previously. . .

"Please, Thalia, please. . ."

"Good luck. . .Your Highness."

.

"Goodbye, Luke."

.

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.

__________________♕_________________

She'd been away from the castle for less than a half-hour, and she was already caught.

Was this all her life amounted to? Sneaking out once only to be caught merely minutes later? 

It was utterly depressing.

"Princess. . .?"

Annabeth--who was known to be swift and curt with her words, saying what needed to be said when it needed to be said--couldn't find it in herself to speak as she reached up to pull the cowl back over her head. What do I do? Give up now? Say I was lost?

I already lied to him. There's no way he'll believe me. 

She cleared her throat. "I'm sorry, I--"

"That's her, that's the princess alright." Samuel's younger companion shielded his eyes from the sun as he spoke, squinting to get a better look. "If I've ever seen her--and I have, mind you. I used to work my shifts right in the dining hall. I know that hair anywhere."

Annabeth looked between the two men. She sent what she hoped was a pleading look to Samuel, attempting to call on his old weakness. But she was no longer the young girl who played out in the fields and threw knives at dummies in the courtyard, and Samuel, of course, had a higher duty to the kingdom.

"This is an unfortunate position I find myself in," Samuel said gruffly, rubbing the back of his neck. But Annabeth saw it, because just as she wasn't the little girl with the dagger from before, she also wasn't the naive, hopeful small thing that saw the good and the good only. Her old guard friend had signaled his counterparts, and Annabeth knew she wouldn't be able to leave if she tried to escape.

"I suppose you aren't supposed to be out and about here, no?" Samuel looked around. "I don't seem to remember you having a bread-loving husband, Your Highness."

"You must be forgetful," she said, straightening her clothing. "Those kinds of things come with old age."

The younger guard glanced between them.

Samuel shifted. "I'm sorry, Princess Annabeth, but I believe it's time to get you back where you belong. Come along quietly now and we'll get you in without a peep."

Annabeth felt her heart race pick up. I don't want to go back.

"Er, sir?" The younger one turned to face his partner. "Do we. . .have the right to order her around? I mean--she is royalty."

"And we are royal guards that answer to the king, and I'm sure he would like his daughter back in her bedroom before sundown." Samuel also turned to face the boy. "Is that alright with you, Thomas? The king has a higher order than our princess here, whatever her plans might be. You'd do well to remember that--"

"But sir--"

"No, I'm teaching you something important. How to make decisions like this. If there's ever a time when you're alone and faced with something like this, I--"

"Sir please--"

"I'm going to have to teach you some manners too while you're with me--"

"Samuel!" The use of his superior's first name seemed to catch his attention, finally. "Sorry, sir, but she's slipped away."

Samuel turned slower than he should've, because losing a rogue royal was really the last thing he needed to bring to the king and queen. But young Thomas was right, and poor Samuel (who was just trying to do his job) found nothing but a few scattered leaves where the girl had been.

". . .Sir? Are you mad?"

Samuel sighed.

__________________♕_________________

Annabeth thought that maybe, if she had really stretched her brain and took some chances, she could've escaped those guards.

She probably could have. All by herself. It had been the only option, anyways. Escape right then, with no help, or let them take her back.

But she'd had help.

It turned out the wall Annabeth had pressed herself against was more of a half-wall. She was cornered by castle guards--but only by ground means. She'd been watching the men argue and took the opportunity to work out a plan, but her thoughts were interrupted when she felt a tap on her right shoulder.

She turned, craning her neck to see on top of the stone. It was a man, she could tell that much, but--much like her--he wore a dark hood to cover any prominent features. Annabeth watched curiously as he extended a hand to her. 

Maybe if she hadn't been desperate, she wouldn't have taken his hand in that moment. She would have turned, reported his activity as suspicious to the guards and let them take her back without a fuss or word to her parents. But she had been desperate, and hindsight was a dangerous game anyhow.

Annabeth reached up and took his hand. This is stupid. He grasped her arm with the gentlest but most secure grip she'd ever felt and held her steady until she gained a footing on the wall. Why I am doing this? Then he hauled her up and she was next to him, on top of the stone. The guards were still at it, but the shorter one noticed she was gone.

"Come on."

His voice was a whisper that brushed against her ear. It was quiet but firm, only for her to hear. He nodded, and Annabeth could picture a comical smirk on his mystery face before he suddenly cleared the fabric of his cloak out of his way and launched himself off of the stone slab. 

Annabeth hesitated only a second before following, landing almost silently in the dusty pebbles. He'd waited for her, standing at the foot of the wall. She watched him, waiting for some kind of introduction or for him to throw his hood back dramatically with a bow, but he stood still, head tilted slightly away from her.

Listening, she realized. He's listening.

And maybe she could have left him then with only a quick thank you for help out of a tough spot and gone off on her own. But the truth was--and she came to realize it in that moment--she needed help. And if he could get her far away from the guards and any traces of her presence there, she would be grateful. Then she could leave this stranger and get on with her life.

"They'll head west," he said quietly, leaning down for her to hear. He was much taller than her, she noticed. "They haven't considered that you're on the other side of the wall."

"What does that mean?" Annabeth whispered back, resisting the urge to peek around the wall to confirm his guess.

"It means. . ." Mystery Man reached out and adjusted her hood so that the last of her curls couldn't be seen. "We head east."

He looked at her. (Or, at least, he seemed to. It was hard for Annabeth to tell with the shadows cast across his face.) Then he reached down, grabbed her hand, and took off running.

She waited until the voices of the guards faded into the wind whipping against her ears, threatening to bring her hood down and snatch away her cloak. Her bag thumped against her back with each pounding step and it didn't take Annabeth long to realize she didn't know a thing about this man. She stopped abruptly (and he kept going, almost taking her arm with him), breathing heavily.

"Wait," Annabeth breathed, "wait."

He stopped. Her hand was left in his as he cocked his head.

"I get that I'm being reckless," Annabeth began, talking mostly to herself. "I know being here is crazy in and of itself, but I--I can't just run away with some man. That's an entirely different story and surely not the one I plan to tell."

He laughed. Laughed. As if he found a princess on the side of the road every day and decided to whisk her away to--to wherever it was that they were.

Annabeth drew herself away from her thoughts to finally take a look around. He'd led her through the village at a pace that hadn't allowed her to observe the place and people her family ruled, but now that they'd stopped she could tell the area was different from where she'd been discovered. The houses had become more scattered about until there weren't any of them--but there weren't any market stands either. The buildings were square and tall, and she could make out some sign or other, a symbol marking each doorway with its proper name. The sky was blocked by roofs and netted canopies so the dimming light was reduced even less. 

Villagers could be seen going about their business, but they weren't breadmakers or carpenters. In fact, Annabeth couldn't place one of them into any sort of group she'd seen before. A man passed by them who wore an eyepatch, and a slim woman entered a building with a slight limp.

Annabeth swallowed. The comfort and warmth she hadn't even realized she'd been feeling earlier in the village evaporated in her chest and she felt insecure suddenly, exposed.

The man released her hand. "Although we could've gone a bit farther, this'll do. You stopped me with perfect timing, princess."

Annabeth wanted to scold him for throwing around her title so carelessly out in the open but he reached up then, and she watched as he pulled the hood down from his face. The lightest breeze tickled her ankles and ruffled his hair--his dark, midnight hair that was already tousled enough without the wind's help. His cheeks were rosy from the cold bite of the air, a stark contrast to his surprisingly light skin. But Annabeth could overlook all of those things, because what she saw most was his eyes.

They were green, but nothing like the leaves in spring or the grass in the gardens. It wasn't the green she used to see in Thalia's color-changing eyes, nor the green on the deepest emerald she'd find on a tiara. His eyes were like the sea--but not the deep, bluish sea she could see out of the windows in the library back at the castle--no, more like the very end of a wave as it crashed onto the shore. The bubbling, fizzing ocean water that kissed the sand and then receded. His eyes were like the pearls the tide often brought with it and Annabeth couldn't find it in herself to look away because she'd never seen such a shade of green before.

"Let's get off the street," he said abruptly, breaking the trance she didn't even know she'd been in. "If our pursuers were to find us here, it wouldn't be good."

Annabeth paused at his words, falling into step behind him. "'Our' pursuers? Does that mean you're on the run from castle guards as well?" She thought for a moment. "Wouldn't that make you a criminal? What crimes have you committed to find yourself on their watch list?"

He glanced back at her, giving Annabeth a glimpse of his green eyes once again. "Only snatching princesses from under their noses."

Annabeth snorted, accepting his hand as they crossed over a small river on a single plank of wood. "Oh? So this happens often, then."

"But of course!" He turned again, leading her further into the drab, unknown territory. "I suppose you'll want the name of your savior, yeah?"

She frowned, forgetting his words and her answer for a moment. He was leading her into. . .an inn?

"Guess not," he muttered, opening the door for her. Annabeth's senses were overwhelmed with fire warmth and the sweet smell of whatever drink they sold inside. There were only a few people in the front room as they entered, all men. They were relaxed, unperturbed by the new arrivals as they drank and ate in comfortable silence.

"This way," her raven-haired companion murmured, reaching for her hand again. Annabeth didn't pull away--she didn't know why she didn't pull away--and he led her to the back wall of the room where another door awaited them.

"Where are we going?"

"Home," he said simply, fondly, and Annabeth believed him.

I suppose this is why I'm not allowed to leave my room without being watched, the princess mused.  I trust far too easily.

"It's Percy, by the way. Percy Jackson. Not Perseus. Not Jackson. Percy is good."

Annabeth wasn't listening, and thus only really heard 'Perseus.' She was paying more attention to their surroundings than to putting a name to his face. He led her into what seemed like a hallway, closed off and cold. Annabeth's breath caught in her throat not from the dust but from the small spider crawling up the wall to their right.

Percy followed her gaze, releasing her hand and reaching up to ruffle his hair. "So the fearless princess of Olympus is afraid of spiders? Seems fitting."

She couldn't deny it. Annabeth had been deathly terrified of the eight-legged creatures since she was young. It was her most obvious weakness, as Thalia used to say. She shrugged, letting his comment roll off her shoulders.

"Alright," Percy said shortly, stopping and setting his hands on his hips. "Here we are. Home."

Annabeth stared at the grand dead end in front of them, beginning to rethink her choice of allowing him to drag her here.

"It's a wall."

Percy laughed, smooth and sweet. Like honey, Annabeth thought. He shooed her away, forcing her back a few steps and gesturing widely with his arms. "You just have to know where to look." He winked, kneeling down.

Annabeth glanced to her feet. Huh. There was a large trapdoor where she'd been standing, hiding in plain sight. She knelt herself as Percy hefted it up by the heavy iron hinge and flipped it onto its backside. It collided with the uneven ground with a thud.

"It's just a short drop," Percy said, noticing her glance down. "I can go first if you want, and catch--"

He stopped as she braced herself on either side and hopped down, landing gracefully in the dirt below.

Percy looked up to nobody. "Huh." Then he shrugged, unclasped his cloak, and followed her through.

a/n

hi!

i hope you enjoyed ヽ(*ﾟｰﾟ*)ﾉ

who do you like better so far? determined princess annabeth, or dashing peasant percy? (he's not necessarily a peasant lol it just sounded nicer)

stay tuned for part four :3