i tried to figure out how to start this casually for like three years lol hi

it's been suuuper long, like way too long, but better late than never, right? i've been working on a lot of stuff for this fandom and i figured they would make up for the lack of updates, but the going is slow and i miss writing actively for you guys.

so! when in doubt, what do you do?

you write a royal au, of course. this will be my very first, so let me know what you think! there's going to be a bajillion parts, and this is only the beginning. enjoy!

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"You're crying."

Annabeth raised a self-conscious hand to her cheek. She blinked when her fingertips drew away damp, cursing herself for not being aware of the sensation glazing her eyes before her younger brother had been.

Matthew sat forward on his knees, paying no attention to the book that slid from his lap as he did so. His deep blue jerkin was wrinkled and far too fancy for a simple afternoon of reading, but instead of griping on about his own discomfort, his attention was fixed solely on his sister. "Why're you crying, Annabeth?"

She smiled, reaching over him to right the fallen book. "Sit down, Matthew. I wasn't crying."

"But you were," he argued, settling back. "There's still a tear in your eye."

Annabeth wiped it away with the back of her hand, forcing her smile to hold. "No. I don't know what you're going on about."

Matthew pouted, grabbing at the bottom of her dress to ensure he held her attention. He glanced down, hesitant, before whispering, "Did I make you sad?"

Annabeth straightened, feeling her lips part the slightest bit. She looked down at the young boy gripping her gown, tracing his thin, almost squinted eyes with her own until she could see it: that quiet desperation, that pleading glint that begged her to rebuke his notion.

And of course he hadn't. How could he have? The boy had been reading silently, stuck in a world of his own until his attention drifted elsewhere and he'd sparked conversation. Logically, there was no way he could have been the cause of her tears.

But children didn't think that way.

"No, Matthew," she murmured, removing his smaller hand from her clothing. She waited for him to correct his posture and meet her gaze. "No. You did not make me sad. You have not ever made me sad, nor will you ever. Alright? Look at me. Say alright."

Matthew frowned, unsure. "Alright."

She collected his hands in hers and leaned in. "Now grab your things and run along. You've got a fitting with your brother before noon and the queen won't be satisfied if she hears you're late."

Matthew sighed at the reminder and gathered his books, standing with newfound energy. He paused at the doorway, turning back. 

"You can't be sad all the time, sis. Smile more often."

His large grin was the last thing Annabeth caught sight of before he was out the door, moving nimbly and swiftly. She watched his last place of presence for a while afterward, reflecting on her predicament. 

Matthew was her half brother--as was his twin Bobby. Their difference in parentage made for little to no rift between the three of them. For young boys, they were much too empathetic and lovable, and Annabeth adored them as she would a full-blood relative. 

Perhaps her love for them was her downfall. Perhaps it was what held her back.

For Princess Annabeth of Olympus hated her kingdom. But she was stuck.

She pressed her eyes shut and willed them dry, and still the memories penetrated her guard and Annabeth was plunged into an endless sea of reasons she could never be free.

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"You, tyrant, will die today by my blade!"

Annabeth watched good-naturedly as Thalia swung her sword clumsily, arcing it over her head and just short of her friend's feet. Luke drew his own sword dramatically and swung back. Their weapons met in the middle and Annabeth leaned forward with anticipation, as most young girls do in the face of shiny blades.

"I may be a tyrant," Luke countered, grinning sharply as he held strong beneath Thalia's weapon, "but at least I can fight decently."

He disarmed her and she stumbled to her bottom with a cry. Luke dropped his sword and held up his hands, suddenly worried he'd hurt the girl. Annabeth covered her mouth with small hands as a giggle threatened to escape.

Thalia's hand reached blindly for her sword as she made a show of her 'pain,' and then she was on her feet again. Luke, unarmed, pouted as the tip of her blade came close to his neck, holding him in place.

Thalia laughed, wiping the sweat from her brow and shaking her cropped hair from her face. "And she comes out on top once again! Can I get a round of applause from our lovely audience?"

Annabeth clapped for her friend's win, smiling. She watched as Luke sighed and used his forefinger to move the tip of Thalia's blade away from himself.

"Oh, yeah. Sure. That's what I get for being a compassionate, caring friend."

Thalia sheathed her sword, nodding sagely. "Precisely. You lot are scarce--the ones that care blindly for others. We could use more of you, I suppose, but that doesn't mean I won't use it against you."

Luke shook his head but he was smiling. "Ah, well. It is what it is. You know what I think?"

Annabeth bit her lip when he fixed his eyes on her. Please say it, please say it. . .

"I think we should get our little princess inside before she gets her clothes dirty."

Annabeth deflated as Thalia agreed. "But. . .can't I fight, too?"

Luke held up his sword. "What, with these things? I'm not sure we're even allowed to let you this close to one in the first place."

"Ah, let her give it a go," Thalia said, shrugging. "A princess ought to know how to defend herself, right?"

Annabeth jumped to her feet eagerly. The two girls faced Luke with equally convincing looks of persuasion, and Luke grumbled his relent. He moved behind her and gently placed the blade into her soft, undamaged hands, adjusting her stance as he did so. As soon as he let go, though, she stumbled from the unexpected weight in her thin arms.

Luke caught her before she fell, laughing. "Little heavy, huh? Hm. . .try this."

Annabeth accepted the long dagger with extra care, inspecting every inch of the weapon as if to make sure it was good enough for her. There was a golden hue on her pale palms where the bronze blade reflected the sunlight and she made sure the sharp tip was facing away from her body. Hesitantly at first, and then with more confidence at the urging of her older friends, she shifted the weapon to one hand and gripped the hilt. It fit perfectly, she thought, though she was unaware she'd have to grow into it a little.

"That's better," Luke said. He and Thalia shared a smile. "That's perfect, actually."

"Now don't tell anyone we're the ones that let you have it," Thalia whispered. She laughed and waved, retreating as someone called for her across the yard.

"It'll save your life, you know." Luke knelt down so they reached the same height. "It's yours now."

"Mine?" she whispered, running her fingers over the leather-wrapped hilt.

"All yours," Luke agreed. "Take good care of it."

She looked up at him, chewing on her lip. "It'll save my life?"

"It'll save your life a hundred times. See you around, princess."

Seven-year-old Annabeth stood in the middle of the courtyard alone, just short of the shade cast by the large tree. She couldn't take her eyes off of her newfound lifeline, maybe her favorite thing she owned, now.

"Thank you," she told the wind, for her companions had left long ago, and Annabeth remained in that spot for long after.

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Annabeth looked down at her hands now. They were rough and practiced, well acquainted with hard work and toil. 

She was the princess, after all. 

She ought to know how to defend herself.