"One day, you will become the finest queen this land has ever seen. . .right? Right."

Annabeth shook her head. Never before in her life had she been so defiant of fate. Things came and went and she had always accepted that.

But she didn't want Thalia to go.

"Not without you," she sobbed, pulling her friend's fallen form closer. "Not without you."

Thalia used her dwindling strength to push Annabeth gently away so that she could meet her eyes. "With or without me, Annabeth."

Annabeth could barely see her friend's dying face through her blur of tears and a haze of disbelief. "No, Thalia, no. You're dying for nothing--I don't want to inherit that twisted throne! I want to be free, I want to live! You--you can't do this. . ."

Thalia gripped her hand tighter. There was a sense of urgency in that grip, but she spoke calmly, as if she weren't in any rush. "Annabeth. . ."

Her blond curls brushed against Thalia's chest as she looked up--ever still defiant but unable to deny hearing her companion's last words; because that was what these were.

Thalia was dying.

"Your Highness. . .there is no one else that I would rather die for."

Annabeth's body racked with another sob, and she dropped her head into Thalia's hard, useless chest plate. "Not me, Thalia. . .not me."

"Do what you wish with my sacrifice. But, Annabeth. . ." Her grip ran up her arm and she forced Annabeth's attention onto her. "Make it good. Make it. . .spectacular."

Annabeth cried harder than she ever had as she listened to every word Thalia had to say.

"Prove them wrong."

Don't die.

"Work harder than anyone."

Please.

"Don't you dare go easily. . .you hear me?" Thalia finally let her eyes fall closed. "Fight, Annie. Fight. Always. . .fight."

"Please, Thalia, please. . ."

"Good luck. . .Your Highness."

__________________♕_________________

Annabeth sighed as she drew her hair back into the most secure bun she could manage without her handmaidens. She twisted to see it on her reflection--a few curls had escaped already and were forming mishappen lumps.

"It'll have to do," she muttered, removing the last of the hairpins from between her teeth and hiding it beneath heaps of hair. "For now, at least."

It felt incredibly nice to be free of the dresses she'd been rotating through that day; the heavy scarlet one for brunch before a more casual (but no less uncomfortable) golden sun gown she'd worn for an afternoon on the lawn. Annabeth had always hated the sort of dresscode that was expected of her--as if she didn't live in the largest structure in the entire land, she had to prove it with wealthy wear that practically screamed prestige.

She straightened with one last look at herself. She'd ditched the fancy dress intended for dinner that night and dressed herself in something largely more moveable and casual.

Something she wouldn't be spotted in.

Princess Annabeth was leaving.

She'd memorized the guard rounds and knew the grounds by heart (those lengthy walks for "fresh air" were rather helpful in that aspect) and was as prepared as one could be to leave everything they knew behind.

And now she was getting rid of that plaguing hesitation that had clung onto her plans for so long.

Tonight was the night.

She left her candlelight on low when she slipped out the door. Annabeth stuck to the shadows as best she could, but it was only extra precaution--she knew where every guard's eyes would be, and when they would be there. It all came down to timing.

Annabeth told no one. There wasn't a person in the kingdom alive who could know of her true intentions and wishes all of these years. No one.

How could she have forgotten him?

Luke grabbed her arm as she attempted to flit silently by an archway. She stifled a yelp before she could give her position away.

"What are you doing?"

"Let go of me, Luke." She didn't spare him a glance or even turn to identify him as she spoke. "Let me go and keep quiet for the rest of the night."

Luke didn't release her, but his grip loosened gradually.

"You're leaving," he said.

"No, I'm not. I'm on my way to dinner, yes? That's all you need to know."

Luke let go of her arm, but something told Annabeth she wouldn't get very far if she tried to leave. The conversation wasn't over.

"You're just. . .going to go?" She was thankful he kept his voice low. "Just like that? You didn't even give me a warning."

Annabeth sighed, feeling a part of her relent. She turned to face him. "Luke, you're a member of the castle guard. You're the very last person I should be expected to tell."

"So you're serious," he said, tilting his head. He furrowed his brow. "Annabeth. . .I know you don't want to hear this from me, but please. Reconsider."

Annabeth pressed her eyes closed and released a tight breath. She knew this would happen, she'd expected it to.

It was the exact reason her plan involved avoiding everyone she actually cared for in her escape. Because if not, she might not be able to go through with it.

But I will. This time, I will.

"I'm sorry." She didn't let an ounce of apology leak into her apology. She wouldn't be sorry. This was a choice she was making for a life free of regrets, not to carry them. "But I must leave. Goodbye, Luke."

She only got so far before he grabbed her again, reaching for her forearm. Her back was turned on him, but each of them could imagine the other's face.

"Annabeth--Annie--You really can't do this. Remember. . ." he sighed. "Remember Thalia?"

She flinched.

Luke pressed on, though there was no way he could have missed her reaction. "She wouldn't want this. She. . .gods, don't you remember, Annabeth? She died so that you could live as queen one day. You know that, right?"

It was silent, bone-chillingly so, for much too long.

Annabeth wrenched her hand from his grip. She didn't turn. "Of course I know that."

Luke didn't respond. She paused to check her bag was secure on her back before she made to set off again, head held high.

"Goodbye, Luke."

__________________♕_________________

Princess Annabeth of Olympus had never been late for supper.

Apparently, her absence at the dining table was concerning in itself. She'd only just slipped past the very last of castle territory and entered the village when the unmistakable footsteps of a guard round resounded off of the nearest houses. Annabeth threw up the cowl on her head and pressed herself against the side of the closest structure, only leaning over slightly to allow herself a view of the village guards.

Villagers went about their business as the armored figures moved past them, but Annabeth noted their stiff movements. Children were huddled along in a rush, clothes were straightened, artificial smiles were exchanged, and the buzz of the marketplace faded into an organized, rigid go-about that made Annabeth uncomfortable.

She knew why. Those of lesser power had, in turn, less of a voice. It was the social structure she despised so, the reason she found herself alone and disguised in her own village. One step out of line and you would be reprimanded--no due process. No fair trials. 

"We care for them," her father would say. "We do. But, ultimately, we are in charge. If we cannot prove it, then there is no order."

She might not have cared if she weren't born into the royal family. Because then, things would simply be the way they were. She wouldn't wish for change because there was no such thing.

But as the princess, she had a voice.

And even then, Annabeth couldn't make a difference.

If running away made her a coward, then so be it. But she would not stand for what she did not believe. No one could have that kind of power over her.

As the patrol rounded the far corner, Annabeth flattened her back against the wall and released a breath. She did it. She was out. 

That was as far as her plan went.

Annabeth was a thorough person, not to be misunderstood. But she couldn't plan for something she couldn't see, couldn't even guess on. Village life was far from what she was used to. She wasn't sure where to go next. What could a girl of royal blood do? Make a living off of curtsies and raised pinkies?

She could fight or hunt if needed, but for a lady that was inappropriate for everywhere except the castle guard.

"What am I doing?" Annabeth murmured, bringing a hand to her forehead. She could only hide for so long. Someone was bound to recognize her if she tried for a job, and then she'd find herself right back where she started.

But she couldn't go back. She wouldn't.

"Oi, Miss? What are you doing back here?"

Annabeth started and dropped her hand, glancing up. There was a lone guard standing only a few feet away, eyebrow raised as he studied her. He was large and sturdy and far too recognizable, and Annabeth quickly looked down.

She couldn't recall his name, but that didn't change the fact that she knew this man. He used to patrol the gardens when she was a child--the one that never told on her for having a dagger or playing with older kids.

"Miss? Are you alright?"

Annabeth cleared her throat. "Uh--er, yes, I'm just fine. Why do you ask?"

The guard tilted his head. "Hm. Well, it's much too warm out here for that coat of yours, ma'am. But I suppose--to each their own. Are you headed off somewhere?"

Samuel. Annabeth remembered him as Samuel, the nice man from the gardens. "Just for some--" she pulled the first thing that came to her mind, "bread, sir. Some fresh bread for my, uh, hardworking husband. Yes, that's right. He'll be rejoicing if he comes home to bread and butter on the table, the simple man. . ."

She stopped, realizing she was spinning a weave of lies far too big for her own good. She hadn't even needed such a complex story. People bought bread all the time, simple as that.

"You don't make it yourself?" Samuel grunted, setting his hands on his hips. "Huh. My wife makes all the bread at our place. . .Well, I'll let you be off then. Be safe on the streets, Miss."

"Will do," she said a little too quickly, turning to leave. Just as she was about to round the corner, feeling Samuel's eyes in the back of her head, two young children came running around the corner, laughing and tripping over each other. The smallest rammed straight into Annabeth's unsuspecting legs and she lost balance, tumbling to her backside.

The child blinked up at her with innocent eyes. Then he stood, brushed himself off, and resumed his laughing as he left again with the other boy.

"Not even an apology," Annabeth muttered, pushing herself to her feet.

"Uh, Miss, your hood--"

Annabeth should not have turned. Samuel's eyebrows rose and at that exact moment, his guard friends decided to round the corner as they doubled back.

Schist.

a/n 

schist indeed. it is coming to my attention that i'm writing a full-blown story here with no clue of where i'm actually going lol. welp. guess we'll know when it ends. 

"where's percyyyyy?"

even if you guys aren't wondering, i sure am. *taps watch* he was supposed to be here a while ago smh.

i don't even have a watch.

hope you enjoyed! <3

(also arcade happened to be playing when i wrote thalia's death scene [also unplanned] and it actually made me really sad like-- that song is powerful i swear.)