up, a crinkle fry dangling between two fingers. “Annabeth?” he asked, and Annabeth glanced up in question. 

“Yeah?”

“If you could go back to the lake house,” he said slowly, “After I’d kissed you for the first time. If you were given a second chance, would you—I mean, would you still date me? Or would you just…” 

He trailed off, but Annabeth knew what he was talking about. Ghost me was the end of the sentence he didn’t finish. 

There was a part of Annabeth that wanted to confirm that she would not, in fact, have played the route like it’d ended up being played. That she would’ve held strong; stayed in her lane; understood what was required of her station. There was a part of her that felt it shameful that she’d even lapsed her judgment in the first place.

The other part of her, though, knew she’d succumb to him every time. 

“I’d still respond,” she said. Every word rang true. “I’d still tell you my own feelings. We’d still end up in this situation.” 

Percy scrutinized her carefully. “And is that a good thing in your eyes?”

Annabeth picked up a piece of watermelon to avoid answering his question. “I am not ashamed to be with you,” she said. “I am in love with you.”

”But you’re ashamed to be with the Crown Prince of Atlantis.” Percy’s voice was not flat nor tender. It was something that had not made its mind up yet. “You don’t want to love me with the strings attached.” 

“I cannot love you with the strings attached. It is impossible,” Annabeth corrected. Percy didn’t look convinced. “Look. I don’t want to argue.”

”We’re not arguing. Who said we’re arguing? We’re not.” Percy sniffed, shoveling the last few fries in his mouth. “It’s just—it’s us against them. We have to be a team.”

“We are a team,” Annabeth said, perplexed. 

“No, that’s not what I—”

“Then what do you—?” 

“Never mind.” Percy shook his head. “The dessert menu. What’s good?”

Annabeth ignored him. “Percy, what are you getting at?” she insisted, but Percy refrained from meeting her eyes, focusing instead on the invisible menu in front of him. “Percy.” 

Percy shook his head once more. “Never mind,” he repeated, and this time he sounded a little more official—a little more kingly. It was like a slap to the face, even as Annabeth knew he didn’t mean any harm by speaking that way: that there was no tone of voice reserved for being a king, really. It served as a reminder all the same. 

Annabeth was not fit for Percy’s hand, and she never would be. 

Jason, as it turned out, was upset about Thalia leaving Royal Charm School. So much so that he managed to get her to change her mind. Annabeth wasn’t sure what he’d said that had magically brought back Thalia’s determination, but sure enough, there was a glint in her eye not dissimilar to Jason’s whenever he really set his mind to anything. The two of them really were alike. 

Regardless of which, classes went on like normal, a bit more pep in everyone’s daily schedules what with Thalia’s renewed vigor. Connor Stoll’s interest in her also turned out to be of the exclusive kind. In the same week, Thalia announced to her roommates that she was now somehow being courted by the count’s son. 

Reyna almost spat out her breakfast. “Why? He’s not even cute and all his jokes are bad.”

”Reyna, you don’t think anyone’s cute,” Annabeth pointed out. Piper snickered. “Though I have to agree, his jokes are bad.”  

Thalia sighed, staring down at her avocado toast like it was the only thing at the table that currently understood her. “He is cute, thanks, Reyna. And his jokes are bad, but at least he knows they’re bad.” 

“Oh, god. You like a loser because he’s confident about being a loser. Thalia, you’re way too cool for him,” Piper stressed. 

“Okay, I didn’t ask your opinion. Shut up.” 

Piper shrugged. “Whatever,” she said, then popped the last item on her breakfast tray—a final apple slice—into her mouth and stood. “Annabeth, see you at Etiquette later. I’ve got to get to Lit.” 

She got up, heading off. Annabeth polished off the last bit of her breakfast bagel, then brushed the crumbs off of her skirt with a spare napkin. “I’ve got to get going too,” she said. “See you guys at dorm later?” 

Reyna and Thalia both nodded. Annabeth’s classes were, for the most part, unamusing; she poured herself into each subject regardless, thoroughly exhausted by the time she took her regular spot beside Piper in their Etiquette classroom. 

Madam Iris had set up the projector by the time Annabeth settled into her seat. The slideshow she’d pulled up was entitled, in big, swirling letters, “POLITICAL MARRIAGES”. 

“Oh god,” Annabeth muttered.

”My thought exactly.” 

The slideshow was everything Annabeth dreaded and already knew. It opened with explaining when political marriages occurred—more so than just the traditional marriages for power, money, or land. No, this also covered the explanations of why political marriages were important; why the royal family could not marry commoners; and when countries wanted to find pairs within their own citizens or from a different group. 

The process of finding a suitor or suitress was also outlined, to Piper’s irritation—when Madam Iris explained that it was unbefitting of a woman to reject a courting proposal from the crown prince, she grimaced.  

“It is the single highest duty offered to a lady of noble birth,” Madam Iris explained. “Rejecting such an offer is a rejection of society itself.”

”She doesn’t know what she’s talking about,” Piper grumbled to herself, more for her own sake. Her hands had dug deep into her hair, fingernails clacking against her crown. Annabeth would’ve chastened her, but Madam Iris wasn’t paying attention, and Annabeth was halfway to that position herself. 

“Tell me about it,” Annabeth murmured, though her eyes were fixed on the section of the textbook that matched the slideshow illustrating the seeking of wives outside of a home country. The text was simple: the search for a consort outside of a nation is an usual practice, and is most often done only to unite kingdoms (i.e. through a marriage to second-born or lower, or a cousin of the monarch’s—no less). All things Annabeth was already aware of. All practices that went against her station. 

Besides, she had situational pressure. Duke Chase was walking a very thin line by marrying a commoner. Annabeth was and always would be half-commoner: not truly of the aristocracy. Percy got a write-off for being the son of a king. Annabeth got nothing, and perhaps a bit less for being a woman. 

By the time the class ended, Annabeth was in an overall sour mood, as was Piper. The two slunk off to Annabeth’s dormitory together, neither upbeat enough to soothe the other’s qualms. 

“What happened to you two?” Thalia asked as Annabeth opened the door and practically collapsed into the room. “Did Madam Iris kill all sense of your originality? Have you turned into obedient robot-clones of the perfect noblewoman?”

”She killed all sense of marriage-related hopes,” Piper grumbled. 

“Oh, shut up, Piper; you’re in the clear,” Annabeth scoffed. She hadn’t meant it rudely, and Piper knew that; she only shrugged, even as Annabeth’s tone came out a bit too scathing. “I just—I can’t—”

Piper shoved off her shoes and collapsed onto Annabeth’s bed. “Do you even want to marry Percy?”

”It doesn’t matter. What matters is that I don’t get the choice,” Annabeth said instantly. “And it’s not really a matter of getting to marry him—it’s a matter of someone else marrying him.” she flung herself onto the bed beside Piper, burying her face into her pillow. “Wake me up in five hours.”

”Not like that. Your makeup’s still on. Also, I assume you have homework,” Reyna said. Annabeth rolled supine, stretching out her spine as she stared up at the ceiling. Phosphenes blurred her vision as she adjusted once again to the light after not having it for a bit. 

Thalia’s words were no more helpful, though decidedly more careless. “This is such a weird reaction from someone I see always put-together.”

Annabeth glared at her. “You try keeping a multiple-year-long doomed relationship with the crown prince of a different country.” 

”Fair enough. Sorry I said anything.” 

Annabeth shrugged, though she was too tired to execute the full motion of her shoulders. They sloped back halfway, giving up on completing the action. “Whatever. At least the semester’s almost done. we’ll get to the ball and everything will be okay for two weeks.” 

“Is Percy going back to Atlantis?” 

“He doesn’t want to, but I don’t think he’s figured out an excuse. I’d like to have him here, but I’m expecting it to not work out,” Annabeth replied. “So I guess we’ll see.” 

Annabeth,

Did you hear at all about Jason and Piper? I think soemtihng hapenped. Jason refused to say anything so I haven’t got a peep out of him. But he did tell me he itnended to ask Piper’s hand in cuortsihp, but… they are defienately NOT courting.

The reason I’m gossisping over letter is becasue I trust the security of snail mail more than the security of our texts. And I don’t want ayntihng to leak. 

Yours,

Percy

Percy, 

Yeah, Piper told me everything. I don’t want to share with too many people—or anyone at all—but she said I could tell you. 

Jason did ask Piper for her hand in courtship but she rejected him. Obviously if her parents knew about that they’d be angry so Jason’s keeping it a secret (I assume, it’s not like him to do otherwise). Piper’s terrified he’s going to tattle and that she’ll end up having to marry him though. 

She used to have a crush on him and I asked her why she’d reject him then. She said because she didn’t know whether she actually liked him or if it was just parental pressure to date him. Because, you know, he’s the crown prince.

Love,

Annabeth

Annabeth,

I hope you don’t feel that way about me.

Also, you’re aware I’m coming to Royal Charm School for my finishing year come fall, right? 

Yours, 

Percy

Percy, 

That did make me laugh. I can assure you I do not considering we will not be able to get married. But also—this is kind of a sensitive subject. If any of the adults get wind of it Piper is most certainly done for. 

Also, the two of them are now incredibly awkward around each other. My two closest friends refuse to speak. I wish you were here. 

I cannot wait for you to come to New Rome for school. 

Love,

Annabeth

The memorial ball on the day of the royal family’s car crash was held annually, though it also served as a celebration of the completion of Royal Charm School’s fall semester. It was always a weird whiplash, in Annabeth’s opinion: for three years in a row she’d had to watch one of her closest friends make a speech on his dead relatives, only for them to celebrate completing half of their school year fifteen minutes later. It seemed inappropriate given the times. 

Even more inappropriate, given this time through, they were not only celebrating the end of the school year, but also a birthday. On their way in the horse-drawn carriages that were bringing them to the palace for the ball, Piper said to Thalia, “Happy birthday. Kind of a fun coincidence, right? That you were born today of all days?” 

Thalia scoffed, arranging the black of her dress around her figure as she shifted. The carriage was not a smooth ride; Annabeth had gotten used to it after yearst, but Thalia was still wincing every time they rode over a bump or a dip somewhere. “I wasn’t,” she said. “Orphaned, remember? This was the day I was found.”

Annabeth’s head jerked up, her eyes trailing over Thalia’s face. “Found,” she repeated, almost unwittingly. For the hundredth time since she’d met her, Annabeth got the distinct feeling that she’d seen Thalia somewhere before—but where, she couldn’t place. Nothing made sense. 

Thalia rolled her eyes. “I’ve told you this before,” she reminded. “Dumped on the side of the street.”

Annabeth nodded, lost in thought. Nothing else came to her.

The ball was something Annabeth was used to after years of attending the same one, or even ones of a similar vein. Annabeth got announced along with her family, then hunted around for her friends so they could gather up and duck downstairs rather than mingle for the full few hours they’d be there. 

She glimpsed Percy’s parents with him as they were announced and looked away. If they’d come for the ball, there was no doubt Percy would be heading back with them. The hope she’d held onto, as silly as it was, was for naught. She wouldn’t be seeing him at all over the break. 

“You look glum, sweetheart,” Annabeth’s dad said as they drifted around the crowd of dignitaries, making nice with glasses in their hands—wine for Frederick, a virgin drink for Annabeth. For the better half of an hour, she murmured niceties to high lords and ladies alike. 

“I’m not glum,” Annabeth replied, taking a sip of her drink. “This is just the fourth time I’ve had to do this annually and it’s boring for me.” 

Frederick snorted. “It doesn’t get any less boring. At least you’re not like your mom.” 

“I guess.” Annabeth glanced across the way, spotting her mother, who was surrounded by various dignitaries and seemed locked in stern conversation. It seemed a lot less preferable to the simple greetings Annabeth and her father were required to do.  

“Oh, there’s Percy. I haven’t seen King Poseidon in a while. We should go say hello,” Frederick said, and before Annabeth could protest, he started her in the direction of the Atlantian royal family. Annabeth followed without much protest, given she couldn’t exactly do anything about it. A flush dusted her cheeks; she’d donned a dress of deep sea green for the night, the velvet halter-neck chosen due to the hue that matched the warmth of Percy’s eyes. She hoped Sally or Poseidon wouldn’t notice. 

Percy’s expression, previously grave, brightened upon Annabeth nearing the vicinity. His hand drifted from his mother’s, stepping forward to greet Annabeth and Frederick as they moved towards them. 

“Annabeth!” Sally grabbed Annabeth’s free hand before Percy could, less so of a handshake and more of a warm grasp of hello. “I haven’t seen you in so long. You’ve certainly gotten taller, haven’t you?” 

“It’s nice to see you, your majesty,” Annabeth replied, and didn’t object when Sally went in for a hug. “How’s Estelle?”

“She should be taking a nap, hopefully,” Sally said with a laugh. “I had her down just earlier so she should be alright. How have you been? The semester wasn’t too hard on you, I expect?” 

“No, not at all,” Annabeth said reassuringly. “It was nice having Percy around.” 

Percy had an easy smile on his face as he watched Annabeth and Sally converse. For a moment, Annabeth could pretend that Sally knew, that this was normal, even when it wasn’t. 

“I’m glad your study guides got to help him. At least the finishing year will teaching him some semblance of a normal school’s function before university,” Sally said with a loving scoff. “We’re sending him to New Rome for college; did he tell you?” 

Annabeth turned towards Percy, genuine surprise touching her eyes as her jaw fell slack. “Really?” she asked, and if she sounded a bit breathless, only he could tell. 

Percy grinned. One of his hands extended towards Annabeth, though she didn’t take it lest Sally or Poseidon—although in conversation with Frederick now—noticed. “Yup. Dad and I looked over our options, but we decided NRU was our best bet.” 

“So you’ll be…” Annabeth struggled to voice it. “In New Rome. For the next four years.” 

“Percy’s eventual betrothed is also going to NRU, whomever it will be, so they’ll get the time with each other,” Sally put in, a glimmer in her eye. “Isn’t that sweet?” 

The light in Annabeth’s heart immediately dimmed. She searched in Percy’s eyes, but for what, she wasn’t quite sure—and all she found was regret and guilt, neither of which fit the hole in her chest. 

“Very,” she eventually managed out. “It’ll be nice getting to know her. I’m sure me and Piper will like her.” 

“Annabeth,” Percy started, but his voice was rife with emotions unfit, so Annabeth drifted away before he could finish his sentence. 

Shortly thereafter, Annabeth found her friends, trying not to dwell too much on the disappointment that echoed within her heart. She tugged Thalia, Piper, and Reyna towards one of the side doors, determined to spend the rest of the gala with people she actually liked in one of Jason’s lounges rather than the grand ballroom. 

They were halfway down the hallways, led by Annabeth herself, when Annabeth paused down one of the corridors. The other girls passed by her as she stopped, glancing up at a portrait of a young King Zeus and Queen Beryl. 

Thalia stopped, coming to Annabeth’s side. “What’s up?” she asked. 

Annabeth didn’t respond, too busy staring up at the portrait. Beryl’s face looked familiar, not only from the images and videos Annabeth had grown up staring at, but also because of someone much more personal to her. The angles of her face; the point of her chin; the delicate lashes that famed her eyes, just slightly too round and spaced apart. Thalia Orthia was embedded in every inch of the late queen’s face. 

Annabeth’s breath caught in the center of her throat. “Look,” she said, more out of instinct rather than the actual admittance of words through her lips. 

Thalia cocked a brow. “What am I looking at?” 

Annabeth shook her head, one of her hands flailing out to grab Thalia’s shoulders. She yanked her so roughly beside the portrait that both Piper and Reyna turned back, concerned etched across their features. 

Piper gasped. Reyna’s jaw slackened. 

Thalia attempted to shove away from where Annabeth had positioned her, though one of Annabeth’s arms shot out to keep her where she was before she could get even an inch out of place. “Guys, what is it?” 

“No,” Reyna said with a deft shake of her head. “It can’t be.” 

Thalia’s eyes narrowed. Like this they looked even more similar to Queen Beryl’s—angled at the edges, sloped downwards like a bird of prey selecting a target. “What can’t be?” 

Annabeth’s breath turned in her lungs. She grabbed Thalia’s arm, yanking her back to face the portrait. “Thalia, look.” She pointed out Beryl’s features, from her cheekbones to her eyes, but Thalia remained bewildered regardless. Annabeth shook her head, cutting straight to the point— “You have the exact same facial structure as Queen Beryl, practically. But your eyes—” This time, it was King Zeus she compared her to. “They’re electric blue. Exactly the same color. Pretty much exactly the same as Jason’s—”  

Thalia shrugged Annabeth off of her, rubbing at the spot on her arm that she had gripped. “Annabeth, you’re freaking me out.”

“Your hair,” Annabeth repeated impatiently. “It’s naturally blond, right? And I’d bet it’s close to Jason’s hair color. Same undertone and everything. Just like Queen Beryl’s.”

Thalia shook her head. “I mean, yeah, they’re pretty similar, but—”

Annabeth didn’t let Thalia say one thing more. “Thalia,” she interrupted, as serious as she’d ever been, “I think you’re Princess Aglaia. I think you’re the lost princess.” 

For obvious reasons, the rest of the night did not go kindly. 

Thalia refused to dwell upon the subject, even as the four girls milled about Jason’s lounge playing board games and chatting about menial topics, which led to a rather awkward affair of each pretending that the conversation in the hallway had never happened. Annabeth herself felt on the verge of insane as she compared Thalia and pictures of the royal family. The evidence seemed to stack up: from the day Princess Aglaia had been lost and Thalia found; the hair Thalia dyed black; the appearances; the habits Thalia had informed Annabeth about that Princess Aglaia had herself employed before her “death”. 

The majority of the trouble Thalia being Princess Aglaia gave, though, was the fact that she had a legitimate claim to the throne. This was, as Annabeth suspected, the main reason Thalia attempted to deny Annabeth’s suppositions— Jason was to inherit the crown, and Thalia wanted no part in ruining his future. 

Winter break came before Annabeth could dwell too much on the topic, though. She ended up back in her room at the Chase manor before the day was through, stuck to staring at a computer screen with interviews of Queen Beryl and baby Aglaia pulled up by the dozen. The hour was long, nighttime clad over the sky, and Annabeth was curled up on her bed, the warmth from her laptop seeping heat into the nest of her thighs. 

A thunk resounded throughout the room. Annabeth looked up, eyes bleary, and saw a blur of gray at her window seconds before another thunk filled the room. 

Annabeth got up, crossing to the window in time to see a third rock hit the pane in front of her face. She moved to open it, sticking her head out of the frame. Cold air poured into the room, pecking goosebumps across the skin of her shoulders and a breeze rippling through her hair. 

Two stories below, between the rose bushes and the shrubs surrounding the green of Annabeth’s house, stood Percy. He’d somehow gotten past the main gate—-there didn’t seem to be any paparazzi cars out so late at night, thankfully—and stood, quite noticeably, in the center of the green. 

Annabeth leaned farther out the window, as if she needed to ensure that her eyes weren’t failing her. “Percy?” she hollered. “I thought you were in Atlantis!” 

“We’re flying back tomorrow!” Percy yelled back. “Can you toss me a rope or something?” 

Laughter danced along the frame of Annabeth’s lips. “I don’t have a rope in my bedroom.” 

She was about to offer to meet him at the back door, but before she could, Percy started towards the side of the building, hefting himself up with the grip of his arms. Annabeth gaped at him as he traveled upwards, eventually matching Annabeth’s level and tumbling in through her window with the aid of her hands. “What the hell are you doing here?” 

Percy sprang up from the floor, running a hand through his hair. He brushed invisible debris off of the thighs of his jeans. “Missed you,” he said with a grin. 

Annabeth stared at him. “You’re such a dork. Does Quintus know that you’re here?” 

“Uh… no?” Percy grabbed the seat of Annabeth’s chair, plopping down onto it. “We didn’t get to talk earlier.” 

Annabeth’s mood quieted. “We talked. What was I supposed to say?” 

“Look, I didn’t know about it either. They just told me today they’re going to get my… fiancée to go to university with me. It doesn’t change anything.” 

“It makes it all the more real,” Annabeth argued. Percy sighed. “We can’t hide from it forever, Percy.” 

“Can we hide from it for a few hours?” Percy spun around in Annabeth’s chair, his forearms propping up across its back. “I don’t want to talk about this every single time.” 

Annabeth’s lips flattened. “Sure,” she said finally. “Do you want to hear about my recent, potentially government-toppling discovery?”

Percy quirked a brow. “Okay.”

”Promise not to tell anyone,” Annabeth said, although that was already something she trusted with him. Percy shrugged, and Annabeth reached over to grab her laptop from the bed. She opened up the image of Beryl and baby Aglaia she’d found earlier, pulling it up beside one of her, Reyna, and Thalia. “Look.” 

Percy leaned close to the screen. “Hey, Thalia kinda looks like…” 

Annabeth didn’t say anything. She just tilted her head at him, waiting as she watched the gears turn in his mind. Percy’s eyes practically bugged open as he put two-and-two together. 

“No way.”

”That’s what Thalia said, too,” Annabeth said, taking back her laptop. “But everything stacks up. I’ve been looking through interviews and clips, and even the smallest of habits Queen Beryl mentioned when Aglaia was just born matches. And come on—Thalia was found the same day Aglaia went missing. It doesn’t take a genius to piece it all together.”

”But a genius did,” Percy breathed, and a soft pink glow touched Annabeth’s face. “This changes… a lot for New Rome. I mean, if Thalia wants the throne—then Jason wouldn’t have to—and you and I both know he doesn’t particularly like his future as a monarch.”

Annabeth shrugged. “I’m trying to get Thalia to find more concrete proof from her women’s home. Right now it’s conjecture. She hasn’t even told Jason yet.” 

“So who knows?”

”You, me, Piper, Reyna, Thalia,” Annabeth replied. 

Percy nodded. For a long minute, Annabeth thought he was out of things to say, but an utterance left his lips light as a feather: “If you were Princess Aglaia, we might be able to get married.” 

“Oh, come on,” Annabeth scoffed, a jolt of pique harsh on her tongue. “No. I’d be running the country and you’d be running yours.”

”It’s basically what New Rome wanted to do with Themiscyra,” Percy pointed out. “Jason could rule, and—”

”Why are we discussing this? I’m not Princess Aglaia. And we won’t be able to get married.” Annabeth stood up, slamming her laptop shut and sweeping past where Percy was situated on her chair to set it down on her desk. “Ever.” 

Percy startled, chin lifting to meet her eye. Annabeth averted her gaze. “Wise Girl,” he said, and Annabeth sniffed, turning back towards her bed and rearranging the duvet that’d become crumpled when she’d laid atop it, mostly as busy work rather than anything else. “Do you even want to get married to me?”

Annabeth barely managed to suppress her flinch. Her palm smoothed across the duvet cover she was straightening. ”What kind of question is that?” Her voice was shrill. “We can’t—”

“Take it as a hypothetical,” Percy interrupted. “Rules and regulations and citizenship aside. Would you want to marry me?” 

Annabeth decidedly did not look up. Her hands went to straighten the comforter next, and then started to fluff her pillows. “I’m dating you, aren’t I? I’m in love with you—“ 

“That’s not what I’m asking.”

Annabeth huffed out a long breath. “Percy, I can’t get married to you.”

Percy’s words were very, very slow as they left his mouth. He emphasized each to a degree that made Annabeth cringe. “That was not my question.” 

Annabeth would usually consider herself a woman of eloquence. She had years and years of private tutoring lessons under her belt; hours of greeting practice and debates with her teachers in order to put her words in the most effective ways possible. She turned around slowly, intending to use such skill to her advantage—to shut down the conversation or at least make herself less apprehensive than she actually was. 

All of this knowledge seemed to evaporate, though, when Percy looked at her. His seafoam eyes bled into hers. All of her walls crumbled at the earnest look in his irises; for a moment, she was suspended midair, wondering why she’d even bothered trying to combat the power he had over her. She felt her throat constricting—she was entirely helpless.

Her sentence came out choked and strangled. “You’re the crown prince.”  

Despite not being much of an explanation, understanding crept into Percy’s eyes regardless. He settled back into his chair, like he was trying to control an uncomfortable spasm of a muscle or adjust an unfortunate wardrobe malfunction seriously inhibiting his comfort. “So that’s it,” he said evenly. “You don’t want to be queen.”

”It has nothing to do with—”

”Hypothetically, if you had the chance to marry me,” Percy interrupted. “You wouldn’t. You wouldn’t want the responsibility?”

It was a slap to the face. “I am fairly and finely responsible. I would simply not choose it as a way of life,” Annabeth hissed. Already Percy looked apologetic; Annabeth couldn’t stay mad at him for very much longer. “I love you, I just don’t love—what comes with it. The—rules, and the expectations, and—doing things being an appropriate aristocrat, and—” She shook her head. “Why would I want to be tied down to what’s separating you and me in the first place?” 

“You can’t just pick and choose what part of me you lo—”

“I can, actually, because we can’t get married!” Annabeth’s voice came out stronger than she’d expected, and she stopped, feeling the resounding holler pounding at her chest. It was like she’d expelled not only the words from her body, but her lungs and throat and tongue too, and she hadn’t noticed until echoes bounced around the gap left underneath her rib cage. 

The chair’s wheels scratched against the floor as Percy stood up. His lips were stuck in a flattened line. “Okay,” he said—nothing else.

It seemed too late for an apology, but Annabeth gave one anyway. “I’m sorry.” 

“No, you shouldn’t be. You’re right.” Percy cleared his throat. “We can’t get married. My dad won’t allow it, and you don’t want the role besides. It’s fine.” 

“You’re mad.”

“I’m not mad, I’m just upset that this is my life.” 

“It’s not the worst thing, comparatively.”

“That’s the issue, though. I have nothing to compare it to.” Percy shook his head. “I should get back to the embassy before they realize I’m gone. Quintus might have noticed by now.” 

“I don’t want you to leave mad at me.”

”I’m not mad at you.” Annabeth gave Percy a look, and he sighed, relenting. “Fine. I’m a little bit mad at you. There’s not really anything we can do about it, though.” 

Annabeth crossed the room, taking Percy’s hand in hers. “I’m sorry,” she repeated, but Percy just shrugged. It was, at least, not a shrug of indifference, or hidden annoyance—rather, it was one of reluctant agreement. The acknowledgement was there, along with a passive acceptance of Annabeth’s apology, but along with it came the understanding that nothing could come from it. 

Annabeth kissed him then. It was not a particularly passionate kiss; it could barely be counted as one, just a caress of flesh against flesh and warmth. And then Percy peeled away. “Out the window I go.”

“Please don’t get mugged on your way back to the embassy.” 

“I was trained with the Atlantian military throughout high school,” Percy scoffed. “I’ll be fine.” 

Annabeth craned her neck down as he descended the side of the Chase house, feeling a little bit like she’d lost a part of herself with the shadow that snuck out of the grounds gates. There was nothing she could do about it, though, so she closed the window and went to bed. 

Annabeth, 

Winter break is shaping up to be extrodinairly boring. My mom has taken it upon herself—HERSELF, not our servants or anything—to decoatret for the holidays. I don’t think “ocean kingdom” and “Christmas” go very well together personally, but my mom does not agree. She covered the ceermonail trident fountain in front of the palace with sparkly garlands and string lights. Aditdionally, there is also a tree topper on the middle point. 

I’m sending a present along with this letter. They are textbooks. Thank you for being easy to shop for.

Yours,

Percy 

Percy, 

We’re complete opposites. Neither of my parents seem particularly interested in decorating for the holidays. It’s a bit dull, though I admit I don’t have any holiday fervor compelling me to get into the mood for the season, so maybe I contribute to the problem. 

I’ve mostly been studying, so thank you for the textbooks. Attached is my present as well. You’re not easy to shop for but I at least hope you like it. 

Also, although I’m not much for sentimentalities, Piper and I were shopping for (her! Not mine!) last-minute Christmas presents—she’s extraordinarily unorganized and I also had to convince her to get something for Jason (seriously you’d think they hate each other when that’s exactly the opposite). Anyway, I spotted some jewelry in one boutique. Well, pendants. They’re matching. I don’t think anyone will notice so I figure it’s safe. 

Love, 

Annabeth

Annabeth, 

I like the pendant! I put it on a rope necklace. My mom looked at it and she asked why I didn’t put it on a “proper chain” but otherwise none the wiser. Thanks for the presnets. 

Additionally I dislike the fact that we can only pick things that are safe.

Maybe I’m being bitter.

Yours,

Percy

Percy,

You’re not being bitter.

I wanted to say this earlier but I’ve given myself the break to think about it.

I’m sorry about the marriage thing. I’m still not entirely sure that—if given the chance—I would want to marry you, mostly because of the queen and royal duties thing that would come with it. But you were right when you said it was unfair for me to pick and choose. 

So I guess this is me saying I would—not marry you, but try anything once just to be with you.

Not that it really changes anything.

Love,

Annabeth

Annabeth,

It doesn’t change anything, I guess, but it does.

Yours,

Percy

The spring semester came as a general bore. Annabeth’s life did not center around her studies for once—but it didn’t really center around herself at all. Rather, she focused on getting proof of Thalia being Aglaia; attempting to repair the argument that had split Jason and Thalia regarding those exact circumstances; and fastidiously pretending that graduation and, consequently, Percy’s consort ball was not in fact nearing with each passing day. 

The admission Annabeth had made over the letters seemed to bring up Percy’s mood, at least. The instant he’d come back from Atlantis, he’d found her, spun her around, and kissed her straight on the mouth in the company of both Quintus and Piper. Both had promptly averted their gazes. Annabeth had laughed. It had all gone over well. 

Things now were not going over well. Thalia’s claim to the throne hinged on a supposedly magical crown; Percy’s consort ball was, horrifyingly, in the development stages; Regent Hera seemed to have caught onto the Thalia-Aglaia conspiracy; and worst of all, Annabeth was cramming for finals. 

“It can’t be that bad, comparatively,” Percy pointed out. “At least you only have one mock tea party and a bunch of exams. Finishers, on the other hand—”

“Today is not the day to play comparison,” Annabeth interrupted, emitting scattered laughter throughout her group of friends. They were all crowded around one of the tables in the ladies’ lounge, having been kicked from the library due to Connor and Piper’s inability to speak in a hushed tone. “I feel like I’m going to fail.”

“You’re absolutely not going to fail. The person we should be worrying about is Thalia.”

“Oh, yeah.” Jason glanced up. “How are you supposed to take my throne if you don’t even pass Manners?”

“Oh, shut up,” Thalia scoffed. “I’ll be fine. Probably.”

Annabeth hummed under her breath. “So is me or Piper going to be your Lady Royal attendant when you assume the throne?” 

“Annabeth,” Piper said before Thalia could reply. “I don’t want that responsibility. I’ll wash your hair. But don’t make me governess.” 

Thalia cackled. “You’ll wash my hair? Gee, Piper, thanks.” 

“Hey, someone has to do it,” Piper pointed out. 

“Has anyone ever thought about the fact that we don’t have confirmation yet?” Percy interjected. The expressions he was met with were nothing short of unimpressed. “Okay. Fair enough. Uh, and do we have a plan about putting Thalia on the throne? Eventually?” 

Jason was the one to respond. “We’re getting to that after graduation,” he said. “We’ll have time over the summer. That also means Reyna and Percy won’t be around, though—”

“Are you kidding me? I am not going back home for the summer,” Reyna scoffed. “I’m staying here. I’m looking for a patroness to take me in, but worst comes to worst I can just stay at the embassy. Speaking of, Annabeth… your mom?”

Annabeth shook her head. “She can’t work as a patroness. Government Council, remember? And since she’s a commoner she doesn’t technically qualify.” 

Reyna made a face. “Okay, whatever. I’ll find someone.”

“My mom,” Piper offered. “She’ll probably try to match you up with some suitors while you’re here, though; that’s kind of her thing.”

Reyna cringed. “That’s worse. I’ll just stay at the embassy.” 

“And your parents are… okay with that?” Percy was the one who interjected now, his words carefully slow. “Don’t you have duties at home? I’d like to stay here for the summer too, but I doubt it’ll go over very well.” 

Annabeth glanced over at him, not bothering to make her look furtive. Percy wasn’t paying attention besides: he was looking at Reyna, salad fork suspended midair over his lunch tray. “You forget I’m not the crown princess,” Reyna pointed out. “So no, they don’t really mind what I’m up to. I’m sure you can make some excuse up to stay over here.”

Percy shook his head. “I seriously doubt it.” 

Annabeth wasn’t given much more room to worry about it. Her finals were over the next few days, and every hour passed with her feeling like she was ready to drop dead. Only a day after her last exam, after a two-hour trip to the spa, her tablet buzzed with a message from Reyna. 

She rubbed her eyes as the message popped up onto her screen. She and Percy were in her dorm, suffering in silence as he told her the updates of his consort ball. They’d already found a venue—a glass, beachside ballroom in Atlantis—and were in the midst of making a guest list. Percy was due to have fittings for his suit once he flew back to Atlantis for the summer.

“What is it?” Percy asked. Annabeth shook her head, clicking on Reyna’s text. If she was correct, Reyna and Thalia were supposed to be in the middle of their tea party final for Manners, Etiquette, and Makeover. Sure enough, Reyna’s message contained such information: just finished with our final went fine HERA TRIED TO SABOTAGE THALIA. 

Annabeth’s eyebrows rocketed straight up to her hairline. She texted back: What? but no response came.

“Babe?” Percy asked. Annabeth shook her head, wordless.

“Um. Something about Thalia,” she said, distracted. “I’m sorry, we should be focusing on the… consort thing.”

“I don’t care to focus on it.” Annabeth glanced up, meeting Percy’s eyes. “What’s Reyna saying?”

“Thalia’s final. Sabotage. Something.” Annabeth clicked at her screen again, as if tapping would make another message come through. She got no response. 

“Um,” Percy started, but he didn’t question further. After a stilted moment of, still, no response, Annabeth got up, shoving on a pair of shoes and hurrying out of the dorms. They should be on their way from the venue back to the school by now—maybe she could meet them out front. 

“Come on,” she said. “We should see if they’re on their way back.” 

Annabeth checked her tablet again upon reaching the main stairs of the school building. Reyna had given her a short explanation to parse: we were at our exam and thalia was saying stuff. Hera seemed to get suspicious (probably about!!!! her being aglaia!!!). ANYWAY THALIA ALMOST FAILED THE FINAL BECAUSE OF HER. 

 Before Annabeth could properly put together her thoughts, the limo carrying Thalia and Reyna screeched to a stop in front of the school. Thalia came stumbling out, shoved by Reyna behind her. Both of them had frosting and food covering their clothes in smears. Thalia didn’t seem to blink at it; Reyna was tugging at her top with a curled lip and a grimace. 

“How important is this?” Thalia asked Annabeth breathlessly. Annabeth crossed her arms, shaking her head. 

“It’s kind of incriminating, Thalia. I don’t know.” She glanced around, ensuring nobody was around to listen, even by chance. “We should find Jason and talk about it with him. If she’s really trying to sabotage you, that means she’s caught on, and she doesn’t like it. You don’t exactly want the current ruler of the country on your bad side, if you know what I mean.”

Percy leaned forward. “What’s this about again? My mom? Because she texted me—she doesn’t mind the whole table incident.”

“You’re cute. It’s not. What’s the table incident?” Annabeth asked.

“The sabotage she did. Never mind; we need to sit down as a group and discuss this further,” Reyna said with a shake of her head. “I’ll meet you guys at the lounge after you find Jason? I need to get this frosting off of my dress before it stains.” 

Reyna hurried off. Annabeth glanced over at Thalia, gesturing for her and Percy to follow her. “Are you okay? Did the madames take it okay?” 

Thalia squirmed. “I think so. Madam Euterpe said something about me handling it fine, so if it really was sabotage, it didn’t work as well as Hera probably wanted it to.” 

“So the sabotage—” Percy cut in.

Thalia sighed. “Hera got up to leave, tucked the tablecloth in my pants, and when I got up, it kind of… spilled everything over everyone.” 

“And she did this because you’re Princess Aglaia?” Percy asked.

“Yeah. Seems like she’s caught on.” Thalia shook her head. “This is too much to deal with. Graduation’s literally a day away.”

“Hey, we’ll figure it out,” Annabeth promised. Right now, Thalia being the heir to the throne—a previously dead princess—seemed a far easier task to tackle than her boyfriend’s incoming consort ball and engagement. If there was something she wanted to use to take her attention off of the battles she couldn’t win, Thalia’s dilemma certainly was it. 

Annabeth, 

I hope you find this later, while you and Thalia are off reterievign whatever magical crown to prove her birth or wahtever. I just wanted to say good luck. I hope you don’t get arrested. If you do, they’ll find this note and I’ll be implicated for the crime of breaking into the palace vault. I’ll be deposed (or we’ll go to war. Hopefully the previous) and maybe then we could get married (no strings attached).

This feels like an ill timed thing to do but I wnatded to give you something when you come back. Probably not the best idea either. But come see me afterwards. 

Yours,

Percy

Somehow, graduation came and passed. Somehow, Thalia managed to claim her right to the throne. It came somewhat as a disappointment to Annabeth. Now that one mystery was solved, she could no longer deny the truth: she was forced to face the fact of her and Percy’s break-up.

Her head buried into her pillow as dawn cracked sunlight in through her dormitory. Someone tugged at her bedsheets. Today was the official day everyone was going to get kicked out of the school, but Annabeth would rather stay in her bed than clean up and move out—something that her roommates apparently did not agree with.

“Get up, you moping moper,” Thalia said, yanking at Annabeth’s blankets once again. “We’ve got stuff to do.”

“Easy for you to say; you just earned the entire monarchy yesterday,” Reyna snorted, though she seemed no more supportive. “But Thalia’s right. Get up, Annabeth.” 

“I don’t want to.” 

“Temper tantrums don’t make you look hot. Up,” Thalia insisted. “We’ve got to clean everything up; get you moved back into your house; move Reyna into the embassy, and I’m…” 

Annabeth craned her neck upwards. “You’re…?”

“I’m moving into the palace.”

Annabeth’s jaw dropped. “No way.”

Thalia looked sheepish. She shrugged. Despite the fact that she was now crown princess, she really didn’t look all that different—her dark hair still stuck up in every direction, and her skin was still pale, covered in freckles, and adorned with dreadfully messy eyeliner. “Hera’s on my side now, but she said I need… rules. Lessons. Something. PR. And I’m scared, and I need you two and Piper with me, so get up.” 

Annabeth grumbled again, her face dropping into her pillow. “When’s Percy’s flight?” she mumbled into the pillow. 

Thalia and Reyna both let out synonymous groans. “Okay, stop it,” Reyna insisted. “No more pining over kings-to-be. You’re more than just Perseus Jackson’s under-the-table lover, for lack of a better word. You’re Lady Royal Annabeth Chase. You’re the daughter of a duke. You’re going to inherit a duchy, and you’re going to serve on the Government Council or as one of Thalia’s advisors. You’re way too smart for this.” 

“I am,” Annabeth agreed, melancholy. “The lows I’ve fallen to.” 

“Oh, shut up and get up,” Thalia snarked. This sentence was accompanied by a tug of, not Annabeth’s blankets, but Annabeth herself. She tumbled out of her bed with a yelp as the warmth of Thalia’s hands gripped tight around her shoulders. One of Reyna’s dogs barked—Aurum, Annabeth thought—but Reyna shushed him. “You’re better than this.” 

Annabeth pushed Thalia off of her, rising to her feet with a groan. “Fine. You’re right. What’s on the agenda?” 

“First you change. Reyna brought us breakfast, so we eat while we pack. Then we can drop your stuff at your house; get Reyna’s attendants to drop her stuff at the embassy; and then head to the palace,” Thalia answered. 

Annabeth grabbed a comb to tug through her curls. “Okay. I need to see Percy too. He said he wanted to give me something.”

“Percy’s busy at his embassy, but yeah, yeah, you’ll get to see him later.” Thalia flung open the closet, tugging out some of Annabeth’s clothes to toss at her. “Change. I’m freaking out.”

“I can see that,” Annabeth mumbled, rising to her feet. She grabbed what Thalia had tossed at her and dragged herself into the closet to change. Before she closed the door, Reyna said, “I’ll make you some tea.”

The closet was still mostly full. Annabeth changed into a simple t-shirt and a pair of jeans to pack in, then went to the restroom to brush her teeth and do her skincare. Afterwards, feeling well refreshed, she tied her hair into a ponytail and went back out to the main dorm. Reyna passed her a cup of tea, and Annabeth blew on it, steam curling up from the cup. 

Thalia had dragged out suitcases to pack her things with. “Wanna do the closet first?” Reyna asked, and she nodded, so the three of them entered their closet together. They pulled clothing off of the racks, leaving the uniforms Reyna and Thalia would no longer need. With each of their clothes in respective piles on each bed, the three started to take items off of hangers, folding as music played to pack everything up. After that came the rest of their things: electronics, toiletries, and the like. 

Thalia clicked off her school-issued tablet and set it on her bedside with a sigh. “I’m going to miss that thing.”

Annabeth had finished her tea, the fruit Reyna had brought, and the granola bar as well. She tossed her paper cup into the trash. All three girls then had to change into clothes more befitting of their station: Annabeth swapped her jeans and t-shirt for a blouse and a long skirt; Reyna wore a button-down and a pair of slacks with a Themiscyra purple sweater. Thalia wore what she always did, though her clothing now was much less ratty than they’d been when Annabeth had first met her. “Next stop?”

“Your house. I can get an attendant to bring my stuff to the embassy.” Reyna grabbed a tote bag to keep with her. “I’ve called an extra embassy driver to get us there. And we need to grab Piper, too; she said she’d come with.” 

Together, the girls lugged their stuff out of the dorm, Thalia and Reyna bidding the room their last goodbyes. Annabeth looked upon it with a bit of sadness—she would have one last year of Royal Charm School, but it was to be without Thalia or Reyna. At least she’d be with Piper, who joined them at the mouth of the school, her hair braided and a supportive smile on her face. 

Annabeth only got a bit of time to drop her things off at her house, unable to even unpack before Thalia was checking her phone. It was buzzing so frequently the notifications seemed to be one extended one rather than numerous, and she ran a hand through her hair with a tired sigh. “It’s Hera,” she said. “She needs me at the palace, like, right now. Jason’s there already.” 

“Have you looked online?” Piper asked. “Because the media has been having a field day since graduation yesterday.” 

 “I’ve been trying to keep off of it.” Thalia shoved her phone away. “Okay, to the palace, I guess. Don’t you three dare leave me.”

“I have nothing else going on,” Reyna said mildly. “If I could, I’d work in your court as crown princess, but unfortunately I have to have some semblance of loyalty to my country.”

“You’re probably gonna end up marrying one of my cousins anyway.” Thalia made to leave the house, then paused. “Holy shit. Jason’s cousins are my cousins.” 

“She’s got brains, this one,” Reyna muttered. Thalia shoved her hard in the shoulder. 

The trip to the palace was short, but eventful. As they started to approach the main gates, Annabeth spotted dozens of reporters milling outside, cameras poised as if ready to fall upon anyone of repute they spotted around the premises. The windows of their car were tinted, so there was no point in ducking. Still, flashbulbs started going off as their car paused for the palace gates to open.

“Oh, jeez,” Thalia muttered. 

“You wanted this,” Reyna pointed out. 

Somehow, they managed to enter the palace without any notice, Hera meeting them at one of the side doors with Jason in tow. Her dark hair was pulled up into a bun. Her eyes cast over Reyna, Piper, and Annabeth, who were standing behind Thalia. 

“Are these the women you’ve chosen for your court?” Hera asked mildly. “Well, at least your choice in friends is better than your choice in clothing.” 

“Thanks,” Thalia said, not sounding the slightest bit earnest. “Hey, Jason.” 

Jason’s smile was wide but nervous. Hera didn’t spare him a glance, turnin around to start into the palace without another word of greeting. Her next sentence passed over her shoulder, casual but with clear intent that she expected to be paid full attention to. “I’ll send butlers out for your things. You’ll be staying in the princess’s quarters. We’ll be doing dress fittings for the next week, but we’re doing PR control before that.” Hera sighed. “Your tiara has been set in your room as well. Hopefully this time it doesn’t glow with magic and change your outfit.” 

“I don’t think it works like that,” Thalia said. Annabeth wasn’t sure as to why she was so determined to have brought her friends along—she sounded anything but meek. “Or else it would’ve been pretty inconvenient for my mom.” The last word fumbled off of her tongue —mom— like it was an oddity to say. Although Annabeth wanted to think it was only her who’d caught onto the hitch, she knew everyone in the room was too well-trained in the art of conversation to not. They all collectively ignored it in the customary manner polite company did. 

Hera led the group to a meeting room, where a few different people were scattered—Annabeth recognized Jason’s governess, Hestia, along with some officials from the Government Council and some of Hera’s other advisors. Thalia took a seat opposing hers at the table, and Annabeth fell dutifully in line at her side. 

“I want you to understand,” Hera said, “That in your crowning as princess and acceptance of the title as heir, you have forfeited your life as Thalia Orthia. You are Aglaia Grace now.” 

“I’m not going by Aglaia, if that’s what you’re suggesting,” Thalia scoffed. She looked barely in place, from a surface-level point of view. But Annabeth saw below surface-level. Thalia’s posture was perfect. Her chin tilted upwards, defiant. She commanded the room with an air that seemed impossible for her to have gotten through her mere year of training. “My name is Thalia.” 

“Fine; very well. At least that’s sensical. But we have to clean up your image. This—” she gestured vaguely at Thalia— “Is going to have to stop. You’ll be attending New Rome University in the fall. You will arrive on campus looking every bit the part.” 

Thalia’s arms crossed over her chest. “What do you mean by that?” 

“I mean no holes in your clothing and no badly-done eye makeup,” Hera snapped. “I suspect your year at Royal Charm School at least taught you that much.” Thalia nodded. It was terse, but still, she nodded—Annabeth knew she cleaned up well enough during the school year; her outfit choice this particular day was likely made intentionally just to get on Hera’s nerves. “Good. And we’ll have to dye back your hair.” 

That made Thalia start. “What?” 

“You’re Aglaia Grace now. Thalia Grace. You’ll have to look the part. We’ll grow out your hair and bleach it to your original blond,” Hera said, though her elucidation did not spark any new understanding in who the words were directed towards. 

“No.” 

Beside her, Piper’s head bowed. Jason winced. Reyna glanced over at Annabeth, as if wanting her to step in. Annabeth, though, kept her mouth shut and her eyes on Thalia. “No?” Hera repeated, after the dull murmur of whispers from the royal advisors had quieted. 

“No. I’m not changing my hair. I like it black. I’m not changing the way I dress. Even in royal circumstances, I want to be in pants, and I want to wear black and silver.”

“The royal colors—”

“Obviously I’m not saying to change our national colors. I’ll wear New Rome’s blue when I have to, but you’re not putting me in matching tweed skirt sets or dying my hair blond.”

“Your hair is naturally blond.”

“I have not had a thread of gold on my skull since I was twelve. I’m not about to start having it now. People aren’t going to riot to depose me just because my hair is a different color.” 

Hera huffed out a breath. “No, but they are going to riot if we put someone unworthy, untrained, and untalented on the throne. We have been having public outrage all over the net and in downtown since your little stunt yesterday. I have a press conference I need to get to in thirty minutes just to calm down the storm that you brewed.” 

Echoing silence followed her monologue. Hera ran her hands through her hair, then shook her head. “This is why I didn’t want this to happen,” she breathed. “You haven’t been properly trained. There are people who went to high school with you talking about how you used to skip class to do drugs.” 

“Not hard drugs. I only smoked weed, like, a handful of times. And there are literally kids of dukes in Royal Charm School that get wasted every weekend. I never even drank in high school,” Thalia flared. 

“ I don’t care . I care about your reputation . I care about the reputation of this country . And if we can’t clear this up and get the public on your side by the end of this summer, we’re going to have to bury all of this like it never happened and put Jason on the throne he doesn’t want.” Hera squeezed her eyes shut. “Fine. Your hair is a non-issue. But I will be personally training you over the summer. You are going to act so incredibly perfect that you blow everyone who came before you out of the water. I want you to play the part of a crown royal better than Jason did. Better than Beryl did. Better than my mother did. Do you understand me?” 

“Is there anything else we need to discuss?” 

“Are you intending to marry your boyfriend, or are we going to have to host a consort ball?” 

“Neither? I’m eighteen.” 

“You’re the future ruler of the country who needs a king consort,” Hera corrected. “Fine. Consort ball is out of the question for now. We’ll wait until after college to see if your relationship lasts that long. Couldn’t you have dated someone who was at least higher rank than a count?” 

Bemusedly, Thalia said, “I thought I was a commoner. A count’s son seemed high enough to me. Not that I was really focusing on adding a title in front of my name or anything.” 

Hera sighed, not for the first time and likely not for the last time. “Okay. I’ve already got a speech written for the press conference. You’re to do a DNA test just to confirm for the public. Let’s go from there.” With her words, the advisors came forward, murmuring under their breaths and starting to set up Thalia’s schedule for the impending weeks.

Thalia shot a glance in Annabeth’s direction. Under the table, Annabeth took her hand. She squeezed it once and murmured, “You’re doing just fine.” 

Annabeth returned to the Chase manor with a sigh unfurling from her mouth and tiredness lingering in her veins. The lights were off; nobody was home, heat trickling in through cracked-open windows from the mid-afternoon glow. Thalia had been swept off to a press conference and then lessons with Hera after that; she, Reyna, and Piper had all been given specific instruction from Hera to continue as they had been, be caught out in town with Thalia being perfectly poised, and to generally stay out of trouble.

Annabeth figured there wasn’t much trouble she could get into while unpacking her belongings. The Chase house was quiet given the time: there were a few paparazzi cars parked outside the front gate, but it was all stuff she was used to, and the cameras hoping to catch pictures through the wrought-iron never managed to develop something clear through the tree line anyway. She was kind of surprised they’d be here given all the drama surrounding Thalia’s parentage, but she supposed some news outlets liked to keep tabs on high lords and ladies whenever available. 

Annabeth started some music, unzipping her duffel and her suitcases to start ironing out clothes that’d gotten rumpled while in transit and hang them up in her closet. She unstocked her toiletries and set away her chargers; put her stationery all where it belonged; and set her folder of Percy’s letters into the filing holder she had atop her desk. 

She cracked it open after a second’s thought, pulling out his latest letter to her: written on scrapbook paper and folded up, without an envelope. I wanted to give you something when you come back. The two of them hadn’t gotten a chance to be alone. 

As if on cue, the ting of a rock hitting Annabeth’s window drowned within her music. She set down her folder, turning the volume of her record player down as another ting came. 

“Again?” she huffed, pushing her window open. 

Percy was grinning at her from below. “You know it.” 

“Come in through the door this time. Nobody’s home,” Annabeth said, so Percy shrugged and disappeared around the corner of the house. Annabeth leaned out of the window, one hand gripped against the top of the sill, to watch his figure disappear. After a moment, she hurried out of her room, rushing downstairs to get the door before Percy could knock.  

Percy’s hand was raised, fingers curled in a fist to thud his knuckles against the wood, when she opened the door. “Hi,” Annabeth blurted. “How’d you know I’d be home?”

“Jason texted me, said he and Thalia were in some boring one-on-one tutoring thing. I assumed.” 

“Back from the embassy?”

“Yeah.” Percy tugged at the throat of his sweatshirt. He wasn’t wearing his uniform any longer—he never would again. Rather, a navy sweatshirt and tan slacks occupied him. A black rope necklace with the pendant Annabeth had got him was his only accessory. “I’m leaving tomorrow.”

A pop of air burst forth from Annabeth’s mouth, not by intention of her own. “So soon?” she asked, breath wispy. Percy shrugged, not meeting her eyes. “Oh. Well.” 

Annabeth shifted. Vaguely, she realized that she hadn’t let Percy in: her hand was still on the door, and she was in the way, blocking him from entering. A slight breeze drifted into the house. Hastily, she stepped to the side, bowing her head. “Oh, sorry. Come in. I was cleaning my room.” 

Percy nodded, following her inside and allowing Annabeth to shut the door behind them. “Did you read my letter?” 

“Yeah, I found it yesterday. What, um…”

Percy didn’t meet her eyes. “Let’s go upstairs.” 

Quietly, the two of them headed up to Annabeth’s room. Despite there being no one else in the building, Annabeth shut and locked her door anyway, just in case one of her parents got home early and opened the door only to see her and Percy alone. 

“The consort ball is in two weeks,” Percy said, dropping down into Annabeth’s desk chair. He glanced over her open folder, his fingers reaching out to brush against his own note. Without any word as to what he was doing, he folded it up and slipped it back inside. “My parents have already sent out invitations. They’re inviting, um, thirty candidates.”

Somehow, that seemed too much and too little of a selection. “Oh.”

“There are also other attendees. Reyna’s invited to represent Themyscira—something about allegiances—along with the usual dignitaries. Jason was invited too, but I think Piper might go to represent instead; he seems busy here.” Percy still wouldn’t meet Annabeth’s eye. “Um, venue’s picked; it’s this glass ballroom on the seaside.” 

“Do you know any of the attendees?”

Percy shook his head. “Mom asked me for my opinion on picking girls—she’s trying to be supportive, I guess—but I told her I didn’t care.” He hesitated. “I think she thinks something’s up.”

“Of course she does. She’s your mom.” Annabeth tried to find something to occupy her hands with, along with the rest of her mind. She went back to what she’d previously been doing: ironing out the last of her clothes so she could hang them up. The time she spent in the closet would be a good moment to steady her expression so Percy didn’t see her face, too, so she figured it was safe, turning her iron back on and grabbing a blouse from her luggage. “She probably just thinks it’s because you don’t want to get married, though.” 

“Yeah, she keeps giving me these pep talks about how it’s just an engagement and the marriage won’t be until after college.” Percy sucked on his top teeth, the sound resonating, too loud, around the room. Annabeth hadn’t switched her music back on, she realized; it seemed awkward to now. “So. About the—um.” 

Annabeth kept her gaze on the blouse she was ironing. “Yeah?” 

Percy didn’t say anything for so long that Annabeth was forced to look up. She clicked off her iron, setting it on its foot and glancing upwards to see what was taking him so long to answer. To her surprise, he’d moved: she’d been so windswept in her mind that she hadn’t even heard the rustles of his clothing or the creak of the chair as he’d gotten off of it. He stood, somewhat uncertain, in front of her. 

For the first time in a long time, Annabeth was reminded that Percy was just a boy. His shoulders were sloped downwards, not at all in the practiced posture all aristocracy had. His hair was mussed. Wearing such casual clothing, head unadorned by a crown, he looked straight off the street—someone Annabeth might see in a group of public high school kids, maybe. 

“Here.” Percy’s voice was very low as he raised his hand and shoved something in Annabeth’s direction. Annabeth’s gaze lowered. Nestled in the palm of Percy’s hand was a ring box: small, black, velvet. 

“Percy,” Annabeth said quietly. 

“It’s not what you think,” Percy promised. Still, it took a moment longer for Annabeth to gather the strength to pluck it out of his hand. Her fingers trembled as she opened it. Somehow, she’d hoped for a pair of earrings—a pendant to match her gift, or something similar—but all that lay inside was a brilliant platinum ring with a teal sapphire so gigantic it made the box look small. Tiny diamonds sparked in the setting beside it: one on each side. It didn’t need much decoration. The sapphire did most of the work.

Annabeth gaped down at it. “This is an engagement ring.”

“Okay,” Percy said soothingly. “Maybe it is what you think.” 

“Percy, I can’t wear this.” Annabeth felt on the verge of hysteria. Spots were blurring in her vision; phosphenes, like the sight in front of her was solid pressure straight to her eyelids. Her throat was getting tight; heat pricked across her arms and neck. 

“If you don’t want to,” Percy agreed, unfairly calm about the entire situation. “But I want you to have it.” 

Annabeth spared another glance at the ring, then looked away lest she pass out, or something else equally as mortifying. She snapped the box shut with a deft curl of her palm and dropped it on her ironing board like it’d burned her. “Did you buy that?” 

“It’s one of my mom’s.”

“Oh my God, Percy, no. You just—took it?” Annabeth’s voice was beginning to thin, and the edges were curling, shrill. She tried desperately to flatten them. 

Percy was decidedly argumentative. “She gave me a whole box of them, actually. She told me to pick my favorite to use at the ball. That one was my favorite. You should have it. I’m using a different one for my…” Somehow, even with his voice firm and persuasive, he still couldn’t say the word fiancée. “She won’t notice.” 

“She absolutely will.”

“Please just take it. I know we won’t—that we can’t—I’ve accepted it, Annabeth, but at least take it.” Percy’s voice was more emphatic now. Annabeth risked a glance upwards. The sea-green of his eyes gleamed only a few shades away from the teal of the ring’s sapphire. If Annabeth really looked at the ring, she was certain she’d see him reflecting back at her. 

“What is that, like, four carats?” 

“Five.”

“Oh my God.” 

“Annabeth,” Percy repeated. It sounded as if he was trying to temper the tremble in his voice. Annabeth stared down at the ring a final time, then glanced away. 

“Well, I can’t put it on my finger,” she said. “It’ll be too obvious. It’ll just have to stay in my jewelry box.”

An expression of relief had broken over Percy’s brow. “I don’t care as long as you take it,” he murmured. This time, as he extended his hand for Annabeth’s, she took it. The ring cut into her palm—not sharp enough to break flesh—as his hand curled around hers. “Put it on as a bracelet charm. Wear it on your necklace. I don’t care. I just want you to have it.” 

“You’re really leaving,” Annabeth said quietly. 

“Yeah.” 

The lack of music, once again, permeated the room. Percy’s hand unfurled around Annabeth’s, and she tucked the ring back into its box, slipping it onto the desk behind him. Slowly, tenderly, Annabeth met his mouth with hers—there was something wistful about this kiss, sentimental, knowing it was the last they’d have. 

Annabeth, 

I have spent the last week at the venue. It’s really nice, I have to admit but I am still very grupmy throgh it all. My mom is noiticgin I think, but she still thinks it’s because I don’t want to get married. My dad has not been paying the same attention. 

I’ve met most of the invited consorts. Mom had a few of them over. It was pretty uncoformtable all around. 

Are we officially broken up now? Should we not send letters anymore? 

Yours, 

Percy 

Percy, 

That’s okay. Here’s been somewhat hectic. Mostly cleaning up the media circus around Thalia. She’s been taking new classes. Hera’s been training me and Piper for her court duties as well. Things will probably calm down by next week. 

I don’t know. 

Love, 

Annabeth 

Annabeth was in one of the palace meeting rooms, pooling over documents with Piper, when Jason stuck his head into the open doorway. Piper immediately froze up. Annabeth only gave him a passing glance. She assumed that it wasn’t her he was looking for—at least until he uttered her name. 

“Is there anyone else in here?” Jason glanced around, then slipped into the room. “What are you guys up to?” 

“Documents about conduct and what we’re supposed to do as the queen’s attendants. I can’t believe we scored palace jobs just because we’re friends with Thalia,” Piper said. 

Annabeth interjected: “What’s going on?” 

“Uh, I…” Jason glanced over his shoulder. “Percy’s—his consort ball is this weekend.” 

Annabeth stiffened. “I know.” 

“Well…” Jason looked somewhat uncertain. “I RSVP’d yes for New Rome. But, uh, I was thinking you could go.” 

For one long moment, all of Annabeth’s senses dulled. She couldn’t hear anything; her vision went blurry; her throat closed up. “What?” 

Piper and Jason exchanged a glance, which was when Annabeth knew this was serious, because the two of them hadn’t had a proper conversation since The Incident the year previous. “To represent New Rome,” Piper inputted slowly, as if Annabeth would’ve missed that part.  

“Why would I—”

“Well, it’ll either be me or Piper, usually,” Jason said. He shrugged, meek. “But—Thalia needs me here. And it’s only a night; you’ll be staying in the embassy. If you don’t want to go, though…”

Annabeth fidgeted, arranging and rearranging the papers in front of her. “I don’t know.”

“Think about it?” Jason offered, his hands drumming across the table. “Send me a text and I’ll give you all the flight information.” 

“I don’t know if she wants to watch Percy…” Piper trailed off. She was looking at Annabeth very intently. “You know. Pick his future wife and co-ruler and everything.” 

Annabeth cringed. Piper and Jason exchanged another look—maybe she should indulge in emotional turmoil more often; it’d at least get the two to start talking to each other. “I don’t know.” 

“You could at least get some closure,” Jason offered, though the goodbye the two had had at Annabeth’s house before Percy had left had seemed fine enough for Annabeth. But nothing was ever fine enough, was it? Even after that, the pair still texted every day. Annabeth had received and sent another letter. The folder in her bedroom only widened in girth. 

Seeing him pick another woman—that would be a real ending. And besides, Annabeth knew how hard the event would be for Percy. Maybe her being there would alleviate some of his stresses.

Or make them worse.

“I don’t know,” Annabeth said finally, disappointed in her own lack of response. Neither Piper nor Jason looked remotely offended, though. They both nodded. Jason cast her a sympathetic gaze; Piper squeezed Annabeth’s hand from where it was still holding a pen, poised above her forms. “I’ll get an answer to you by tomorrow. My parents should be fine with it, so…” 

Jason nodded. Without any further conversation, he left the meeting room. 

Annabeth was halfway through her dinner—solitary, given her father was out at one of the duke’s houses for game night and her mother was working late—when the doorbell rang. She clicked on the hallway light, still carrying her bowl of pasta in one hand, as she went for the door, nudging it open and hoping it wasn’t anyone official given she was dressed in Percy’s sweatshirt and owl pajama pants. To her surprise, though, when she opened the door, she found none other than her best friends standing outside it. 

Piper had a duffel bag slung over her shoulder, her hair plaited back into two Dutch braids. Reyna was carrying a similar bag and had dressed down into a t-shirt and jeans. Thalia looked tired, her eyes rung with crescents nearly as dark as her hair, but she was sporting her usual distressed punk clothing rather than the stuff Hera put her in. 

Behind the three of them, a few yards away, were various security details along with two giant armored cars beyond the front gate. Piper had been given the code for it long ago—as had Percy. Assumedly, that was how they’d been able to get in. 

Annabeth softened. “What are you three doing here?” 

“Piper told us about the ball invite. We figured we could talk you up to it. And have a slumber party,” Reyna said. “Except none of us want to call it a slumber party, because it sounds lame.”

”I, for one, am totally up for calling it a slumber party,” Thalia volunteered. “And I never thought I’d say this, but I wish I was back at school so I could have three hours of uninterrupted Spa Time.” 

Annabeth snorted. “How the times have changed. Okay, come in, but we’re not getting mushy.”

The three filed in, closing the door behind them and heading into the kitchen so Annabeth could finish her dinner. She set her dishes away in the sink, and the four of them set up in her bedroom, Annabeth yanking out spare air mattresses to make space—technically the Chases had five guest bedrooms, but they unanimously agreed to sleep in the same room to keep the attitude of a slumber party. 

Thalia was last in the bathroom as the other girls settled around the floor. Annabeth was in the midst of setting out snacks when Piper nudged her in the shoulder. “So… are you going?” 

“I don’t know,” Annabeth said finally. “I don’t want to break his heart like that. Or mine.” 

“I mean, have the two of you even stopped talking?” Reyna pointed out dubiously, picking a pretzel up from the bowl Annabeth had just filled. “I don’t want to push you to do anything you don’t want to do, but Annabeth, if you haven’t even had a proper let’s-not-talk-to-each-other-anymore conversation then you’ll just be keeping an emotional affair.”

“Little harsh?” Piper murmured. Reyna shrugged. 

A bit affronted, Annabeth said, “It’s not an affair.”

“Come Saturday, he’ll be engaged to someone else, so actually yes, it would be. I love you, Annabeth, and I really hoped that this relationship was going to work out for you, but it’s not. And you shouldn’t be pining over princes who have arranged courtships. And if going to the ball, saying goodbye, and watching him get engaged to someone else gives you the closure you need to follow that—so much the better.” 

“Really harsh,” Piper muttered. Again, Reyna shrugged. 

“Besides, I’ll be there,” Reyna pointed out. “You won’t be totally alone, so it won’t be as scary.” 

“I know that’s true, but I just…” Annabeth groaned. “I wanted to pretend it’s not happening, but that’s clearly not working, and I should’ve broken up with him at the start of school last year. I really should’ve.” 

Reyna sighed. “There’s no going back. At this point you have three options. Ghost him, have an affair, or break up with him—either in person or online—and stop talking to him.” She pointed her pretzel at Annabeth. “And let it be known that if you have an affair, the press will find out eventually, you will ruin the rest of your life, and New Rome and Atlantis might not be such good friends anymore, so maybe you’ll ruin their political states too.” 

The door to Annabeth’s bathroom opened, and Thalia stepped out, followed by a hefty billow of steam. She was adorned with a ratty, oversized t-shirt and athletic shorts. It was hard to believe she was New Rome’s future ruler. “We’re talking about affairs now?”

“The consequences attached to them.” Reyna popped the pretzel in her mouth with a shuddering crunch. “And you don’t have a lot of time, Annabeth, so pick.” 

Annabeth, hoping to give herself at least a few more minutes of deliberation, turned to Thalia. “Would you like to contribute your opinion on this issue, your royal highness?” she asked, a twinge of sarcasm laced in her words. Thalia rolled her eyes, settling down beside Piper. 

“I think you should just marry him. No matter how many times the rules are spelled out to me, it doesn’t make sense. You’re perfectly capable of becoming a queen consort, or even the queen. I don’t see how you being from New Rome changes anything. Marrying him will give you Atlantian citizenship. Besides, our countries do cross-cultural marriages all the time. I mean, I was literally engaged to a high lord of Themiscyra at the age of, like, one.” 

“That’s different; it was a treaty contingency,” Reyna murmured. 

“And it’s the way Atlantis does things,” Annabeth added, resignation seeping into her attitude. Frustration was already edging into her voice, even as she desperately attempted to keep it at bay. It didn’t feel real. None of it felt real, and she didn’t want it to. “Plus my whole… commoner stuff also gets in the way. My dad’s title was debated on being stripped away because he married my mom. They only let him get away with it because she worked on the Government Council. Even now my mom isn’t a duchess—she doesn’t have a title.” 

“Percy’s mom is literally a commoner.”

Altogether, Annabeth, Reyna, and Piper chorused, “That’s different.”

Thalia snorted. ”Smells like abuse of legislation powers to me. If Percy’s dad can turn a commoner into a queen, why can’t he? Doesn’t make sense.”

“That’s the first rule of the aristocracy,” Piper said matter-of-factly. “Things don’t make sense.” 

It was as if a collective sigh had fallen amongst the four of them. Reyna continued picking at the pretzels. Annabeth closed the bag of chips she’d laid out and set it away atop her desk. Thalia rifled through some of Annabeth’s files. Piper spread out on one of the mattresses, her body squirming as she tried to get comfortable.

“So,” Reyna said. “Are you going or not?”

Two of Thalia’s short, manicured nails—silver chrome, assumedly because Hera had declared black unfit for everyday use—had lapsed against the folder where Annabeth kept Percy’s letters. The shiny blue of the plastic winked at her. The pendant pressing against Annabeth’s throat soothed her heartbeat. Tucked in the bottom of her jewelry box, the teal engagement ring she’d been gifted shone, and it was also like the glinting of its stone escaped past the bounds of what was covering it. 

The answer had come to her the instant Jason had offered. 

“Yeah,” Annabeth said, and some part of her wished that she was able to resist Percy, at least in one universe. “I am.” 

Annabeth’s flight was not very long. Atlantis was an island kingdom, miles off the coast of New Rome, and only held an hour shift in time zone. She departed the evening before the event, arriving at the embassy well after midnight and falling asleep for the better part of the morning. Reyna attended with her, though she was staying in her own country’s embassy. 

Annabeth would not see Percy until the consort ball.

She also hadn’t informed him that she’d be coming. 

Being a guest and not a consort, the clothing Annabeth’s attendants had helped her pack was of the unappealing sort. It was high-necked, long-sleeved, and sheath in silhouette. The color was sky blue—New Rome’s official color—and she wore gold jewelry. Her hair was pulled up into a slicked-back bun, a tiara pressed at the throat of it. 

Annabeth’s pendant hid behind an arrangement of necklaces, blended in so well one couldn’t notice it might’ve not been selected for the outfit.

The ring was a different story.

Annabeth couldn’t very well wear five carats on her hand without attracting notice, especially not of a teal sapphire. She wasn’t entirely certain why she’d brought it at all. She never wanted to put it on—never wanted to pretend that she could be Percy’s, even just for a moment. But it had somehow wound into her carry-on, and now Annabeth was staring down at it nestled in its box with five minutes until she was to leave for the ball on the clock. 

Annabeth was not stupid. Accordingly, the not-stupid thing to do would be to shove the ring and its box back into her carry-on and forget about it until she was safely back in New Rome. 

The stupid thing to do would be to wear it. Annabeth’s two options were to string it onto a necklace and hope it went unnoticed by the majority of guests. The second option was to lace it into her tiara and pretend it was a centerpiece. Neither were brilliant, and Annabeth was too brilliant to accept anything less than, so she slipped the box into her carry-on and resigned to forget about it until she was safely back in New Rome. 

Halfway to the door Annabeth went back for the ring box and shoved it into the handbag she’d chosen for the event. 

Reyna met her outside the embassy with her own driver, having volunteered to bring Annabeth. The two of them rode to the venue in silence, neither fidgeting but rather suffering in the tension of Annabeth’s thoughts. There were a handful of other representatives attending with them—from both Themiscyra and New Rome—minor counts and government officials, but they’d taken a different car. Still, even with the privacy, Annabeth couldn’t bear to say a word of the situation. 

The consort ball was of the sort with much fanfare. A carpet was rolled out before the venue, photographers, paparazzi, and commoners alike clambering against the gates that’d been set up to glimpse the arrival of guests. 

“Come on,” Reyna said, as the sound of someone trying the door clicked. “It’ll be okay.” 

Annabeth ignored the cameras, veering straight for the open doors of the venue with Reyna on her arm. She teetered even only wearing kitten heels, the world swimming in front of her eyes. The walk to the door wasn’t a very long one, but it flickered across Annabeth’s mind in the span of a year. 

Reyna stopped her as they reached the door. There was a butler announcing the visitors there; Reyna consulted with him and, clearing his throat, he said, “Representing Themiscyra, Princess Reyna Avila Ramírez-Arellano and her attendants.” 

Reyna let go of Annabeth’s arm, sweeping into the room followed by the other dignitaries brought with her. The lights of the ballroom’s chandelier sparkled against the glass walls, the stained color shining rainbows across the room. Rushing water filled the ballroom, barely discernible beyond the chatter and the violin music; Annabeth figured they were coming in from the fountains behind her. She almost winced from all of the noise; she couldn’t see properly, and even without the spots in her vision, she was still disoriented. 

Before she was fully prepared for attention to turn to her rather than Reyna, the butler cleared his throat and announced her. “Representing New Rome, Lady Annabeth Chase.”

Annabeth stepped out onto the carpet that led into the venue. Reyna had stepped to the side by the entryway, waiting for her; her coat had already been checked. The attendants of the ballroom had glanced up to see her, although much of the chatter hadn’t dimmed down. Annabeth fixed her gaze forward, intent on not scouring the ballroom for a glimpse of Percy. She took Reyna’s arm when she offered it.

“Doing okay?” Reyna whispered.

“Just another event,” Annabeth murmured back. “I’m fine.” 

Annabeth had thirty minutes to calm down. Percy was, apparently, not in the crowd, and Annabeth was too busy mingling with the dignitaries of other countries to try and look for him. Reyna stayed by her side through most of it, ensuring she didn’t take any alcohol from offering butlers—there wasn’t much that was more embarrassing than being caught underage drinking at a royal event—and cutting in explaining that Annabeth was close to Jason and knew Percy through him, which was technically the truth. 

There was additionally an added circumstance wherein Annabeth and the rest of the New Rome dignitaries had to continuously explain and defend Thalia’s appearance and claim to the throne, which was starting to make her more irritated than disparaging, which was likely a better attitude to have considering the gist of the party. Regardless of which, Reyna had to pry her away from a Chronou representative who merely commented that New Rome would probably remove Thalia from the line of succession by the end of the summer lest she actually attack him.  

Finally, all of the guests had arrived. The doors by which all had entered were shut, leaving the crowd to speak with each other as Percy’s entrance started. Annabeth ducked her head towards Reyna: “Do you think I should try to speak to him?” 

“I don’t know,” Reyna whispered back. “He’ll probably have two hours before he picks someone. How do these traditionally work? My sister hasn’t had one yet.”

“He’ll get introduced, and then his thirty suitresses.” Annabeth squirmed. “There’ll be an orchestra, and then he’ll do dances. He’s supposed to dance with every suitress. Probably an hour to chat with everyone and weed out his or his family’s favorites. Then we’ll have a banquet for dinner and there might be some speeches.” 

“Lord.” Reyna’s free hand—the one not entwined with Annabeth’s—reached out to prop against her hip. “We’re going to be here forever.”

“Yeah.” 

Before any of the two could say another utterance, trumpets started to blare. The butler cleared his throne and announced, with no lack of illustration in his voice, “Now presenting his royal highness, the Crown Prince Perseus Jackson.” 

Annabeth ducked her head on instinct. Reyna said, “There is no way he’s going to see you in this big of a crowd. Calm down.” But as Reyna’s hand reached out to tilt Annabeth’s head back up, both of them fell silent. The cold stone feeling of a gaze falling across her pricked gooseflesh upon Annabeth’s skin. Her eyes lifted. Halfway down the stairway, Percy had stopped and had somehow found her amongst the crowd. His expression was indiscernible.

Annabeth’s skin flushed red. Percy kept moving before murmurs could break out across the room, but his steps strode a little less surely.

“Never mind, then,” Reyna muttered. 

Percy veered towards the side of the ballroom, sitting at the head of the feast table lining the far end of the venue with his parents to either side of him. Annabeth watched every flinch in his face, even as she was unable to piece out the subtle movements with the distance. Behind her, the butler had started to announce the suitresses, each name accompanied by the family they hailed from; title; and lineage. 

“This is sick,” Annabeth muttered. Reyna squeezed her hand, and Annabeth felt just a bit stronger. Her previously downcast eyes lifted, and she forced herself to watch each suitress as they were introduced, jotting down their names and titles. Looking at it logically was the easiest way for her to escape the grasp of her subjective mind. She analyzed family history as it was given to her; compared the way they entered to their personality and to what Percy might like more. 

Finally, the last girl was introduced, and Annabeth was allowed to look away. “You okay?” Reyna asked.

“I need to get some air,” Annabeth murmured. “Orchestra should give us twenty minutes or so before the dances. I’ll be outside.” 

“Okay.” Reyna let go of Annabeth’s hand, and she slipped away through the crowd, nudging towards the far wall of where she’d entered. As she suspected, there were a pair of doors leading out to the seafront, where the venue faced. She closed the doors behind her and turned around towards the colonnade veranda, her arms propping against the marble balustrade. The sun was starting to dip below the horizon, the view of the ocean and—miles and miles away—New Rome’s skyline reassuring her somewhat. Salty sea air pressed against the roof of her mouth.

“Annabeth.”

Annabeth spun around, the collision of the ballroom doors so loud it was as if she’d been struck. Percy’s sea-green eyes were dark and steely, the depths of the ocean enclosed within just one of his shiny irises. He was dressed in the finest ceremonial uniform Annabeth had ever seen him wear: sea-green, dripping with bronze medals and a long sash. 

“You should be inside,” she blurted.

“I didn’t know you’d be here.”

Annabeth turned towards the ocean again. “They’ll notice.” 

“I told my parents I was headed to the restroom. They won’t. I didn’t know you’d be here.” 

“Jason and Piper said I could go.” Annabeth shifted. “I thought—after this we can’t talk, Percy. No more letters. No more texting. We haven’t really been good at that.” 

Percy’s tone was dubious. Possibly a bit offended, though Annabeth tried to pretend it wasn’t. “You came here to tell me that?”

“I came here because I wanted to see you, but yeah, I guess.” As Annabeth glanced up to look at Percy, she saw his gaze was pointed at her throat. “Oh, I…” 

“Guess we shouldn’t wear those anymore either.” 

Annabeth swept a tendril of loose hair back behind her ear. “I’ll retire it.” Her eyes trailed across Percy’s clothing again, but she caught no similar pendant anywhere around his neck, so she slowly turned back towards the ocean. Something like disappointment clogged her lungs, though she wasn’t entirely certain why. Slowly, Percy’s arm came out to lean against the balustrade too, so they were both staring into the horizon. 

Softly, he said, “You look beautiful.”  

“Thanks.” 

“You don’t have…” 

“We shouldn’t be talking about that, Percy. It’s over with.” Still, Annabeth’s left hand reflexively curled into a fist; she wore no rings except for the Chase family seal on her thumb. “And you need to get back inside.” 

“Is this the last time we’ll talk to each other?” 

Annabeth didn’t want to say yes. Still, she titled her head up to meet Percy’s gaze. “Probably.”  

Behind them, the door to the ballroom creaked open. Both Annabeth and Percy turned, catching a glimpse of Reyna through the crack of the door. “The orchestra’s almost done,” she murmured, and Annabeth ducked away from Percy like she’d been caught red-handed. Percy straightened.

“Hey,” Percy said, as Annabeth moved hastily towards the door to join Reyna. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Annabeth whispered, smiling as much as she could back at him. She wanted it to be the last thing he heard from her—and she wanted it to be the last thing she said to him, too. 

Annabeth, 

Last letter. I promise. I’ll even block you. 

My parents picked my wife shortly after the ball, like a few days after? Her name is Rachel. I’ve met her a few times before; her family is one of the wealthiest in Atlantis so it makes sense analytically. 

Thank you for coming even though it broke your heart.

For the last time, I love you.

Yours, 

Percy

Annabeth decidedly did not respond to Percy’s letter. Her method of getting over a breakup was dictated by her friends: absolutely zero contact, burying her feelings in work, and having a once-a-week sleepover with her friends to complain about the state of their lives, the political system, or Annabeth’s inner turmoil. It all turned out rather well, at least for a few weeks. 

This all very quickly turned sour when Thalia plopped down into her meeting chambers, where Piper and Annabeth were in the midst of organizing an event for a nonprofit for Thalia to attend. “Got word from the Atlantian government,” she said bluntly. “Percy and his wife-to-be are spending two weeks in New Rome to hang out with us.”

Annabeth’s head shot up. “Why?” she demanded. 

“Beats me. Jason was going on about treaties and good relationships and consistent events for the good of peace between countries, but I translated it to the idea that kingdoms have to arrange hang-outs monthly to make sure we don’t secretly hate each other, or something. All very middle school.” 

“I feel like you should be taking this a bit more seriously than you actually are,” Piper said, though she didn’t seem personally offended by it. “Okay. So what’s happening with that?”

“Hera said, and I quote, “you, Jason, and your attendants are to entertain them during your stay”. So…”

Annabeth dropped her head to the table. “Of course.” 

“You could pretend to be sick. Send Reyna in your place,” Thalia offered. Both Annabeth and Piper scoffed.

“That’s not how this works. Piper doesn’t get to avoid Jason even though she wants to. No, I’m going to have to suffer through this.” 

“Yeah, well, you’re supposed to add them to my itinerary for the next few weeks.” Thalia pulled out a tablet—she’d recently purchased one herself after mourning the loss of her Royal Charm School-issued one—and swiped over to her calendar app. “So the nonprofit event… tea parties with the high ladies, she’ll come to that… Hera said maybe bring her along to my orphanage tour or whatever, but I think that’s a little personal, so maybe not that.” Thalia glanced up. “In other words, we play nice.”

“I’m sure she’s not horrible,” Piper pointed out. “Rachel, right? It’s not her fault she’s getting married to Percy.”

Annabeth flinched. Thalia shot Piper a dirty look. “Don’t say it that loud,” she hissed.

“Oh, come on. Annabeth’s more mentally stable than that.” Piper glanced in Annabeth’s direction. “You are, right?” 

Annabeth was unsure of whether her tone was humorous or desperate. Perhaps it was something in between. “I really, really hope so.”  

It was safe to say that the events called for an early girl’s night. Like clockwork, Reyna, Thalia, and Piper all showed up at Annabeth’s house, spending the night prepping for the eventuality of an explosion. “It’s not like Annabeth can’t attend any of these, either,” Reyna muttered, tapping through Thalia’s itinerary. “She’s quite literally your Lady Royal; it’d be odd to not have your closest female confidant with you. She can’t miss the luncheon or the tea party or any of the public events.” 

“Especially since the public adores Annabeth,” Piper agreed. “They wanted her to marry Jason for a while, you know—to be queen.” 

“Neither Jason nor I were interested,” Annabeth said hastily, as Thalia turned to gape at her. Sometimes it was easy to forget that Thalia hadn’t grown up around the aristocracy. Even as a commoner she hadn’t been interested in the latest tabloid gossip surrounding them, and therefore missed a lot of information of the past. “And the whole mom being a commoner thing got into the equation, and the Government Council decided it was too messy, so that ended fast. But yeah, I guess, for a bit they wanted me to be queen.”  

“So you can’t pretend to be sick.”

“We could actually get her sick,” Reyna suggested. “Toss her out in the rain overnight. Cold.” 

“I’m not a coward,” Annabeth protested, affronted. “And I also don’t want to spend the night outside in the rain. Off the table. I’ll just cope.” 

“Great strategy.” Annabeth couldn’t tell if Thalia was being sarcastic or not. “I don’t think anything is going to go wrong, then.” Definitely sarcastic. Annabeth sighed, burying her face in the pillow in her lap. 

“Have some faith,” she said, which wasn’t exactly a confident sentiment given she was mumbling her words into goose down. “I’ll be fine.” 

Annabeth was not fine. The itinerary of the next week was plotted out in her head like a class syllabus. The luncheon was first, attended by all of Thalia’s female friends, Jason, and the other male royals—Nico; the Stolls, given Connor’s tie to Thalia; and a few other high lords, like Malcolm and Grover. Percy and Rachel were to join them for a day out on the gardens and then later dinner, if so inclined. The day after covered the nonprofit event, followed by two other events and then Thalia’s tea party on Friday. The week after had a few other events, but Annabeth was trying to focus on the first week before she filled her brain with too much information and promptly exploded. 

It felt like the hundredth time when Piper said, “You’ll be fine.” The two of them, along with Connor, Jason, and Reyna, were crowded in the palace courtyard, all staring out at the fountain they were gathered around. Roses, violets, and other fragrant flowers marked the paths. There was a table set by one of the palace porches, already set up with dinnerware for their luncheon. “Was that helpful?” 

Connor assessed Annabeth. “Nope,” he reported back to Piper. To Annabeth, he said, “Travis and I could do something. I’m sure we could start a small fire somewhere in the hedges.”

“You could what?” Jason asked, before Travis could either affirm or deny Connor’s words. “No. No, there won’t be any distractions or arson happening. We’ve all had to force ourselves through awkward situations before.” 

“I feel like this would be a lot less awkward if the rest of us were not also aware of it,” Reyna muttered. “So maybe we should all assume Annabeth can operate on her own behalf and ignore the situation.” 

“All in favor?” Connor asked, raising his hand. Annabeth figured that was his way of making her feel better. It didn’t exactly work, but she just continued to stare at the water fountain in front of her, letting the smattering of the manmade falls drown out some of the anxiety turning in her stomach. 

“What’s going on here?” The sound of footsteps against the paved garden path and Thalia’s voice had Annabeth raising her head. “Why are you all grouped around the fountain like a bunch of depressed idiots?” 

“Hey,” Jason protested, then lit up upon seeing Percy hanging back behind Annabeth. “Perce! I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.” 

“It’s been a while,” Percy agreed. Annabeth kept her eyes on Reyna, who met her gaze with a sorry expression. “Oh, um, this is my… this is Rachel.”

Annabeth moved her gaze almost robotically towards the woman who stepped out from behind Thalia. Rachel was pale, an oddity given how much sun both Atlantis and New Rome got, her hair like licks of curling flames drifting all the way to her waist. She wore an eyelet sundress and a matching sunhat. Her smile was like a sunray. 

“Hey,” Jason said first, extending his hand to hers. “Nice to meet you.” 

“Likewise. What are we up to today?”

“Officially, we’re supposed to play croquet,” Thalia said with a languid sigh, gesturing towards where the garden green had been staked with croquet hoops, “But I did that once and it didn’t go over well. I had one of the attendants bring board games.” 

Jason looked weary. “You’re impossible. I’ll play croquet.”

Thalia shrugged. “Up to you guys, then. Board games with me or croquet with Jason.”

Annabeth stayed with Jason, which turned out to be the worse of the two ideas given Percy and Rachel also joined him. She picked up a croquet mallet, glancing over her shoulder towards the group at the table, but figured she couldn’t exactly change her mind now—and Annabeth had more pride than to flee at this point, too.

Reyna, who was generally uninterested in croquet and likely only joined Annabeth so as to rescue her from any awkward situations, also picked up a mallet of the same color as Annabeth’s. “Consider us as on the same team,” she said. 

Percy wasn’t looking in Annabeth’s direction.

A half-hour of awkward croquet later, everyone settled around the lunch table and readied for their meal as idle chatter filled the area. It was, at least, less forced than Thalia’s weekly tea parties were: most of the people here were friends, so it was easy to fall into the lull of chatter, almost like they’d returned to the lounge or cafeteria in Royal Charm School to complain about classes and interpersonal relationships.

“So what have you two been up to?” Jason led the conversation, as he often did during the events Thalia held, mostly because he was better trained for it. “Since the… engagement. A lot?” 

“Mostly just preparing for college. Private tutoring sessions. Sally’s been helpful; she’s been helping me with the consort duties I’ll have to take on,” Rachel answered. “If you ask me, it’s all kind of boring, though. I spend a lot of my time painting.” 

“Oh, wait, show me,” Piper said, leaning forward. “I tried to get into art a few times, but I’m just horrible at it. What do you usually do?”

“I’ve been doing a lot of expressionist and abstract stuff recently,” Rachel replied, pulling a phone out of her purse to show Piper. Annabeth picked up her teacup, letting the warmth of the porcelain bleed into her fingers. “Here, see?” 

Annabeth leaned over to look at the images she’d pulled up: pictures of canvases in a sweeping art room, each made with similar color palettes, the line and arcs so foggy it was hard to discern what exactly it was she was trying to depict unless you looked at it a certain angle. Each was beautiful. Annabeth sipped her tea, trying to burn away the sourness curdling her throat. 

“Do you sell your pieces?” Piper asked. “I’d totally love one of these in my foyer. Which sounds stupid when I say it, but—”

”Oh, you can have one. I would sell them, but my dad said… well, now I just have way too many pieces stacked up around everywhere.” 

“Ah, the age-old excuse,” Piper said. “Not befitting of your station.” 

Rachel shrugged. “It happens.”

The table lapsed back into silence. It wasn’t long until Jason was standing again, challenging Travis to a round of cornhole. Annabeth stayed at the table as everyone slowly started to rise and head off, Connor dragging Thalia to croquet and Piper and Reyna following. Percy and some of the other lords went off to join Jason. Annabeth’s eyes trailed after Percy, watching as he chatted with Nico, not sparing a glance over his shoulder to either her or Rachel. Her stomach was laden with something hollow and thick. She glanced away. 

With a start, Annabeth realized she and Rachel were at the table alone. Rachel was watching her curiously, and followed her gaze to Percy, then back again. “You know each other, right?”

Annabeth shifted. “Yeah. I’m good friends with Jason, so… I met Percy through him.” 

“He’s talked about you.” Rachel nudged at the few desserts on her plate, then glanced up, a smile crinkling the edges of her eyes. Was that Annabeth’s imagination, or did it seem hesitant? “Um, said that you were close. Friends.” 

“Yeah,” Annabeth said slowly. “Well, we always hung out. Us, Piper, and Jason. The four of us were… yeah.” 

“I was wondering if you could… well, Percy mentioned you were one of the most capable people he knew, and I’m not exactly prepared for all of this… queen consort stuff. I was just wondering, while I’m here, if you could help me with some stuff…? About, like, legislation and… it’s stupid.”

Annabeth’s response was automatic. Her face felt hot, tendrils of heat fluttering in the pit of her stomach. “It’s not stupid,” she said hastily. “I don’t mind, but I don’t know what I could help with.” 

Rachel shrugged. “Pretty much everything. The only reason I was chosen as Percy’s fiancée is because my dad’s rich and influential; they could’ve picked a lot of other people that are more fit for the actual role. I never got to go to Royal Charm School here, either, so…” she shrugged once more. “I think I just need someone to tell me what to do without being scared about it. I really appreciate all the help from Queen Sally, but sometimes I’m just afraid to ask her questions.” 

“I get it. But she started from nothing, you know; I feel like she’d be more patient than Hera at least. She’s been close to murdering Thalia I think five times already.” Annabeth turned towards where Thalia was standing, seeing Reyna and Piper beside her, each looking in the table’s direction murmuring to each other. All three girls hurriedly glanced away. Amusement and reassurement bubbled in Annabeth’s throat—it was like they were debating whether they should go back to the table to rescue her. Unnecessary, but very sweet. “But whatever questions you have, feel free to ask.” 

“You’re also attending New Rome University, right?” 

“Oh, I’ve still got a year left at Royal Charm School,” Annabeth said with a shake of her head. “But afterwards, yeah. Looking to major in law, probably; maybe a minor in architecture.”

“I’m doing development studies, but I really wanted to do something related to art. Maybe I’ll do a minor, but we’ll see.” Rachel was looking out at the lawn, and Annabeth followed her gaze. Her stomach churned as she saw she was watching Percy, but Annabeth quickly ducked her head, chastening herself. It wasn’t something she was allowed to be offended about anymore. Rachel was to marry him.

“What’s it like?” Annabeth asked, before she could stop herself. “The—arranged marriage?” 

Rachel swept her hair out of her face. She did not meet Annabeth’s eyes, seeming relatively unfazed by the inquisition. Annabeth figured it wasn’t too odd of a question to ask; after all, an arranged marriage could very well be in her future, if her parents decided to set her up with a Lord Royal when she became that age. “It’s not too bad. Percy’s sweet. Very uninterested, though.” 

“And is that… a problem?” 

Rachel shrugged. “I don’t know. He’s really cute.”

A pang of jealousy pulsed at Annabeth’s heart. “You have time,” she said, and it felt like sandpaper on her tongue. They had time to fall in love, which they inevitably would, because pragma persisted in partnerships like these. “I’m sure it’ll end up okay.”

Rachel nodded. She was still looking at Percy. Annabeth pretended not to notice.

The nonprofit event ended up being a black-tie art auction raising money for a local orphanage. Thalia’s upbringing in a women’s home had caused Hera to push it as one of the most important qualities of her public identity, mainly through philanthropy, to curate her image as “the people’s princess”. While Jason’s fame and notoriety clung to aristocrat spaces, Thalia’s was very much with commoners—the majority of New Rome. It worked well to rally public opinion with her. 

Annabeth poured herself a glass of apple cider, her eyes up at some of the selected art hanging from the walls. It’d been curated by her and Piper, seen as Thalia was too busy to arrange it, and mostly consisted of art from up-and-coming artists, which had all been commissioned and paid for for the event. 

“Percy alert,” Piper murmured, brushing past Annabeth. The silk of her dress shone against the dim mood lighting of the venue they’d picked out. “He and Rachel just showed up.” 

“Great.” Annabeth capped the bottle of cider and set it back onto the refreshments table. She spared a glance behind her—there were various attendees flocking the room, along with one or two people with cameras. Annabeth made a mental note to call security later; the palace had hired their own photographers for the event, and whatever this was was likely some tabloid or news site with impure intentions. “She’s really nice, Pipes.” 

“I know. Kind of hard to hate her.”

“We shouldn’t be hating her; it’s not her fault.”

Piper shrugged, as if that wasn’t the point. She leaned over to grab a cup off the refreshments table, filling it with champagne rather than apple cider. “You’re a better person than me, then. But I guess you’re right. Do you think she likes him, though?” 

Annabeth flinched. “Piper,” she said warningly. 

“Sorry.” Piper glanced over her shoulder. Annabeth followed her gaze: Percy and Rachel were near the crowd at the mouth of the room, greeting some attendees, all of which were of royal or socialite status. Rachel’s red hair was piled up in a bun, an emerald dress dripping off her figure. Percy wore a black suit. Their hands were interlocked. “Ugh, this sucks for you.” 

Annabeth took a sip of her cider. “We’re here to look at art.” 

Piper looked like she was about to argue, but with a sharp glance from Annabeth, she pivoted. “Okay, point taken. I won’t bring it up again.” Still, Piper’s eyes remained on Percy and Rachel, and Annabeth couldn’t find it in herself to look away either. Annabeth almost expected her to ask another question, something like if she or Percy had spoken to each other or that she didn’t have to suppress her feelings in order for them to go away, but none came. “I’ll leave you alone, then. Don’t get into trouble.”

“Come on,” Annabeth scoffed. “Me?”

Piper shrugged, disappearing into the crowd without a second thought. Annabeth’s gaze drifted back towards where she’d last seen Percy and Rachel. It was easy to catch a glimpse of them even as they moved: the vibrancy of Rachel’s hair was traceable even in the mood lighting of the room. 

Annabeth started around the gallery, intent on distracting herself with the arrangement of pieces, checking on the auction papers beneath each to ensure things were going smoothly. She was halfway through adjusting the table beneath a landscape of crashing waves when someone approached her—a figure with movements so familiar that Annabeth knew who it was without needing to turn around. Her shoulders squared as she stiffened. 

“This one’s nice,” Percy said. His voice was detached, casual. Annabeth didn’t sense that he would have Rachel with him, but she still didn’t want to say anything suggestive—it was a dead topic, anyway, even as her heartbeat pulsed too fast in her chest. “New Rome coastline?” 

“Yeah. It’s called, um, Coastline Sunlight. There are four or five commissioned works of New Rome’s landscapes. Hera wanted things to be… patriotic.” Carefully, as if making any abrupt moves would invite pain, Annabeth tilted her head. Her gaze met Percy’s in long, staggering seconds. “Interested?” 

Percy’s response was soft, easy. “Sure.”

Annabeth plucked the pen from beside the silent auction sheet and handed it to him. He took it, the pads of his fingers brushing against skin. In a moment, the contact was gone. He leaned over to scribble his information down on the sheet. 

Annabeth huffed. “If you don’t actually like it—”

“Who said I didn’t like it?” 

“I mean—”

Percy stood up, the pen dropping from his hand back onto the table. “Which one’s your favorite?”

Annabeth’s gaze flickered around the gallery. Resignedly, she said, “Probably this one.” There was something about the coastline that brought serenity to her: the docks inviting ships from Themiscyra and Atlantis; the sun beating down on the cerulean waves; the crystal-clear water, life just barely visible through its tint. The mood it evoked wasn’t just serenity. It was home: Annabeth’s home. The colors were soft, murmuring familiarity of the country Annabeth had grown up in. In the distance, the ocean and the island evoked something else. The home stashed in someone else. 

“Maybe I should’ve put more, then.” 

“Right.” Annabeth took a sip of her cider, irritated to find she only had a few drops left. They did nothing to soften the dryness of her throat. Her lips were cracking at the edges. 

It felt like Percy was about to say something more, but red hair enveloped the corner of Annabeth’s periphery, and before she knew it, Rachel was at his side. “You need to see the portraits on the west end of the gallery,” she gushed. “And they have some sculptures too, only one or two, but they’re so gorgeous. Annabeth—incredible curation. You and Piper seriously have an eye.”

Annabeth smiled; it wasn’t forced, Rachel was sweet enough that it came naturally. “Thank you. You should keep looking, Percy. Lots to enjoy more than this one.” 

Percy nodded, but his eyes didn’t meet Annabeth’s. 

Annabeth,

I lied. 

I shouldn’t be sending this. Don’t reponsd. I just wanted to say it was nice to see you. I don’t like that we can’t talk. I’m losing my best friend, not just my girlfriend. It’s been really loelny. It feels like I have so much to catch you up on. 

My parents selected Rachel for me a few days after the consort ball. She’s really sweet. I like her but, you know, I don’t want to marry her or anything. I don’t know how she feels (we haven’t talked about it) but she knows I don’t like her like that (I am desrpeately hoping that you do too even though I know it’s stupid). I don’t think I should send this letter. 

I’ve mostly been hanging around the palace and doing documents and perpawrok stuff under my dad. It’s pretty dull. I’ve been able to go out and skate though once in a while and I do my morning swims every day. I HATE SPELLING. 

I think I’m rambling too much (it’s two in the mronring right now. At the embassy.) I am not going to send this letter.

I fele like I should not sign off as I usually do so I am not signign off at all. 

The letter did get sent. Annabeth stared at it, folded it up, and set it in her folder along with all of the others. She had Thalia’s weekly tea party to attend at noon, and she wasn’t about to spend all morning angsting over Percy’s stationery. She spent her time, rather, changing into appropriate wear, even if Thalia had dissuaded all use of societal proper dress codes out of spite to Hera. It’d taken two weeks to get the high ladies to not wear fascinators, but so far, Thalia was unable to get them to budge on their official suits. 

Annabeth arrived at the palace green clad in tangerine, her curls done half-up, makeup light. Thalia was alone by the Queen’s gazebo, where each of her tea parties were held. She looked defiant but not necessarily unhappy in a midi-length black dress. The table was set with porcelain, though nothing had been served yet.

“I still don’t understand these,” she muttered, pulling her chair out and plopping down in it. Annabeth took a seat at her right side. “I mean, having tea with my friends makes sense, but the fact that I have to invite—”

“I think you’re complaining just to complain. I’ve explained this to you four times.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Thalia didn’t sound very happy about it. “I guess it’s not the worst thing ever. Rachel’s invited to this one too. She said she’d be over early.” 

Annabeth’s gaze was on the path leading to the gazebo. “I can see that,” she said, and Thalia turned so the both of them watched Rachel flounce up the stones, a bright smile on her face. “Hi, Rachel.”

“Hey,” Rachel said, taking the seat beside Annabeth. “No tea yet?”

“I have something steeping in here. I’ve been making my way through the kitchen’s stock on a random basis. Marlene—one of the maids—keeps asking me what I want to present so I just point at three random boxes every time.” Thalia lifted the top off one of the teapots, peering inside. “Looks like… tea.”

“You’re going to be a great queen,” Rachel mused, a giggle in her voice. Thalia arched her brow, amused. “That wasn’t sarcasm, I swear. I think it’s refreshing that you just don’t care about the more menial stuff.” 

“Thanks. Hard line to walk between ignorance and genuine unimportance.” Thalia capped the teapot. “I’m sure you’ll be fine as queen too. Are you going to—is it just a consort arrangement?” 

“I’ll be a consort for the first few years at least. I don’t know if I’ll be promoted to regnant.” Rachel shrugged. “I don’t really mind either way. It’s not exactly the kind of responsibility I’m suited for.” 

Annabeth pushed her chair out. The scrape of metal against the gazebo flooring sounded too loud in the tranquil morning. “I’m going to ask the attendants if we can get an appetizer course out, just while we’re here,” she said hastily. “I’ll be right back.”

“Okay,” Thalia said. Her eyes were gentle but inquisitive on Annabeth’s figure. “Looks like Piper and Reyna are here too.”

Annabeth nodded, stepping down from the gazebo and brushing past the two approaching women with murmured hellos. She stepped in through the side door of the palace, gesturing for one of the maids serving them. It didn’t take more than that; the servant rushed off to the kitchens to gather their appetizers, leaving Annabeth alone at the foyer. 

The door creaked behind her. “Hey,” Rachel said warmly. “Did I ever show you the art I got in the auction earlier? All the pieces arrived at the embassy; I figured you might want to see them.”  

“Oh, sure.” Annabeth turned away from her view of the dwindling corridor. Rachel had crowded beside the side door, hunched over her phone as she pulled up pictures. Her green eyes sparkled with ever-present amusement. “How, um… I hope you’ve been enjoying your stay.”

“Oh, yeah, it’s really nice here. I’ve only been in New Rome a few times; I can get so island-locked on Atlantis.” Rachel tilted her phone in Annabeth’s direction. “I got this portrait, a landscape of the skyline, and one of the sculptures… Percy only bought one; the one of the shore. He mentioned it was your favorite?”

Annabeth nodded. She didn’t trust what would come out if she spoke. Rachel passed through the images on her phone, showing them to her before clicking it off and tucking it back into her shoulder purse. “I have a question, actually.” 

“Yeah?” 

Rachel shifted. “I didn’t want to ask Jason, and Piper said you were closer to him, so—I’m really sorry if it sounds weird, but—do you know any way I could… get him to warm up to me? Not even in a romantic sense, just—it feels like he’s holding me at a distance, and the whole arrangement isn’t going to work if he does.” 

Annabeth froze. Carefully, she said, “I don’t think I would have any good advice. I’ve never had an arranged relationship before.” 

“I’m not asking how to do that, I’m just trying to be his friend.” Rachel shrugged. “I figured you’d know.” 

Annabeth’s gaze was too heavy on the door. Rachel seemed to notice, but neither girl spoke. “I don’t know,” Annabeth said, and it felt like she was a broken record—repeating the same sentiments over again, voice box sputtering, uselessness setting in. There was no progression of herself, of the situation. There was only awkward, staggering stagnance. “He’s easy to get along with. There’s not much that can get him to lower his guard. Just be… natural.” 

Rachel’s reply was so delayed that Annabeth was afraid she was starting to suspect something was up. What was it that she had to keep a secret, though? Did she really have to pretend she and Percy hadn’t dated—pretend it never happened? Was there something so wrong in Rachel knowing? 

“Okay,” Rachel said before Annabeth could come to a conclusion. It wouldn’t have been polite to say it outright, though. She’d lost her chance. If it was something important, Percy probably would have brought it up before. So she just nodded, meek, then exited the palace by Rachel’s hand a moment later. 

The afternoon allotted some space for Annabeth to be by herself, so she holed up in her bedroom, cleaning once more. It wasn’t nearly messy enough to re-organize, but there was nothing that set her mind straight like a bit of structural effort. Music drifted across her room as she sorted through the files of her desk, all strewn out across her bed. Percy’s folder was the only left untouched as she filtered through the rest of her papers, disposing of unnecessary documents in the recycling bin she’d pulled inside. 

A knock came at her door. Annabeth turned her music down. “Come in,” she said, paper-clipping a stack of useful guidelines from Royal Charm School together. The door nudged open and Athena poked her head in. “Oh, you’re not at work?”

“I have an hour until my next conference. What are you doing at home?” 

“Sorting stuff. Thalia didn’t need me at the palace, so I figured I could clean my room a bit.” Annabeth slipped the stack of papers into a free folder, then started on her next stack. Athena sat down at the side of Annabeth’s bed, the mattress dipping down from her weight. Her hands brushed across the papers in front of her. “What’s up?” 

Athena shrugged. She wasn’t the most verbose of mothers. Much of her and Annabeth’s communication had been through books and study tips rather than casual conversation growing up, and even now Annabeth felt the urge to delve into matters of the state and politics. “I wanted to see how you’re doing. It feels like I never see you anymore.” 

“I guess I’m busy.” Annabeth shoved a paperclip between the lines of her lips as she tried to arrange the papers she held flat, folding back a crease that refused to lay still. Her next words were slurred: “So are you, though.” 

“Mm.” Athena picked at some of Annabeth’s files. Annabeth took the paperclip out from between her teeth, sliding it across the papers to keep them in place. The sides still creased upwards; Annabeth fought with them, irritated. “What are these? Letters?”

Annabeth’s head rocketed up. “Don’t look at those.” 

“Are these from Percy? You two still do that penpal thing you started all those years ago?” Athena ignored Annabeth’s protest, taking out one of the letters and flipping it over to glance at the stationery. Heartbeats skidded against the shell of Annabeth’s rib cage. “...Yours?” 

“I said, don’t look at those.” Annabeth tore the letter out of Athena’s hand with far too much force. Panic set in a moment after, and she dropped the papers she’d been holding to ensure she hadn’t creased the paper. When she eventually looked up, all she saw were her mother’s gray eyes, big and startled.

“Annabeth, are these—”

“Nothing.” 

It seemed Annabeth had forgotten Athena was still holding the entire folder of letters. In an instant, another was in her hand. “Are these love letters?” she asked, incredulity in her tone as she lifted the wax seal of one of the envelopes. Annabeth fought the urge to rip this one out of her hand, too. 

“I don’t understand what the difference between regular letters and love letters are,” she said stubbornly. Heat rose to her face, pricking unsightly splotches across the suntan of her skin. “They’re letters, and they’re mine. Give it back.” 

“You’re cavorting with the crown prince of Atlantis.”

“Mom,” Annabeth snapped. “I’m not—don’t call it that.” She was unable to suppress the urge: this time she snatched both the letter and the folder of them from Athena. “It’s none of your business.” 

“I think it very much is, if my daughter is conducting an affair—” 

“We’re not having an affair, mom, we’re broken up.” Annabeth’s words came out too loud, the points of her vowels puncturing the walls of her room. “What does it even matter?”

Footsteps shuddered against the spine of the house. Before Annabeth could think of who could be coming to her room, Athena spoke again, her words direct and hard. This was not, she realized, her mother—this was Councilwoman Chase. “This is dated from yesterday. You realize this is an act of—he’s engaged, Annabeth.”

“I didn’t send one back!” Annabeth said defensively. Athena reached out for the folder, but Annabeth held tight on, clutching the folder to her chest. “It doesn’t matter. You don’t have to do any damage control because there isn’t any damage to control. We’re broken up. We figured it out.” 

“Your prince’s pining letters doesn’t seem to affirm to that.” 

The door to Annabeth’s room opened, revealing Frederick at the door. “What’s going on?” he asked. “Jason?”

“Not Jason. That’d be better than this,” Athena said, and Annabeth turned furiously red. Her feet slid to the ground, the plod of her soles hitting the flooring in an abrupt slam. “She was involved with Prince Perseus of Atlantis.” 

Annabeth didn’t even want to look at her father’s expression. “Get out,” she hollered, one of her arms flailing as she gestured for the door. “I told you, we already broke up. It doesn’t matter.” 

Athena scoffed. “It certainly does if the engaged prince of a different country is still sending you letters talking about how much he loves you.”

“You didn’t even read the entire thing!” Annabeth snapped. “Can you hear me out for two seconds?”

“Athena—” Frederick started. Athena rose to her feet, her eyes fluttering closed as she breathed out. “Annabeth, what is going on? Can you explain?” 

Annabeth’s arms crossed, still clutching her folder of letters to her chest. “Percy and I dated,” she said stiffly. “We kept it a secret because I’m ineligible for the Atlantian throne. But we broke up because he had to—because of his consort ball. Mom’s making something out of nothing.”

“I’m not making something out of nothing. He sent you a letter two days ago.”

“We’re not doing anything. I didn’t respond.” 

Athena sighed, her fingers coming up to rest upon her glabella. “Annabeth. Why would you ever even get yourself in this kind of position? If word got out—”

“Word isn’t going to get out.” 

“It could be considered treason.” 

“It’s not a big deal, mom. It’s okay.” Annabeth tightened her grasp on her folder. “I promise. We aren’t talking anymore. He’s engaged. We know.” 

“Athena,” Frederick murmured, hand outstretching to caress his wife’s shoulder. “Annabeth isn’t stupid. Everything’s in the past now, from what it seems. Though…” He phrased his next words carefully, glancing over at Annabeth. “I do wish you would have told us.” 

Annabeth’s words were stiff. There was an edge to her voice—something thick and wet and warm, even as she tried to quell it from shaking. Heat spread across the back of her eyes, though what burned them wasn’t sadness or upset: it was shame. “It doesn’t even matter anymore.” 

Neither of Annabeth’s parents said what she knew they were thinking. Why would you be so stupid? 

Hastily, Annabeth started around her room, gathering up her stuff. She didn’t go neatly; her bedroom was still in the dawning days of disarray, given she hadn’t yet organized everything. “I’m going to Piper’s,” she said, grabbing her phone but not daring to let go of the folder of Percy’s letters. One of them fluttered against her arm: the one she’d grabbed back from her mom and hadn’t returned to the folder yet. Annabeth ignored it, managing to pick up her bag before starting out of the room. Her mom’s protestations could very well have been the breeze to her ears. She didn’t hear anything. 

Her trek out the main gate was frantic and frazzled, one hand working to shove her phone into her bag as she used her hip to open the side gate. It would probably be less stupid to take a car, but Annabeth was too irritated to stop; Piper only lived down the street anyway, the two of them being next-door neighbors—although their estates happened to be miles apart. 

There were one or two paparazzi cars parked outside. Annabeth ignored them, successfully managing to shove her phone and keys into her bag. She paused, clutching the folder tight to her rib cage as she used both hands to tug the zipper of her bag clothes. A gust of wind blew across her face; Annabeth stumbled, her grip loosening for a second long enough for the letter still not in her folder to drop out from her clutches. 

Annabeth barely suppressed her grunt of irritation as she chased it the few feet it flew, snatching it from the ground. Hastily, she checked to make sure the paper hadn’t torn, then grabbed the envelope to seal it back in and slip along with all the others into her folder. 

Shame still burned at Annabeth’s skin. She brushed it off and kept walking. 

Annabeth ended up spending the night at Piper’s. Duke McLean was out in the evening—some meeting at the Government Council building—but even when he returned, he left the two girls alone. Piper didn’t ask any questions even as the only things in Annabeth’s hands were her phone and her letters from Percy. She also didn’t say anything when Annabeth spent the next hour paging through them. 

Eventually, the two of them got to sleep. When Annabeth did wake up, it was by shaking of Piper’s hand. “Annabeth,” she said urgently.

Annabeth wiped at her bleary eyes, glancing upwards. She wasn’t used to Piper getting up before her, and it felt odd to see her wide-awake. Clearly, though, she’d only got up a few moments before her—her hair was in disarray, and still was still in her pajamas. “What?”

“Jason called me.” 

Annabeth blinked at her. “I thought you weren’t talking.” 

Piper had already kept going. “Jason called me—yeah, that’s why I picked up, but—it’s bad, Annabeth. RRBN—”

Dread shot down Annabeth’s spine, a direct hit of fear rocketing across every nerve in her body. It wasn’t slow, not a silent killer: it made itself known. She shot straight up. “What?” 

Piper turned her phone screen to show her. At the front page of the Royal Rome Broadcasting Network was a picture of Annabeth and Percy—hands interlocked over the familiar white-and-red of Aunty Em’s Eatery. That date had been months ago: Annabeth still remembered what she’d worn at the beckon of Thalia; the conversation that had occurred over their burgers. The headline was similar: a violation of Annabeth’s piece, a theft of her soul. ATLANTIS’S CROWN PRINCE SECRETLY COURTING NEW ROME ROYAL. 

Annabeth’s hand clapped over her mouth. A stifled cry made it through the blockage of skin regardless: high-pitched, reedy, nothing familiar to herself. “When was it posted?’

“Three minutes ago. Jason called me twenty seconds at posting. He’s on the phone with the network officials now.” Piper refreshed the page. “It’s not going away.” 

“Has he—have you read—” Annabeth attempted to scramble up, then quickly came to the realization that her legs had melted into jelly. 

“He didn’t bother reading it before calling. It’s really bad, I think, I don’t—” Piper opened up the article. Annabeth didn’t even bother reading the text—it was all information she knew. What she cared about was the pictures. She pulled the phone out of Piper’s hand so aggressively she almost feared Piper would get offended. 

There were images everywhere. Images taken in places she thought were safe: Aunty Em’s, hidden in the back behind room dividers that had always seemed so unbreachable in childhood; her house, where Percy was visible at her front door and at her window; the consort ball, their silhouettes visible from the side door she’d snuck out of; even the art auction that’d happened not even a week ago, their heads craned towards each other as they murmured over the Coastline Sunlight. 

Somehow, though, the ones under them were even worse: images of Percy and Rachel, all innocuous, none in the compromising positions of how he and Annabeth had been. There were no hands held, no faces close, no kisses exchanged. They were worse because they were under the blatant explanation that Percy was engaged and entirely uninterested in his fiancée. Engaged, and engaging in an affair. 

Piper took the phone out of Annabeth’s hand; she let it go freely, her knuckles weak, grip soft around the metal. Her chest caved in, bones cracking; falling into her lungs, jutting into flesh. Her breaths came out in shaky cycles. 

“Annabeth?” Piper asked urgently, but Annabeth couldn’t find the wherewithal to respond. “I told Jason to text me updates—if anyone can get them to take it down, it’d be him. You got them to not air the story about me and Jason, remember? They’ll listen.” 

“That’s different, it wasn’t out yet,” Annabeth said, voice strangled. Somehow, she managed to rectangle her legs from the bedsheets, patting around for her phone. It was on silent, but as she turned it on, a barrage of notifications flooded her home screen, so many noises popping up that she immediately shut it onto silent again. Most of who was attempting to contact her were her friends or parents, but there were one or two-off calls from school acquaintances. Annabeth’s hands shook as she scrolled through them, trying to see if Percy had said anything. “Piper, this is…”

”Jason just texted. He got them to take it down for now, at least—there was a picture of the two of you at Royal Charm School, and the school has laws protecting that,” Piper said hurriedly. “I don’t know if they’ll put it back on… and some other news sites might jump on…” She ran her hand through her hair, glancing up to meet Annabeth’s eyes. “You need to change. We need to see your parents, and Thalia and Reyna, and probably…” 

“Percy,” Annabeth finished, the name a mere exhale out of her mouth. 

“It was only active for six minutes, Annabeth.”

Both of them were too smart to know that didn’t change anything, though. Annabeth stopped the scroll through her notifications. She didn’t see anything from Percy, and all of a sudden, a jolt of freezing cold settled across her chest. “That doesn’t matter.” 

After Annabeth and Piper had changed, they hurried back to the Chase house, although they had to cut through the back in order to avoid the ocean of reporters outside. Annabeth buried her head in Piper’s shoulder as they walked, the folder of Percy’s letters clutched like a lifeline. “It’ll be okay,” Piper said. “We’ll figure it out.” 

It was already bustling by the time Annabeth and Piper arrived. Athena and Frederick were both fully dressed, pacing around the kitchen island. Thalia was sitting awkwardly at it, Reyna with her—both of their heads shot up as Annabeth approached the mouth of the room. Thalia instantly slipped off her chair. “Are you okay?” she blurted.

“What are you two doing here?” 

 “We wanted to make sure you were okay. Jason dealt with it; he sent me out,” Thalia answered. “Hera said she’d dispatch some of our damage control… but it’s really bad already. Reyna’s been online all morning.” 

“It’s all over the internet. Trending both here and in Atlantis,” Reyna said with a sigh. “Six other news sites have released articles with new images—nothing as defining as RRBN had, but just pictures of the two of you together, probably ones they’d taken thinking you were just friends. If it makes you feel any better, the two of you were careful.”

“This isn’t fair.” Annabeth buried her face in her hands, misery seeping in through the cracks of her chest. “We broke up. We’re broken up.” 

“And Jason’s having RRBN release that statement right now,” Athena cut in. “We’re dealing with at least that. You’ll be cleared of having an affair.” Still, a crease furrowed the line of her eyebrows, like she was thinking about the letter Annabeth had received from Percy just a few days prior. “But we haven’t been able to get in contact with the Atlantian royal family or the embassy yet.” 

“Hera has someone going over there now,” Thalia said. “Percy and his parents are probably talking between themselves. I—”

”There’s the follow-up right now from RRBN,” Reyna cut in. “ATLANTIS’S CROWN PRINCE COURTING NEW ROME ROYAL: UPDATE. Upon contact from our sources, RRBN has in fact concluded that Prince Perseus Jackson and Lady Annabeth Chase had split before Prince Jackson’s engagement to Lady Rachel Dare of Atlantis. We apologize for— okay, well, whatever. Point taken.” 

“Oh, great, that solves all my problems. I’m not a homewrecking whore.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” Reyna said, “It looks like public opinion is in your favor. I see, um, we should abolish arranged marriages altogether with five thousand likes; just let them be HAPPY with seven thousand…”

“It doesn’t,” Annabeth said shortly. Reyna shrugged; Piper and Thalia exchanged current glances. “This is—what am I supposed to…” 

“Hey. Sweetheart.” Annabeth looked up to see her father coming over to her, one of his hands raising out to take her. His grip was warm, and Annabeth’s fingers clung to his like she was a little girl. “We’ll figure it out. It’s not the end of the world.” 

Somehow, they managed to get through the next hour armed with a clear-cut timeline of Percy and Annabeth’s relationship (on Annabeth’s part); an organized plan and direction (on Jason and Hera’s part); and a lack of anxiety (on everyone else’s part). Annabeth wasn’t necessarily feeling any less panicked, but her breath came out even, and she managed to stop getting the urge to obsessively check her phone every five minutes. Her friends had crowded around her sides, Annabeth’s hands passed around between two of the three as their conversation went on. 

RRBN’s follow-up statement, at least, had soothed the naysayers accusing the two of acting irresponsibly by continuing an affair even while he was engaged, though to Annabeth’s extreme displeasure, Hera and the palace’s media control had her give them the whole relationship timeline so they could support it with yet another explanation. The Atlantian royal family also got in touch with the palace: understandably vexed, they agreed to meeting with Hera’s media people so they could solve what was to happen from then on. 

The game plan was this: “Okay,” Thalia said, glancing up from her phone where—ostensibly—she was reading off a text from Jason. “Uh, we’re sending Jason with our media team to the embassy to sort things out with the Atlantian media team. Jason says that we’ll probably just both put out statements that you’re broken up and… everything will go on as it was.” For some reason, a distressed look crossed over Thalia’s face. “No harm no foul.”

Athena nodded. “Good. We don’t need any more drama.” 

“So it’ll be over?” Annabeth asked, her tone still despondent. Somehow, it wasn’t an answer she was happy with, but she was too exhausted to examine why. 

“Nothing more than one bad publicity day. You’ll probably have more paparazzi following you around after that, but… we’re used to it.” Thalia shrugged. “We can lie low for the rest of the day. The four of us can hang out.” 

“Don’t you have stuff with…”

“I can cancel.” Thalia glanced over at Annabeth’s parents. “Jason will text you and all of us updates in a group chat. We’re done here.” 

It was Reyna and Piper that propelled Annabeth out of the kitchen and up to her room. The folder of letters was clutched in Piper’s arms, pried out of Annabeth’s after Athena had cast it too many unapproving glances. “Why do I feel like none of us are happy with this conclusion?” Piper asked, once the door was securely shut behind them. 

“Because,” Reyna said with a sigh, “We were all hoping the whole grand reveal would lead to the royal family agreeing to break off Percy’s engagement and marry Annabeth instead.” 

Annabeth barked out a laugh. “As if. That’s not how it works.”

“Yeah, but Thalia’s bright-eyed enthusiasm and maneuver in coup d'étating Jason made us all think otherwise.”

Annabeth sighed. “Thalia didn’t coup d’état Jason. She’s literally his older sister; the throne belongs to her. Therefore it doesn’t count. She didn’t change history in any way.” Annabeth plopped down onto her bed. “And I, for one, did not think that was going to be the end result here.” 

“Well, I do,” Thalia said imperiously. “And I’m the queen-to-be, so therefore you should listen to me.” 

“I’m not the person you have to convince. That’s Percy’s parents.” Annabeth sighed, grabbing for her phone and flicking it on. “God, what does Rachel think?”

“I’m sure she and Percy have talked it out.” 

“I feel horrible.” 

“I think you need to just rest and relax.” Piper leaned over to snatch Annabeth’s phone from her hand. “I’ll clear out your notifications. If it’s anything important, I’ll let you know. Be free from the shackles of social interaction.”

Annabeth was ready to object, but the urge to dissent wasn’t very strong, ebbing out of her body in favor of exhaustion. She sighed, but no words came out, so Piper began swiping through her phone to rid it of notifications. Thalia and Reyna took spots on either of her sides. 

“These are really all the letters he wrote you?” Reyna shifted, and Annabeth picked her head up from where she’d buried it in her sheets to see she’d opened up the folder of letters. “You kept all of them?”

“It’s rude to throw away handwritten letters, first of all, but yeah.” Annabeth sighed into her blankets. “Don’t look at them.”

”I’m not reading, don’t worry.” Reyna paged through the letters, all arranged in timeline order, each carefully sealed back in their original envelopes. “I don’t know, Annabeth. I’m kind of on Thalia’s side about this. You and Percy have been dating for—how long?”

”Since they were like thirteen,” Piper said. “Five or six years.” 

“This is maybe your only opportunity to change what happened.” Reyna glanced up. “I feel like—I don’t know. You could try.” 

Annabeth hoisted herself upwards. “Try to what? Convince the Atlantian government to let me marry their son? A half-commoner from a different country? There are no treaties supporting our engagement—they won’t be getting a lot of money—no power—”

”Percy would be happy. Just like his dad with Sally,” Reyna pointed out. “I feel like you should at least reach out to him to talk about it.” 

Annabeth rolled onto her back. The faces of her friends craned over her, and Reyna held up the most recent letter, the envelope flapping open above her. Annabeth’s chest pulsed, slow but irregular, managing to catch her off guard. Reyna’s brow lifted, and she shook the letter like Annabeth was a cat that was going to grab for it if it moved. “So?” 

Annabeth sighed. She took the letter, pressing it close to her face. The cartilage of her nose bent under the pressure. ”Okay.”

Percy, 

Can we talk?

Love,

Annabeth

Annabeth, 

Yeah.

Yours,

Percy

The letter was not a letter but an email. Annabeth got a response back within the end of the day. By the next, she was prepped and ready to head for the embassy with little permission and outright insolence of what the palace’s media team had instructed. 

“What am I even supposed to say?” Annabeth asked as Reyna arranged the curls of her hair. They were standing at the foyer of the McLean house, having moved Annabeth to Piper’s place after the paparazzi trucks refused to budge from the Chase’s. Thalia was unable to stay over, given she had governmental duties, but Piper and Reyna both were helping to prep her to leave. “Hi, I know you’re engaged, but given the whole reveal of our relationship do you think we should try to convince your parents to let us date? It’s stupid.”

Piper sighed. “You’re catastrophizing.”

Annabeth ignored her. “Also, Rachel—”

“That’s why you’re going over there to talk,” Reyna interrupted. “You have to communicate for this to work. You have your to -do list on points to cover. You and Percy are made for each other. He’s not happy with Rachel. He should’ve been honest and prevented this all from happening. Then ask permission to date him.”

Annabeth huffed. Reyna’s hand retracted from her hair, and she set her hands on her hips, surveying Annabeth’s outfit. It seemed she deemed it acceptable, because no further protestations came. “If Thalia was here she’d say that was ridiculous.” 

“Well, yeah, because it is. You’re procrastinating.” Piper wheeled Annabeth towards the side door. “Car’s waiting for you. Percy’s also waiting. Go. Text us if you need a rescue.”

Annabeth, two steps out of the door, swiveled around to look at her friends standing in the foyer. “I love you two.” 

Reyna laughed. Piper blew her a kiss. “Oh, we know. Go get him.” 

The drive to the embassy was short. The McLeans lived fairly close to the palace and where most of the foreign embassies were kept, so Annabeth didn’t have enough time to forget about her worries or little enough time to not dwell on them. By the time her car door opened and she emerged, her stomach was already trembling with preemptive butterflies. 

Percy stood in the back doorway of the embassy, fitted in a dark sweatshirt and missing any regalia pointing to his station. Rachel swayed at his side, looking a little more unsure. “Hi,” Annabeth blurted upon stepping to them. Rachel averted her gaze. Percy bobbed his head, an uncertain smile flickering up the edge of his mouth, before gesturing for them to go inside. 

Annabeth spared Percy another glance before picking up her pace to catch Rachel, who’d ducked far quicker down the hall. “Wait,” she said hurriedly, and Rachel slowed. Annabeth swallowed, her saliva thick in her throat. “I, um… I’m sorry.”

Rachel met her eyes, and to Annabeth’s surprise, her expression held no grudge. “It’s okay,” she said, lips quirking upwards. “I understand why you two didn’t tell me. I appreciate that you… tried, I guess, to break up, and I’m sorry about the—well. I figure the reason you’re here…” 

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not trying to break up a couple. Don’t worry. I’m on your side.” After a moment’s hesitation, Rachel’s hand snuck out to take Annabeth’s, though her touch was unsure; fingers feather-light. She gave her a soft squeeze. “Percy and I already talked about it all.”

“I just figured it’d be nicer to include you in… this conversation.”

Summer freshwater and the rustle of clothing closed in behind the two girls. “Can we go into a meeting room to discuss this?” Percy asked. His tone was near-unreadable, but the palm of his hand set against the small of Annabeth’s back, and a soft thrill pulsed down the nerves of her spin. “I told my parents I had something to tell them tonight, so if we do this quicker…”

“Right.” Annabeth cleared her throat, and Rachel opened the door to the meeting room, ushering the three of them inside. Nobody else was in the room; it was an affair created on their own time, but still, it felt like Annabeth was being judged somehow. “So, uh…” 

“Relationship leak,” Percy suggested. “They already put out statements that we broke up, so we’re just going to… take it. Go on like usual.” 

“Well.” Annabeth had taken a seat across from Percy in the room, and she straightened, smoothing her palms flat against the top of the discussion table. “What if we… don’t?”

Percy scoffed. “We broke up a month ago, Wise Girl. I can’t get us a time machine.” 

“I’m just thinking—what if we were wrong for not telling your parents in the first place? We didn’t even try,” Annabeth said. “We just immediately kept our relationship secret—the only reason authority was stopping us was because we never challenged it. But your parents know now, and mine do too. What if we just… asked them?” 

Percy’s jaw had softened, a papercut-thin gap between his lips flashing the smallest glint of ivory teeth. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. Annabeth didn’t look away, even as his hands ran through his hair, the flinch in his face sending stuttering panic through her system. “That’s not going to work.”

“How would we know if we don’t try?” Annabeth felt it might be inappropriate to take Percy’s hand with his fiancée being in the room, but she did so anyway, leaning forward to capture it across from the table. The curl of his fingers bled warmth into her palm. “Thalia’s radical optimism is rubbing off on me, but right now we don’t have anything to lose.” 

“Uh, if I can interject.” Annabeth turned towards Rachel; one of her fingers were curled deep within her hair, tendrils of red bouncing across the milky white of her skin. “I think you guys should go for it. Everyone already knows you dated. Sally will probably be understanding. You don’t even need to get engaged—obviously that’s the end goal here, but you’re one of the most capable people there are. You could totally be queen consort.”  

“I feel like that’s taking it a bit too far yet,” Percy said with a snort. He paused, then glanced at Annabeth, his hand tightening around hers. “And you… you’re okay with it? Whatever might come? Getting married—becoming queen—having to abide by all those rules—leaving New Rome?” 

“For you, Seaweed Brain,” Annabeth said, “I’d do anything.” 

Percy’s face broke out into a grin. “Well, then. I guess let’s do it.” 

Annabeth sat beside Percy as the video call to Atlantis loaded in on Percy’s computer screen. Rachel had excused herself, leaving Percy and Annabeth to work through what they’d say to Percy’s parents for a few hours. They hadn’t gotten to talk—not really, not the way Annabeth had wanted—but everything seemed at least to be going within their plans. Annabeth’s hand slinked across the inches separating them on the couch to take Percy’s. He accepted it.  

Annabeth wasn’t certain as to what Percy had told his parents beforehand, but taking King Poseidon’s dropped jaw when the camera finally registered into account, he likely had not mentioned that she would also be present. “Percy,” Sally asked, recovering a moment before her husband did, “What is this?” 

Percy exchanged a glance with Annabeth. She couldn’t figure much from the camera angle of the Jacksons: the two of them weren’t clad in regalia, neither having donned crowns for the meeting and gathered on a sofa of their own. Annabeth lowered her gaze. “Um,” Percy started intelligently. 

Annabeth nudged him. He exhaled. “Um,” he said, a little stronger this time, “Annabeth and I were talking. What with the—news leak. We figured, maybe…” 

Sally was looking between the two of them rather suspiciously. Poseidon’s eyes were fixed rather intently on his son. “Figured what?” 

“We want to keep our relationship.” Percy’s hand was very tight around Annabeth’s fingers now. “We never asked you in the past—didn’t let you know—but Annabeth and I are serious, mom. We’ve been together for—” he looked at Annabeth. 

“Six years,” Annabeth filled in quietly. 

“And—well, we hid it okay, but… I want to spend the rest of my life with her. I don’t want to just throw it away. And we were stupid for never trying to convince you two in the first place.” 

Sally’s eyes flickered to her husband’s. He cleared his throat, straightened, and finally spoke. “I don’t know, Percy,” he said. “It’s irregular.”

“How? Just because Annabeth’s not from Atlantis? It’ll reinforce the political agreement we have with New Rome. Annabeth was supposed to be Thalia’s prime lady-in-waiting. She’s been organizing stuff for her all summer. She’s excelled in all of her classes and studies and she was even considered for the New Rome throne.” Annabeth thought that, maybe, it wasn’t Percy squeezing her hand too tightly: it felt like she was doing the same now. Perhaps they were both grasping hopelessly hard to each other. “And I love her.” 

“It’s not that simple.”

“It was simple enough for you and mom.” 

Poseidon sighed, rubbing at his face. “Even that was—” 

“She’s of noble birth. She’s capable. She checks all of your boxes.” 

Sally’s attention turned to Annabeth. “And you’re okay with this, sweetie?” she asked. “It’s a lot. If the two of you do get engaged—well, that’ll lead to marriage and a lot of duties. Your fealty will be to Atlantis.” 

“I know.” Slowly, Annabeth detangled her hand from Percy’s. She rubbed feeling back into her numbed fingers, voice rising as she spoke. “Percy and I are serious. I’m committed to him. I have been. And I’d—I’d love to—I’d do anything to marry Percy. It would be an honor.” 

And it would be. Somewhere between hearing Thalia’s words against the topic and the current point of time, the years of suppression of the future had broken through. Annabeth could think it, see it clearly: being with Percy; doing her royal duties; completing her hobbies in her free time, sending letters to Reyna, Piper, and Thalia; attending the events she was oh-so-familiar with with Percy officially at her side. It was tangible. Within reach. Annabeth’s childhood dreams had materialized into the real world—close enough to touch. 

“The press are going to have a field day with this,” Poseidon groaned. 

Annabeth raised her hand to her mouth. Percy looked at her, wide-eyed, then back at his father. “Is that a yes?” 

“I’m going to have to explain to Duke Dare that the engagement is off.” Poseidon rolled his eyes, but it was slow; lighthearted. “I figure Rachel knows about this. Well, then. The two of you… lay low before the media circus comes to a boil again.” 

The connection clicked off. Annabeth spun around to face Percy. His hand raised to remove hers from where it’d clamped tight over her mouth. Breath tickled her face; his eyes were glowing. “Well,” he said. 

“It’s not the end. We still have to—I mean, we’re not even engaged, that ring doesn’t—do you want it back? And we probably won’t—I’ve got to prove myself, right? Probably need to meet your parents—” 

“Wise Girl,” Percy said, but once she’d quieted, nothing more came. All he did was kiss her: slowly, solemnly, like he’d been waiting to do it for half of his life and like he’d do it for the rest of it if he could go that long without oxygen. 

Annabeth melted into him. 

Annabeth, 

Sorry for mkiang you abandon Thalia. It’s lonely here in Atlantis without you; I can’t wait until you abandon Thalia (like aforemnentoined) and visit me at the end of the month. Things are settling down here. Media’s not so frenzied about my and Rachel’s breakup. Rachel is starting up an art studio on a completely random note. Anyway: 

I appreciate you giving me back the engagement ring. You’ll have it on your hand again shortly. 

I’ll keep you updated about anything new that happens but it’s really boring without you. 

Yours,

Percy 

Percy, 

Has anyone ever told you you’re a drama queen? Thalia will operate fine without me, and being head lady is a good role for Piper anyway. We’re wrapping up events and stuff here and prepping for her college now. Hera’s calmed down. I don’t have as many paparazzi stalking me anymore. I do miss you though. 

I still think five carats is ridiculous.

Love,

Annabeth