Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Gentle waves rocked the Royal Flagship, a school of fishes playing around the wood submerged in the ocean. He smiled, watching them jump from wave to wave.

The salty air breezed through his curls as he leaned on the railings, basking under the sun's rays as the wind got more and more biting with each hour passed.

Percy sighed and threw his head back, the collar of his shirt fluttering around his neck.

"The sea is infinitely better than the stuffy court life, isn't it?" A chuckling sound behind his back made him jump.

"Dad!"

His father grinned back at him, his dark and silver hair whipping with the wind. Poseidon's beige shirt was even looser than Percy’s own blue one, his sleeves rolled up and crown nowhere in sight.

"Getting away from all those," his dad scrunched up his face, "overbearing nobles would be good for both us."

Percy let out a laugh. His father always seemed to freshen up at least a decade every time he was near the sea.

"If even the King of Atlantis is saying that, father, how do you expect me to want to succeed you?" He teased.

"You're doing a good job, I assure you." Poseidon's eyes softened, one hand clasping Percy’s shoulder, "Far better than I did at your age."

Something lodged inside his throat, he averted his eyes, "Right. Seven assassination attempts in one year. One almost successful. I'm doing great."

The last one had took place inside his chambers. If it hadn't been for Alabaster's restless fits, the assassin would had—

Percy would had never forgiven himself if either Annabeth or Alabaster had gotten hurt because of him.

His father drew him into a hug, "Maybe we should get you a tastetester. Up the guards too."

"I'm fine, father." Percy mumbled, the mental image of his wife and the man who could have been his husband in a kinder world flashing in front of his eyes, "No need."

They would had been distraught if Percy got what little privacy they had limited.

"Very well." A smile tugged at Poseidon's lips as he shook his head. "Though, will you be alright?"

"I— Yes, of course." Percy blinked. "I know how to protect myself."

"I meant in Epirus, Perseus."

To his shame, he made a very intelligent sound of confusion that consisted of blubber and sputter.

"Of course." Percy started, before pausing.

"I fear that you will not be received well," Poseidon moved next to him, gripping the railings and staring at the horizon. "You led the final charge upon their palace, was the last person to talk to their queen."

"Then they will be within their rights to not receive me well," Percy frowned.

"You did a commendable job during the war," His father grinned, "Do not let your enemies's perception of you colour the one you have on yourself."

"I'll keep that in mind, father," He averted his eyes.

"And," His father's voice lowered, as if he was approaching a wounded animal, "if the memories of battlefield becomes too much— You can confide in me, if the need arises."

"Thanks," Percy slumped, struggling to breathe, "Thank you, dad."

"We'll be reaching Epirus soon enough." Poseidon patted his back, "This is a diplomatic trip but do try to take in the scenery, will you?"

Percy huffed a laugh, nodding, "Speaking of Epirus, where is...?"

"In your cabin with your wife." Poseidon's grin took a sharp edge, a dark glint sparking in his amused gaze, then he repeated, "We are about to dock."

"That's why I want to find them," Percy tried to fix his hair as he walked across the deck, waving his father off.

Both of them were seated on simple wooden stools inside their cabin. Annabeth was hunched over a bucket, one hand pressed tight against her mouth and the other digging her nails in Alabaster's palm. Her jewellery was discarded somewhere along the mess of bags littering the floor, her fan for some reason sticking out of the curls of her bun. She would had probably rest her head on Alabaster's lap, if she weren't on the verge of puking.

Though they weren't alone, as a group of servants were meticulously fluffing up and pulling and twisting around Alabaster's hair.

Percy winced in sympathy. Alabaster sat stiffly at the edge of his seat, fingers curled over Annabeth’s hand as he tried to keep his head straight despite the amount of directions it was being yanked over. Silken ribbons squeezed the flimsy fabric of his sleeves around his biceps and wrists, elaborate lacework surrounding his shoulders and collar. A gem-embroidered waistcoat hid the most of the complex design, however, and the corset he wore.

"Hi Percy," Annabeth weakly wiggled her fingers in an approximation of a wave.

He smiled, waving back.

Alabaster kept staring ahead, green eyes glossed over like smooth glass, an empty look behind them.

Percy would had thought he had disappeared into the sanctuary of his own mind yet again, if he hadn't jolted in place mere seconds after. Alabaster sent a tired nod of acknowledgement his way, "Perseus."

He always seemed to be tired nowadays.

"Shall I save you from getting decorated?" Percy leant on the wall, arms crossed.

"Please," Alabaster exhaled.

"B-but Your Highness!" One of the servants wrung his hands, gesturing Alabaster's hair to Percy, "His hair— It will loosen—"

"If it will loosen with all the pins you've placed, then clearly you can't do your job," Annabeth scoffed, "What are we paying you for?"

The man froze on spot, a panicked and embarrassed apology slipping out of his lips before he hastily fled the cabin, the others following him almost immediately.

Percy raised an amused eyebrow at his wife, offering his hand to Alabaster, who was rolling his eyes. "Are you coming?"

"In a minute," Annabeth looked positively green as she retched and hugged the bucket close.

Percy gently pulled her fan out of her hair, placing it on a pile of expensive dresses before he kissed her forehead.

The clouds had muddied the bright blue sky when he got out on deck again with Alabaster in hand. The shadows of mountains rested just beneath the horizon.

Epirus.

Alabaster's homeland.

The kingdom Percy played part in utterly fucking over.

The first anniversary of the war's end came faster than any of them could imagine; amidst all the ensuing succession crisis, the fanfare associated with court, the constant need to check over his shoulder at every step and learning the ropes of politics from the two people that might have actually been tricking him towards ruin. Soon enough, the Olympian Alliance would be meeting Epirus, Hypnos and their allies for a renegotiation of the peace treaty in the lands Empress Athena took guardianship of. Like sharks to bloodied water, descending upon the newly of age queen.

His father would be using the opportunity to introduce him to the nobility of the allied kingdoms, of that he was sure.

At least he got out of the palace. That was something.

Alabaster slipped his hand out of his to grip the railings, taking a deep breath as if it was his first ever.

Percy awkwardly shuffled next to him, his heart skipping a beat. Right. What right did he have to lament about being confined to the palace, when Alabaster was actually confined to the palace?

"Do you think I'd sink to the bottom of the sea from the weight on my head if I jumped?" Alabaster craned his neck.

He flinched, "Please don't try that."

Alabaster huffed, the ornaments in his hair gleaming under the midday sun. Gold and silver threads were braided into his pin-up. Corals made of thin metal bands were woven through his brown strands, intricate and colourful glass-blown flowers sprouting from the corals. The way it was all arranged, Percy couldn't help but think it was supposed to resemble a crown.

"I won't." An assortment of jewels and pearls strung down past his jaw like tassels, "Your father would find a way to drag me back to life, anyway."

Percy squeezed his hand, "You will be hardly seeing him for the whole week."

"It's going to be so boring though!" Alabaster whined, "Triton will be busy too, I won't have anyone to play chess with."

"Since when do you talk?" Percy grumbled.

Ever since Triton and his failed assassination attempt, Alabaster had weirdly gotten into the habit of monthly plays of boardgames with his brother, along with squabbling in front of court much to the Royal family's dismay and the entertainment of the rest.

He should probably be more concerned of them conspiring than he was.

Alabaster only tilted his head further, leaning in to block Percy against the railings, "Jealous, your Highness? I mean, of course, you can always lock me up in your chambers. Tie me to—"

"Jewel!" Flustered, he shoved Alabaster off, running a hand front of his face, "You read an unnecessary amount of romance books."

Crimson dusted Alabaster's cheeks, "The library has a nice collection."

"I suppose," Percy sighed, brushing his thumb on his cheekbones. "The priestesses of Venus keep that section well stocked."

Alabaster hummed, gazing at him through lowered eyelashes when a melodic voice rang behind them. "And are plotting to overthrow their adulterous king, I bet."

Percy turned his head to see Annabeth striding towards them, cream and silver flowing and encircling the dusky blue fabric of her dress; face still paled a little bit.

"Priests don't hold as much as sway as in Atlantis compared to Sthenias." He snapped his fingers, "And I still don't buy the whole descendent of the gods thing your family has going on."

Annabeth smirked, shrugging, "Think as you wish. Won't change the fact that Minerva and Bellona favours us. Pass him to me?"

Percy complied, pushing Alabaster gently into her arms. Annabeth wrapped her arms around his torso, flicking one of the dangling flowers with two fingers. "Lilies?"

"Strangler root," Alabaster answered, "Boil their flowers and you get a remedy against the cold, boil the roots and your throat will swell until you can no longer eat, drink or breathe."

Percy raised his brows, well that explained the name. But not the reason why Alabaster would be permitted to be near even a replica of a plant like this.

"They're endemic to Epirus," Alabaster balled his fists.

They exchanged looks over his head. Annabeth kissed Alabaster's cheek, breathing softly, "Are you excited?"

The waves crashed loudly against the ship.

Alabaster blinked blearily a few times, before a scowl crossed over his face and he stepped forward. "I need to pack your bags."

Annabeth took Percy’s arm, after Alabaster had disappeared, resting her head on his shoulder.

"I'm worried about him," she murmured.

If Alabaster had been a raging wildfire when they had met, then what remained a year later was the shadow of a doused candle flame, threatening to snuff out completely.

Percy had hoped restricting Alabaster's frankly excessive amount of alcohol consumption would be enough to help.

"I am too," He whispered while the ship lurched forward towards the docks.

Nobility could trot around, hoist themselves up the commoners in this world and the next as much as they wanted. It didn't change the truth that whenever an assembly like this happened, they showed their bared faces. Shouting and throwing orders around, hobbling down the ships onto the docks and stumbling into whoever was in their way without care. Their entourage tripping over their own feet and mingling until no kingdom could be distinguished from one another. Bags and suitcases and cargos flooding everyone's sight.

Alabaster had never been to a common market, though he could imagine the uproar wouldn't be much different.

From the corner of his eye, from where he was between Perseus and Annabeth, he could see Delphi and Maia. Queen Demeter and King Hades missing as per usual, Empress Athena too, shockingly. High King Zeus deemed to not 'grace' other kingdoms whenever he was asked so, instead choosing to pursue military achievements to the east of his kingdom and send in his demands with a missile later; his absence was expected.

And across them, steady like a castle, his beloved sister stood.

A cry stabbed at the back of his throat, begging to be let out, begging him to run and embrace her. His eyes lingered at the bejewelled crown on top of her head, the one that once belonged to their mother. Her curls poked out behind her velvet veil, gems embroidered at the hems of both that and the dress she wore of the same material.

He had missed Lou's coronation, and her eighteenth day of birth.

Traditionally, a family member would had accompanied the royal child to the top of the highest mountain on their coming of age.

Lou Ellen's had been spent alone, in sorrow and fear, no doubt.

Mechanical roaring and a billow of smoke painting the entire sky black dragged his attention to the ship approaching the harbour. A beast made of metal and pipes, vomiting charcoal vapour to the clouds as Chalceus threw their anchor down.

"Oh my gods," Perseus gasped next to him, eyes wide with wonder and flicking between the sails of the Atlantean Royal Flagship and the long narrow chimney attached to Chalceus's ship.

"King Hephaestus and Queen Aphrodite," Annabeth noted, pointing her fan at the lavishly dressed couple who effortlessly slotted themselves into the crowd.

"They haven't left behind Chancellor Ares to rule the country, have they?" Alabaster asked, lips quirking in amusement.

"Why, is that a bad thing?" Perseus asked.

"Oh just that Aphrodite is openly having an affair with the Lord." Alabaster inspected his nails: well kept and trimmed short, of course. He might had lost his dignity, but not that much.

Perseus's eyes almost bulged out of their sockets, while he whipped his head around to stare at Aphrodite, her laugh chiming like bells as she playfully swatted a hand to her husband's chest.

Behind him, Annabeth made a choking sound; Alabaster followed her gaze only to fall into a coughing fit himself once he saw what, or rather, whom she was staring at.

"Are you two..?" Perseus asked.

"Delphi." Annabeth balked.

"What?"

Alabaster buried his face on Perseus's shoulder, to save himself from the view. Silver fabric draped down the figure of Queen Lady Artemis, fastened with iron belts and buckles and brooches, a midnight shade veil attached to the back of her crown and falling on her dark hair, her braided bangs striped by a ginger colour. Next to her, a boy with a simple saffron yellow tunic on was bouncing on his toes.

Gods. What kind of royalty showed this much skin? Knees, ankles and elbows out... who had let them?

Perseus threw a glance at the Delphi delegation, snorted, "Both of you are so red right now, I wish I had a mirror with me. You've seen worse."

"Not in public!" Annabeth hissed, aggressively fanning her face.

"Fan me too," Alabaster pressed his face farther into the shoulder. They laughed at him, Annabeth linking her arm with his.

He was about to snipe, before he noticed the burning glare King Poseidon was sending his way.

In fact, he wasn't the only one with eyes on Alabaster, now that the fanfare had calmed down. Queen Aphrodite was giggling with her hand covering her mouth, Lord Hermes smirking. Queen Lady Artemis had moved to place herself between him and her companion, as if she didn't want him to see Alabaster.

Alabaster was a prey soon to be dead, and the vultures were soaring around him; waiting so that they could pick apart his carcass. The gazes were pinning him to his place, roaming his figure, the way he clung to the Atlantis's heir and his wife. The way the jewellery on his head bore into his skull, weighing his head down. The diaphanous fabric of his sleeves, the silhouette of his arms.

Why couldn't Proserpina and Trivia open up the ground so it would swallow him, hide him from the leering eyes in her embrace?

The feeling of utter nakedness washed over him, the concept of his personhood stripped bare and open to judgement.

His lungs filled with shame, until no place for air was left.

Had they had brought him along just so his sister could see how far Epirus could fall even further?

The kitchens of the Royal Palace of Epirus used to decorate whatever he had hunted with fruits and flowers before serving it on a silver platter, so that it could be eaten clean to bones.

Alabaster didn't want his sister to see him, not when he was nothing more than a decorated piece of meat.

"Welcome!" Lou Ellen's voice echoed, "Epirus is honoured to host all of her esteemed guests!"

Whatever else she had said drowned inside the ringing of his ears. Her eyes were fixated on him, horror embedded to her blown pupils. Her spine was ramrod straight, her jaw set tight; though none of the regal posturing of a ruling queen could hide the wobbling of his little sister's lower lip or the shaking of her clasped hands.

She hadn't been expecting him; Alabaster doubted Lady Palas, who currently was digging her nails into Lou's shoulder in an outrageous display, informed her that her brother too, would be coming with the delegates.

Which of their mother's children would be the one to faint first, he wondered.

Alabaster squeezed into the small carriage that would take them to the palace, rubbing his arms. From where he rested his head on the window, he threw a glance at the usual servants assigned to Annabeth and Perseus's bedchambers get in as well.

Annabeth had hugged him briefly and apologised for he couldn’t ride with them due to the carriages being small when Lou's speec was over and people had started their way to the Royal Palace.

As if he wanted to ride with the Atlantis royal family in the first place.

The sounds of horse hooves on gravel and hard packed dirt turned into a rhythmic melody, joining in the idle chatter of the people he had came to know of more and less in the passing year.

"The weather is so cold in here!" Margot, the young woman that was responsible for lighting the fireplace, blew into her clasped hands, wringing them together.

"Isn't it?" The man next to her with a red scarf said. "That's why they wear all these furs?"

"Probably," The blonde woman that was lounging her feet on the seat opposite to her and was pushing Alabaster against the door from the side shrugged, "But isn't it nice that we have almost the whole week off. We can see the sights. I've never been to outside the capital before."

"Oh yeah," Devere cracked a grin, nudging the blonde, "Not going to carry heavy water buckets for a whole week. Basins? Don't know 'em!"

"Aye Margot!" She called, "Don't you have a sister that married into the mountains? Can't she show us the locals?"

"Oh not sure," Margot sighed, "Her wife died in the Prince's armies."

The others whistled, exchanging condolences. Alabaster swallowed the lump in his throat, hands clenched tight around the fabric of his breeches. He didn't need to look to know they were staring at the said prince. Maybe if the thin trees lining up the road spontaneously combusted to fire they would stop.

He was a failure of a general, he knew that already.

"Ah is fine, we can find the roads ourselves." Margot waved, "I had gotten sick of ashes getting into my nose anyhow."

He continued to glare out of the window as they chatted loudly about what they would do, acutely aware of how his clothes were finer than all of theirs combined.

The Blonde lightly punched his shoulder, "Oh! Do you have the week—"

"No." Alabaster spat.

The carriage had quietened, the tension hanging low like fog. Red Scarf's sneer cut through it akin to a knife, "Oh well, it's not like you do anything but lay on your back, do you?"

Alabaster jolted, snapping his head to the man's direction.

"Oh dear Neptune!" Devere cried out, while Margot choked.

"What? I'm right!" Red Scarf threw his hands on the air, clutching tightly a little bag of cloth. "His Royalness doesn't even have the decency to move to the divan when I have to change sheets!"

Rage and humiliation stabbed through his heart.

"Hurley—" The Blonde hissed.

"Are their Highnesses going to execute me for telling the truth?" Red Scarf, now named Hurley, popped a roasted chestnut out of his bag. "Then so be it, Irene."

Irene huffed, shaking her head and glancing at Alabaster's way, "Where did you get the chestnuts even?"

"Stole them from the kitchens."

"Hurley!" Margot gasped, before she pinched the bridge of her nose. "At least give us some."

Alabaster wasn't offered any.

The carriage ride couldn't end fast enough. They had arrived earlier than the nobility; and ushered in through the servant's passageway. Alabaster had tried to not think of how the Mistress of Chamberkeeping that had showed them the bedrooms had been the apprentice of the previous one, the one that had served the Crown since his grandfather's reign. The old woman that used to chastise him about slamming doors had probably been executed.

He had dismissed Margot, Devere, Irene and Hurley; and the maids that were already working for the palace but he didn't recognise. He could unpack Perseus and Annabeth’s belongings himself, his own bags too.

Alabaster had just opened the suitcases and started to sort through the piles of courtly dresses when he froze. What was he doing? It's not like this was his job.

He was a gift, not a servant. Oh sure, the couple had rushed him to do their errands. But they would understand if he didn't want to do so. Possibly. Probably. He hadn't made an attempt at refusal yet.

He wheezed, clawing at his throat as he got up from where he knelt in the middle of the immaculately furnished room, stumbling towards the lounging nook in front of the windows. Alabaster collapsed upon the pillows, resting his forehead on the glass and trying to ignore the pounding of his head.

He didn't know how much time had passed when they had came to their chambers, whether it be a few minutes or hours, the time having had blurred together.

Perseus's loud cackles entered the room before he had. Annabeth mumbled something, throwing herself on the bed with a sigh.

"You know what I hate?" Annabeth groaned, "Seasickness."

He blinked furiously, staring towards the courtyard to see servants running from one place to the next while the other they were trying to settle in and joking with eachother.

This was his homeland. Then why did everything came across unfamiliar, why were he so unhappy? This was his home!

If Alabaster looked directly across the chambers they were given, he could see the wing of the palace that the royal family resided in. Lou would be just there, just out of reach. Had she taken their mother's chambers? Had Alabaster's own be left bare? A howl was squeezing around his windpipes, the urge to run to the other side of the palace crawling beneath his skin.

The way Lou looked at him was going to haunt him in his sleep.

She had been horrified.

His scalp was aching. A hundred and more tiny pinpricks booring through his flesh to his skull. He dug his nails into his hair, trying to breathe in and out.

A hand grasped his own.

Alabaster flinched, meeting Perseus's concern oozing from his sea-shade eyes, "Al? What's wrong?"

"Nothing." He murmured.

"I believe my wife has been calling you to bed for the past five minutes, Torrington."

Perseus lifted his chin, cupping his face between his palms. Alabaster leaned into his touch, pointing faintly out of the window. "That's where my childhood quarters is."

That's where my sister is, went unsaid.

"Oh, jewel." Perseus pressed his lips to his forehead, "Come here."

He let Perseus wrap his arms around his waist, and practically drag him to the bed. Alabaster melted into the soft fabric, only letting out a quiet whimper when one of the pins holding his hair together pressed into his scalp.

Annabeth rubbed her thumb on his cheekbone, "Need any help with those?"

He bit the inside of his cheek, lifting himself slightly as Annabeth positioned herself behind his head without waiting for an answer.

Her nimble fingers wove through his hair as if it was a loom, working out the ornaments one by one. "Gods, jewel. Your hair has gotten long."

Alabaster hummed in agreement, watching the pile of jewellery grow on the nightstand as she and Perseus gently took out all the pins, corals, flowers, pearls and whatnot. Their fingers carded through his hair, a warm caress that caused the tension to melt from his shoulders and neck.

He sighed, relieved.

"We're expected to attend a formal dinner," Perseus complained once Alabaster was ornament-free and had laid his head on his wife's lap.

"How awful for you," Alabaster rolled his eyes, flicking his tight, "Don't even try to get me to come along, it would be futile."

"You don't want to see your sister?" Perseus pressed his lips together, interweaving their fingers.

Alabaster stilled. He had just gotten his hair loose, going to the dinner would require him to pin it up again. And seeing Lou, after how she had looked at him as if he was his own corpse..?

Annabeth came to his rescue, pulling him to her chest as she laid down next to him, "We can take a short nap before that, though, can't we?"

A soft smile played on Perseus's lips as he cuddled close.

They would drift off to sleep soon, Alabaster no doubt settling into their embrace as he regularly had done for a year now.

For all Perseus and Annabeth couldn't help his situation, they were warm enough, even though they wouldn't be home.

Alabaster had missed that one.

They were already gone by the time he had woken up.

Alabaster yawned, jumping down the bed to stretch and groggily rubbed his eyes.

He should probably change to his nightclothes. At least the bags had been unpacked while they were asleep, so he would probably find his nightgown faster than otherwise.

The moon filtered through the windows and opening of the heavy curtains drawn. He had probably slept through dinner time, and the servants had brought it back down the kitchens.

A fast paced rap to the door drew his attention. He narrowed his eyes, flinging the doors open with head held high.

He almost screamed at the sight.

A woman his mother's age, with gray hair curled above her head and bottle thick round glasses attached with a thin piece of metal resting on her nose bridge stood at the doorway: His and Lou's old nursemaid. Eudora.

"Is it you?" He gasped, hands on his mouth.

"Your Highness," Eudora bowed her head, taking his hands into her own and guided him to sit on the mattress.

The last time he had seen Eudora, Alabaster had been nine and had just started his lessons on the art of poisoning by his mother. In fact, if his memory served right, that day had been the first of his major lessons.

His mother had ruffled his hair after a successful batch brewed, had taken him to the dungeons underneath. Alabaster remembered the prisoner his mother pointed at; how the guards had dragged the man out of his cell to force him to his knees, prying his jaw open. How his mother's praise ensnared him like a blanket when he had poured his concoction down the man's throat after she had said to do so. The prisoner's eyes had shot open, tears streaming down his cheeks as he had screamed in agony. Oh how he had foamed up even after he had fallen to cold stone floor unconscious, white gauzy spit trailing down his chin.

Alabaster, in all his nine year old glory, had killed a man.

He had been the unintended eavesdropper to his mother's and Eudora's conservation that night. Conservation was an overstatement, to be honest, at from the sounds that had came out of his mother's study had only belonged to Queen Hecate.

His proud mother had begged, voice uncharacteristically low and desperate, and pleaded; telling Eudora to give her another chance. That she had misunderstood things and they could fix her mistake.

Whatever the argument had been about, Eudora hadn't been in the palace the next day. Nor the days after that. And just like that, the woman that had raised him had vanished without a trace.

"You have bags under your eyes." Eudora inspected his face, "Your hair is at your waist, your eyes are duller too."

Alabaster shut his eyes, pain and longing flaying him alive.

"And you're so thin," she mumbled, "Are they not feeding you?"

"They do," he hoarsed out.

"Then you're not eating." Eudora wiped at a tear he hadn't realised was there, "Oh little princeling. What had they done to you?"

A damn inside him broke as he choked, "Why are you back? Why now? Why not when—"

"I couldn't leave you children behind. Not after I heard Queen Hecate..." She trailed off, her mouth quivering.

"I miss my mom!" Alabaster sobbed in her arms.

"I know, princeling. Me too, me too." Eudora held him.

He bawled like a little kid, crying while she rocked him back and forth just like she used to.

Once he had exhausted himself, he slumped against her, heart and soul emptied out.

"Is there anything I can get you? Anything to help?" Eudora hugged him near. She worked in the kitchens now, apparently.

Alabaster blinked a few times, turning the question inside his mind. She would be discreet. No one else would know. "A flagon of whatever is the strongest in the cellars."

Her mouth parted, eyebrows knit in worry.

"Please, Eudora. Atlantis's drinks are pitifully weak."

Alabaster laid on bed, vision spinning and mind peacefully quiet.

His very being was buzzing, the coldness Annabeth and Perseus had left when they went to dinner replaced by the warmth of strongwine coursing through his veins.

With any luck, Alabaster would blackout before they came.

Chapter Text

Queen Lou Ellen had been crowned exactly one year ago, right down to the date.

She rubbed at her temples, staring at the set of crowns in front of her: One, embedded with the crown jewels, perhaps the most expensive thing Epirus owned after it had been throughly sacked. The one that had once belonged to Lou's mother.

The other; her brother's circlet of gold and gems.

He had entrusted her with it before he was taken away, before he boarded that accursed ship that had taken him to captivity. Lou had kept it safe to her best capability the whole year, tried even harder than she did for their mother's jewellery; which Lady Palas had seized for herself whenever her eyes caught onto one of them.

Her stomach churned as she remembered the said brother's attire the day before. Atlantis had put him in a gods forsaken crown. Sure, it was a crown made of corals but it was a crown nonetheless.

What had they done to get him to comply? Drug him? Threaten him with unspeakable things? And the rest of his outfit too...

Lou had seen show horses less decorated.

It was well played of Atlantis, to humiliate Epirus before the negotiations had even started.

"Your food is getting cold, your Majesty." Palas's equally cold voice shook her out of her thoughts.

"I'm full. Help yourself if you want to."

She had spent the entire morning, starting from dawn, meeting with the delegate monarchs, in the private receiving room attached to her quarters. Breakfast, after breakfast, after breakfast; she didn't think she could stomach any more, especially what with how she had to endure both their and Palas's scrutiny.

Oh the food was good, sure, as good as it could be considering the current budget cuts; but how was she expected to comfortably dine with their enemies for a full week?

Lord Hermes had spent the whole time rambling about how mountains are the best places for goats to be; and lamenting that his oldest and only son never talked to him anymore. If she had been close to Ambassador Chris like her brother had been, she'd be concerned about how he still ignored the existence of his other kids.

Queen Aphrodite was still insisting on Epirus's nice weather, the way it could help Chalceus's economy; and the Royal family's pockets candidly. At least, King Hephaestus seemed to have lost all his interest when he learned that her kingdom's mines had mostly gemstones and little coal, unlike the Underworld. So that was a win?

Queen Lady Artemis... well, she just glared daggers at Lou's face with her pale yellow eyes while she wolfishly teared through a full strip of meat.

"You should don your crown back on, your Majesty." Palas sipped on her tea. "Your guest will—"

The aforementioned guest interrupted her with a knock just then, rushing her to fix her crown on her hair. Trivia save her, Lou didn't want to see Poseidon at all.

King Poseidon strode in, in court clothing for once, a sea green tailcoat swishing behind his back with every step. "Your Majesty."

Lou rose from her seat, trying not to think about how unlike her Hecate never left her throne when welcoming dignitaries. "King Poseidon."

Palas stood from where she sat at her right, where her heir would be sitting if she had one, and bowed. "Sir."

"Palas." The King murmured, "Have we got a map?"

She gingerly took out a folded piece of parchment from her vest's pocket and handed it over. 

"Thank you," Poseidon thinly smiled, nodding his head, before his face fell, "Out, Lady Palas."

Palas's nostrils flared, her face gaining colour, "You do not command me, your Majesty."

"Leave." Poseidon growled, "Leave and I'll allow my son to marry your mother."

Lou watched, raising an eyebrow out of amusement as Palas immediately jumped out of her own skin, bowing to both of them and all but ran away from the room.

Poseidon visibly relaxed, his smiling growing into a more casual one as he moved to inspect the racks attached to the wall. "Please, do sit, your Majesty."

Kicking herself inwardly for playing the sitting duck, she gathered her skirts back to seat herself on her throne; picking at the roasted cheese on her palate.

"Congratulations on becoming a woman." He hummed, grabbing a bottle of wine and walking back to the table.

"Thank you, sir." She pursed her lips.

Would had been better if she hadn't spent it in loneliness.

He poured the rich, crimson liquid into the goblet reserved for him, finally taking a seat on the table, before reaching across for her own goblet.

Lou put her hands over it. "I do not drink."

"Ah," Poseidon paused, tilting the wine bottle up, "So you do not share your brother's appetite. Surprising."

What was that supposed to mean? The Alabaster she knew only took one goblet during mealtimes, and that was it. She had seen him badmouth their mother's Chancellor for being a drunkard to Ladies Circe and Medea in several occasions!

Was it not enough that Poseidon paraded around her brother like some sort of eye candy; why was he insistent on throwing her off-kilter still?

"I prefer a clear mind." She breathed in, gripping her breakfast utensils tight.

"Cheers to the sound logic." He raised his goblet, shaking his head.

"Can we please cut to business?" She clasped her hands.

"As you wish, your Majesty," Poseidon ran a hand through his grey speckled hair, "I may be ruthless, but I'm not needlessly cruel. I have an offer."

"Speak."

Poseidon woefully sighed, "I understand the war has left Epirus destitute. Please, do trust me when I say that this was neither the outcome I wanted nor wished for. I have daughters of my own, after all. I'd hate them to be in your position."

Lou furrowed her brows, fighting the urge to gnaw on her bottom lip.

"Despite it, you are doing an admirable job," Poseidon moved away a few of the plates, "Unfortunately, it's futile."

He spread out the map on the opening he created, grabbing a jam knife.

"Everywhere except this, this and this," here he stabbed the knife through the map in those places, all near the sole sea border Epirus had, "is under Sthenias's control."

"Correct." Lou said, "Under Sthenian wardship Atlantis only receives a third of the total revenue from the naval commerce and half of the raw ores from the mines; as per the capitulations."

"And how much are your citizens receiving?"

Lou's mouth snapped shut with a click of her teeth.

Poseidon sent her a sympathetic smile, "This is all part of the plan of course. Sooner or later, Epirus's purse will be bled dry through reparations and tributes; regardless of how many restrictions you place on your own people. How will you pay off your debt then?"

The only option she had would be to loan money from the Alliance, as the articles of the treaty stated Epirus would be withdrawn from any existing and future alliance agreements with nations outside of them.

And then she would had to pay off that, too.

A hand squeezed hers, firm and intending to be comforting, "Your people are starving, Queen Torrington. Who do you think they'll eat when they have nothing on their palate?"

"I think I can lead my own people just fine. I'm aware they're discontent, your Majesty. You do not need to tell me." Lou forced out, voice as steady as she could hold it to be. Damn it. Could the king sense her hand shaking under his?

"And what will you do, when they come for your head, your Majesty?" He bared his teeth in a shark-like smile, "Because they will. Will you put them down like the disobedient dogs they are?"

"I—" She drew her hand back, "I don't have the army for that."

"I know." The bastard leaned back, a smug look crossing his face. Of course he did, he had taken them all. "You'll need allies."

He swirled his goblet in the air, "You'll need a place of residence when you escape persecution from your own people."

"You're offering me to run away." Lou flattened.

"I'm offering you safety." Poseidon linked his fingers together, resting his chin, "Empress Athena... she's young, headstrong and a rash upstart. She had turned her territory from a puny kingdom to an empire more than triple the size it was in a matter of decades. However; in doing so, she keeps expanding further without properly securing her old conquests. Her prided empire will break under its own weight."

"I see."

"Furthermore, with her son's death, she only has her daughter, who married into my kingdom may I add, left for heir. Sthenias will not be able to protect you. But have you ever heard of any rebellions from Atlantis's islands?"

Only because you keep their soldiers hostage and the archipelago under constant threat of piracy, she bit her tongue.

"I can, though, protect you that is." Poseidon urged. "If you accept my offer, I would set you up with a private estate and a small piece of land on the southwest shores of Atlantis. Could give you a place in my court, even."

She breathed out, "And the catch?"

"Smart girl. An agreement that you'll step down and hand over Epirus, all of it, to Atlantis." Then he added, as if it made it any better, "Neither Palas nor Athena would need to know until the exchange is done with."

If Sthenias lost her control of Epirus, they would lose their point of access to the seas and any other country up north and hidden from the Alliance due to the mountain range. All of which, Atlantis would gain, along with ruling the gulf.

But Lou herself would be free.

"Say, I agree." She pushed her chair back, "I'd be part of your court, you said. Like my brother is?"

A beat of silence passed.

"Part of my court?" Poseidon bellowed, almost doubling over from his cackles, "No, no. My son gets easily bored during court, and who am I to deny him his entertainment?"

Lou felt sick.

Alabaster... all dolled up and in silken clothes. Only the prettiest trophy for the King's beloved son.

"I thank you for your generous offer, sir," She choked, trying to will away the memories of Alabaster's sullen eyes, "but I cannot, in any good conscience, abandon the people I have a duty to.

Poseidon shook his head, as if she was but a silly child, and got up, stopping right before the door.

"Your idealism is congratulary," she wanted to wipe that smirk off his face, "I'll greatly enjoy seeing life beat it out of you."

When Alabaster had came to wakefulness, he was wearing his nightgown, which he did not remember changing into.

"It's his sister!"

"I just don't see the point in—"

"First impressions, Percy," an exasperated voice interrupted the previous one.

With a pounding headache, he shirked off the covers tangled uselessly around his legs, slipping out of bed. His vision spun as he stumbled towards the two of them.

"Good morning, jewel," Annabeth said.

"Morning," he struggled to rasp out. Gods, his mouth was so dry his tongue felt like sandpaper against the roof of it.

"Jewel," Perseus shook his head in fondness, "Please do tell my wife that I don't need to wear a corset. Isn't the whole point of the pants's high waist to give the same silhouette?"

Alabaster blearily blinked at them. Through the haze of his mind and the dark spots swimming in front of his eyes, he could make out Annabeth’s braids intricately piled on top of eachother, white gold cuffs and clasps peeking through. They matched the pale yellow dress she wore, uncharacteristically like her, only a shimmery blue shawl wrapped around her shoulders breaking off the monochrome outfit. 

He sighed, starting to lace up Perseus, "It wouldn't kill you to dress nice for once."

"Thank you!" Annabeth threw her hands in air.

"I did! Yesterday!" Perseus grumbled.

"You don't see me complaining, do you, your Highness?" Perhaps he had pulled the strings way tighter than they were supposed to be. Not that Alabaster cared.

That shut Perseus up real quick.

Annabeth wrapped her arms around his chest, drawing him in, and rested her chin on his shoulder, "Breakfast is in the other room. We ate already but if you want us to join you..?"

He made a noise of agreement before grabbing his morning robe and fleeing to the outer chambers.

A table set for three greeted him. The meats in the center plate was still steaming, capped by fried eggs and covering soft bread along with them. Vegetables and fruits were served in small bowls around it, roasted cheese thrown in between. Tea accompanied the foods, just as jams and honey and molasses did.

Something was terribly wrong.

The breakfasts from his childhood was at the very least double the size of this, even for one person.

Sure. Prince Perseus and Princess Annabeth would not receive the same quantity as the crown prince when they were merely guests but this was hilariously small in portions.

Just how bad was the Crown's purse?

Numb inside, he shakily took a bite out of the meat. Nausea was stirring the contents of his stomach, the forewarnings of vomit hitting the walls of his throat with every swallow. Maybe he didn't really feel like eating.

Annabeth and Perseus sauntered in right then, the latter actually dressed properly. Even if he was fiddling with the hem of his waistcoat. Alabaster let out a squeal as both of them leaned down to plant kisses on his cheeks.

Annabeth settled next to him, a smirk on her lips and a hand wandering to rest on his thigh.

"I don't think I'm hungry," he mumbled, toying with the fork.

His stomach burnt from inside out, eating at itself in protest.

Perseus sat on his other side, "Drink some water at least."

He didn't protest when the Prince started to pour from the pitcher, and handed him the chalice. The cool water relieved the desert his mouth was, wrapping its calming hands around his throat and mind.

A rapid rhythm of knocking disrupted their tranquility when he had emptied the chalice and Perseus was refilling it.

Annabeth narrowed her eyes, a flash of recognition in the gray of them, "Enter."

A man with twin monocles and an immaculately pressed bow tie as usual peeked his head, before dissappearing and entering fully.

"Your Highnesses." Annabeth’s secretariat cleared his throat.

"Come on, Malcolm," Perseus stood, gesturing his seat, "You're family. Come sit."

"I'm fairly certain Prince Malcolm is dead, sir." Malcolm raised an eyebrow, though Alabaster could never tell if he was amused.

Never could, not even in their childhood.

"Malcolm," Annabeth tilted her head, drumming her fingers against his thigh. Waiting.

A deep breath, "A missile from Empress Athena reached the palace last night."

Alabaster snapped his head up, meeting the other two's widened eyes. Annabeth marched to her brother, "And you waited until morning?!"

He ducked his head. He didn't envy Malcolm. Annabeth’s fury was a force unto itself.

"I—" Malcolm stared at him pointedly, shades of pink dusting his face, before averting his gaze, "I didn't want to intrude."

Humiliation spiked him throughout his heart.

"Sit down," Annabeth hissed.

"I—"

"If you're not family, you're a subject," Perseus growled, a hand squeezing Alabaster's shoulder, "Do as you're told."

With an ear grating creak, Malcolm pulled the chair to sit, and lowered his head, placing an envelope onto the table. If the curved handwriting didn't indicate the writer, then the olive green seal with the owl that spread its wings surely did. Malcolm moved to break it open—

"Read, jewel." She wrapped her fingers around Alabaster's neck.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Alabaster took out his letter opener, did as he was commended.

"To her Majesty's. An ill fortunate rock slide accident has delayed our convoy. The carriages will be back on their way to arrival at the earliest opportunity, once they navigate around the mountains. I thank you for your patience and the welcoming feast you'll no doubt throw. Empress Athena of Sthenias, the Wise and Just, first of her name, ruler of—" He paused, "I'm not reading her load of titles."

The sibling pair snorted.

"I had hoped she wouldn't come," Malcolm placed his head inside his palms.

"Don't lie to yourself now," his sister paced around the room. "It's fine. I plan to keep you busy anyhow."

Alabaster's fellow ex prince made a noise of confusion.

Annabeth wrung her hands, "Magnus."

"Cousin Magnus?"

"What other Magnus you know?" She huffed a nervous laugh, "In his last few letters, he writes fondly of a potterer. Way too fondly. Search her background, make sure she will not harm him."

"Of course," he bowed to the three of them, "Where shall I find these... letters?"

"I sneaked them inside your luggage." She grinned.

Malcolm let out a sigh from within. He walked towards his sister, stopping right in front of her, causing her to gasp when he wrapped his arms around her in a hug, "You're so much like mother, it hurts."

Annabeth’s eyes shone, wetness gleaming on her irises as she awkwardly patted her brother's back. "...just go."

She slumped on her chair the minute he was gone, head in hands just like her 'secretariat' had done.

"So," Perseus piped in, breaking the silence, "what will we do? Because I was kind of thinking jewel could tour us the palace..."

"Haven't you seen it before, Perseus?" Alabaster laid his head on Annabeth’s arm.

"Maybe we want to see it from you," Her voice was muffled by her hands.

He let out a breath, rolling his eyes. It was decided then. They were lucky, if he loved them less they would be in the ground and his head on a spike. "Fine."

"Change first, you're in your nightwear."

"What's your problem with your brother anyway?" Perseus threw an arm around his wife's shoulders.

"We don't have have a problem!" She said incredulously, "Except that with him dead, I'm mother's only heir left—"

"Annabeth—"

"No, you don't understand—" She choked, breathless, "Growing up, her favourite dinner tale was how she secured her throne when her younger brother challenged it."

"Ah." Alabaster's mouth dried up further.

"Do you know the tale, Perce?" Annabeth rambled on, "She first hung him in front of the watching nobles, dragged his chopped up limbs to all over the nation and displayed them in town squares until they were rotten and then some more. You think Malcolm doesn't have an eye on my crown? You think he trusts me?"

Perseus whispered, "Are you sure?"

"When he told me," She hiccuped, "when he told me he didn't want to be left alone with mother after our marriage contract was signed, I knew what I had to do."

"Why not kill him?" Alabaster scoffed.

Him and Lou had been raised with the knowledge if one of them decided to poison the other, they could always save themselves with a quickly made antidote, for their mother had taught them both the weapon and the cure.

But why bother with fratricide, when they both knew Lou Ellen was supposed to be his eye inside of the court after he ascended on his throne?

"Because I'm selfish, Alabaster." Annabeth clipped, mouth pinched to stop a stray tear from streaming down her chin, "Any other question you already know the answer to?"

Alabaster cursed out Poseidon's and his servants's lineage as he stomped out. "I hope you know your father is only alive because you love him, Jackson!"

Perseus winced, dragging the tips of his fingers along the set of pearls and corals draped around Alabaster's neck, hanging down his shoulders.

His muscles were aching, his head throbbing and he just had to be wrestled into this ridiculous jewellery.

Annabeth pouted, a hand snaking around to rest on the back of his hair, "Hold on."

Her fingers tugged at the few pins holding the bejewelled hair net in place, before it loosened his hair enough so it could fall onto the floor with little noise.

He sighed in relief, checking to see if his hair had completely fell out of its up-do, "Thanks."

"Are you not going to get cold?" She asked.

Alabaster glanced at his linen shirt, void of any vests or jackets, before beaming, "This is my home. I'm used to Epirus's weather. Now come on!"

There was something in having the couple trail after him that made his heart start beating faster, his blood flowing with the force of summer hail. He could almost pretend he was still the spoiled crown prince, showing off his inheritance to the newest members of his retinue. Almost.

He took them from ballrooms to balconies, from the highest floor to the lowest, from the great halls to sitting rooms and making a quick stop at the secret tunnel that led to the temple on the mountains that had been closed off since his great great grandmother's childhood.

Though whatever had been wrong with the breakfast was worse about the palace.

Wherever they went, the jewels that lit up the walls and set the entire atmosphere he remembered from before the war were gone. The paintings, too. The curtains were replaced with cheaper fabrics, the torches sparse. He hadn't dared to approach the throne room, but he feared in what state he'd find it if he did.

"Let’s go to the library," he frowned.

"And does Epirus have your beloved romance books, your Highness?" Perseus nudged him with his elbow.

"Maybe," Alabaster hummed.

"Weren't you hiding fairytales behind philosophic books as a kid?" Annabeth laughed.

Alabaster faux-gasped, "Slander! You know I love my philosophy."

"I suppose so," She said, "but you also were red in face every time I saw you."

He let out a sputter of refusals, fastening his steps as the couple giggled behind him.

"I'm going to find you the worst analysis of symbolism in architecture, and gift it to you on your birthday." He turned, pointed at her, grinning as he pushed open the double doors.

Annabeth’s laughter and protests cut off as the smell of old books hit them in the face. Alabaster took a deep breath. He had missed this. Rows of books towered towards the ceilings, lanterns on every table. The ink patterns on the wood had stood the same, the stack of parchments too.

Perseus whistled in appreciation.

"You remember the layout?" Alabaster tilted his head at Annabeth.

"Of course." Her pupils were blown wide. Within seconds she was gone, had beelined across the room to the strategy books.

"I should had brought along my manuscript," Perseus bemoaned.

"There are quills here, you know." Alabaster kissed his cheek, "Go."

He walked towards the nearest rack. His hands roamed the leather-bound spines, soles of his shoes clacking against the weathered wood. His fingers fell into open air as he suddenly came to an empty section that hadn't been there the last time he had been here. He found the plaque that named the shelves: 'History'.

His stomach dropped.

Alabaster marched towards the librarian, only to stop in his tracks once he realised the man behind the desk was new. "Where's Lady Nyx?"

"She had been fired, sir." The man clutched his desk.

"By whom?" Alabaster demanded.

"Her Majesty," the man coughed, "Lady Palas really, if I may be bold."

Alabaster gritted his teeth, counting to ten internally. "And the history section? Who cleared it out?"

The man's silence was answer enough.

"The stables were cool!" Perseus smiled from ear to ear.

"You'd think that." Annabeth swung their interlocked hands as they passed through corridors.

He pouted, "It's a shame we couldn't see your horse though?"

"Because she is dead, Perseus." Alabaster dug his nails in his palms.

The other man's breath hitched, "I'm so sorry, I— if something happened to Blackjack I'd—"

"It's fine." Alabaster snapped, aware he'd be souring the mood, "I put her down myself."

He hadn't wanted the Alliance to get their hands on his beloved horse, as much as it pained to hurt her. He had kept telling himself it was the merciful choice over and over during his stay in Atlantis's dungeons. Who knew what Poseidon would had done to the poor animal?

After all, look what had happened to him.

Too bad Alabaster hadn't been able to convince Ethan to give him the same treatment before soldiers came to collect the prince.

"Where to?"

"Surprise," Alabaster mused, giggling inside while he led them down the spiral stairs.

"You're not leading us to the dungeons, are you?" Annabeth teased.

He shook his head, placing his torch into the stand before the door at the end of the stairs.

Alabaster threw open the dingy old door, heart rabbiting inside his ribcage, "You're going to love this."

Perseus and Annabeth looked at him, the dozens of barrels in the room, eachother and him again.

Alabaster started cackling—

Only for a gasp to be punched out of him when he got slammed against the walls.

"Perseus—" He wheezed, the moisture on the stone walls seeping into the back of his shirt.

"Percy!"

"Do you think this is funny?" Perseus tightened his grip on Alabaster's collar, "Funny!"

"Let go—" The beating of his heart had stopped, before changing into a crescendo of panic. Alabaster wriggled.

Perseus stumbled backwards, drawing his hands to his chest. Shoulders hunched as if he was the cornered animal. Annabeth grabbed him by the waist, holding him close.

"You brought us to the wine cellar?" Perseus heaved.

"Am I not allowed to play a little joke, your Highness?" Alabaster balled his fists, intentionally trembling his voice. Just to see them flinch. Just to know he had at least that much power over them.

Perseus scowled, "Not when I know you got wasted last night, you—"

"Percy." Annabeth raised her voice, "Perce let go, he wasn't thinking."

"Obviously! He is inebria—"

"Percy!"

"Right," Alabaster squirmed under her gaze, "I wasn't thinking."

"See," she chimed, "Now let's see the throne room."

Perseus stopped him on the doorstep, ducking his head, "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"No." His answer was far too quick for any of them's liking.

Alabaster pretended to not see Perseus tell a passer-by servant to not let him get any of the cellar's contents in his hands.

He let out a sigh of relief once they were in the corridor leading to the throne room.

Finally.

Some paintings.

"Is this your mom and her sister?"

Alabaster turned to see what they were looking at. A vertical oil portrait of a little child and a baby in a gilded cradle, the painting half hidden with curtains.

He grimaced. "No. The baby is Lou."

He had forgotten him and his mother had decided to keep it up so as to not offend the court painter.

"Then who is the other child?" Perseus asked while Annabeth sent him a knowing look.

"Twin sister," the practiced lie fell out of his lips as easy as it had when he had been arranging his own funeral, "Died long ago."

In hindsight, it had been quite fun to witness the courtiers stumbling upon themselves to be the first one to delay their condolences, and how happy they were to welcome him to court; unaware he was raised in it and knew them all already.

"I should really shut up today," Perseus hid his face on his wife's shoulder. The poor man, Alabaster nearly felt bad for him.

"Nightmares?" She patted his head.

"Yes," Perseus mumbled. "How did you know? Did I wake you up?"

"You always put your foot in your mouth after a bad night." Alabaster huffed, gesturing for them to continue with his hand.

His ancestors's portraits lined up the formerly bedazzled walls, empty spaces in places where other types of paintings used to be.

He stopped in front of an old wedding scene: his grandmother and grandfather.

The woman had died from a prolonged illness while her husband was away on a diplomatic trip, leaving Alabaster's mother to rule the country temporarily in his absence. Although, even after he had returned; he had been so overcome with grief that Hecate had been the unofficial sovereign for a whole decade before she had even been crowned. Or well, that's what she had always told him and Lou.

As far as Alabaster was aware, his grandfather had been alive when he was a toddler; though his mother had always refused to introduce them to eachother, stating it wouldn't be fitting. Nevertheless, at least she had let him join in the funeral planning after his death.

"Well that jacket looks simply terrific on someone." Annabeth’s low voice caught his attention.

Her husband chuckled, "Look at his pose, too."

Hot, iron white flames curled inside his chest; jealousy clawing at his insides. "Who are you—"

An embarrassed blush flooded his cheeks crimson.

Annabeth and Perseus were leaning on the wall, on either side of a portrait of Alabaster on his horse, clad in court regalia and his mother's hounds accompanying them.

"Gods, your freckles are as pretty as constellations, jewel." Perseus crossed his arms.

"Okay, yes sure," He tucked in a stray piece of hair, "Anyway—"

"The artist really brought out the gold tones in the greens of your eyes." Annabeth piped in.

His whole being were crackling, burning his organs, "Thanks—"

"And—"

"Enough!" He whined, fanning his face, "Enough you're killing me here."

"But you're so easy to fluster."

He dramatically leaned on the opposite wall, a hand on his forehead. "Stop."

Just as their laughter filled the empty halls, Malcolm all but slid in from the farther end of the corridor, out of breath, "It's mother!"

Annabeth stiffened, and faintly asked, "So soon?"

Her brother nodded, clutching his chest.

"It's tea time anyway, right?" Alabaster offered, still wheezing, "I'm sure you can use a distraction, Ann."

Alabaster grabbed the teapot from where it was in the middle of the quadruple set, serving piping hot floral tea to Perseus and Annabeth, then himself.

His stomach was rumbling. That's what he got for replacing both dinner and breakfast with a flagon of wine and a few cups of water, he supposed.

"She's been pestering me about succession since her last birthday." Annabeth pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Haven't we resolved that issue already?" Perseus knit his brows, "Say aah, jewel."

Alabaster quietly accepted the pastry from his outreached fingers, savoring the thick, honey-like taste as it crumbled beneath his tongue. Hopefully, his stomach had settled down and he wouldn't be emptying it across the royal gardens.

"Guess not." She sighed, "Your almost poisoning must have reminded her of it."

"I'm going to take Triton's offer for a hunting trip and then shoot him," Perseus scrunched up his face.

"Please don't do his job for him," Alabaster took a sip from his tea, "You're awful at archery."

"You could always teach me?" He smiled.

"I am not joining you on another hunting trip after the last one, Perseus." Alabaster rolled his eyes, "Not after your father had the brilliant idea to join us."

Loud barking echoed from afar.

Annabeth perked up, "Your family had dogs! Are the pups still around, I wonder."

"They must be grown by now," He smirked, getting up to walk over the dark shadow ahead. He let out a shrill whistle.

A dog that nearly reached his knees barrelled towards him, jumped and toppled him over. 

"Hey, Gale," Alabaster brought his hand to the top of her head, moving to scratch her black fur.

The dog gnashed her teeth right above his nose. He yelped. Gale snarled, Annabeth and Perseus rushing to them—

"Heel!" A voice shouted. "Gale, heel!"

They grabbed him from the arms, pulling him up from the moss and steadying him in between their bodies.

"You good?" Perseus asked, patting his back.

Alabaster numbly nodded, staring across while Annabeth encircled his elbow with her fingers, tight.

Gale hadn't recognised him.

The dog had hidden behind Queen Lou Ellen. She was so close, if he took a few steps forward—

"My apologies, she has been acting out recently." His sister plastered an unmistakably fake smile.

He breathed out, his vision blurry, "Lou."

She opened her mouth as if to call out, only to seemingly decide against it.

Perseus dragged his fingers along Alabaster's spine, until it rested on the small of his back and chuckled, "No worries, I know it all too well. One time my horse—"

"Foot in mouth, Perce," Annabeth whispered in his ear, too low to be heard by his sister.

"Your Majesty." Perseus's tone shifted, his fingers digging into Alabaster's flesh.

"Again, my apologies for Gale's behaviour," Lou's eyes darted between the three of them, her hands trembling, "I do hope you were enjoying the tea?"

"Yes, thank you for your generosity." Annabeth squeezed his elbow harder, "Besides, we were just off to back inside."

They were?

"Wonderful." Lou's mouth twitched, her lips quivering as if she was about to sob.

Alabaster forced himself to breathe. Gale was still hiding behind his sister, head on the lifeless plants. "She didn't recognise me..."

He had handfed her since she was a newborn pup, putting off his hunting trips for a few hours to play with her whenever he had took the older hounds with him to the woods. He had been the one to name her!

He squealed, having been tugged towards Annabeth so she could kiss his cheek, "Don't be late, jewel."

Lou did a full body flinch.

Baffled, he watched Annabeth take her husband by arm, dissappearing from sight as they walked back to the palace.

A cold breeze blew, making him shiver.

Him and his sister were left alone, save for the guards stationed a few minutes away.

"Lou."

Her eyes were trained on him, flicking back and forth between the copious amount of pearls dangling down his torso. Shame filled him up.

"Alabaster." His sister placed a hand on Gale's head, bowing her head discreetly towards the nearest guards. "Interesting jewellery you got there. Do you pick them out yourself?"

So they were playing that game. That was fine. He had gotten rusty a little bit, however he could still choose his words carefully enough that only she'd understand. If the courtiers that knew them since babies hadn't been able to, neither would the Olympian Alliance's soldiers.

He rubbed his forearms as a sudden chill overtook him. "Thank you. The maids are of great help."

The beginnings of a strangled sound slipped past her lips before she stuffed it down. Alabaster forced himself to stay still, to not knock her over in a hug when they were being watched. Longing was stabbing his chest.

"I think there's still tea yet," he pointed towards the table with a shaking finger, "Won't you join me?"

Lou bobbed her head, knelt down to give a final scratch between Gale's ears and followed him to the table.

Alabaster set up the unused teacup, filling it to the brim as Lou sat on a chair, adjusting her crown.

"You don't need to serve me—"

"You're my superior now, no?" Alabaster bit out, surprising himself with the harsh tone.

Lou shut her eyes in pain, causing him to kick himself mentally, "How are you?"

"I've been better. It could be worse though," He started, hoping honesty would ease the awkwardness, "You?"

"The usual court life." She grasped his hand, "Filled with truths—" one squeeze— "and lies." two squeezes.

Smart girl.

His sister had always been quite clever, using the court's perception of her as the cast aside spare heir to get close to conspirators, delay intel under everyone's noses and expose their mother's enemies. There was a reason she was supposed to be his spy when he became the king, after all.

"I heard Lady Palas helps you run the kingdom." No use entertaining what-should-have-beens now.

"Yes. One might even say she's too helpful." Bitterness laced Lou's tongue as she squeezed his hand twice, "I'm grateful."

"Has she been the one to make the redecoration choices?" He ran his thumb across her knuckles.

"No." One squeeze. Then who?

Alabaster furrowed his eyebrows, "I see. And how is Hecuba?"

"...she has been sold."

His heart dropped, as he took the information in.

"How is your leg?"

He blinked, "Excuse me?"

"You," Lou swallowed, "you wrote to me during war, remember? Fell off your horse?"

Right. That had happened. Ethan had ran business in his stead for a whole month, insisting that he got it covered. Alabaster had never gotten to properly thank him for that before the war had thickened and his help forgotten.

"Of course. The Prince and the Princess noticed and got the Atlantean royal healer to check it out. He said that it was fine enough for..." Alabaster trailed off, wincing.

Fine enough for their Highnesses.

"Fine for?" Lou gripped her teacup with her free hand, worry etched into her posture.

"In general." He huffed, waving a hand in air, "Besides my field medic had already looked it over several times before the war had came to an end."

Lou breathed a sigh of relief once hearing he got clearance from one of Epirus's own. "Please tell me you're treated well."

"I—" Was he? He chose to settle on, "Yes, I'm treated... kind."

"Are you?" she begged, "Because they do not seem to even use your name. Jewel?"

She could have as well punched him in the gut. The nickname out of his sister's mouth stung.

"What you want me to tell them to stop?" He snorted, pointedly looking anywhere but her.

"Al!" The guards turned their bodies towards them at her shout.

"It's not like I get much of a say," Alabaster murmured.

"So you're what? Fooling yourself?" His sister pressed on.

"Ensuing our survival." He gritted his teeth, "Trust me, sister. I have an understanding with them. I'm fine."

"Okay." So low, he almost hadn't heard her.

"Okay."

With the way the afternoon rays hit the fabric of her headdress, the reflection of her dark eyes were almost a raging violet, crackling with quiet determination despite the heavy eyebags weighing them down.

"There's so much I want to tell you, I—" Lou gasped, lifting her chin to look at the setting sun.

Alabaster brought her hands under his chin, holding them inside his. "I know, Izzy."

She whispered after a few cautious glances thrown around, "Come to my chambers before midnight."

He pondered, "Too risky. Mine would draw less attention."

She shook her head, stood up and dusted her dress as she walked towards the approaching Lady Palas, approached towards her fate as the dutiful puppet queen.

Alabaster wanted to do nothing but hug her.

Alabaster paced back and forth, hands behind his back as he kept throwing looks at the giant clock mounted to the wall, watching the minute hand tick, tick, tick on.

The moon was shining, he had already changed into nightwear and shooed Annabeth and Perseus away for a little while.

Where was Lou? Where was his baby sister?

Had she been caught—

The doors flung open. Alabaster whirled around, letting out a single cackle at the sight of Lou Ellen in her robes and nightgown.

He took one step, two... before running to scoop her up, the dam of emotions he had tried his hardest to maintain shattering to pieces. He twirled her in the air, pressing his sister close as he inhaled deeply.

"I missed you," Alabaster choked.

Lou mumbled likely the same into his chest, wrapping her arms around him. She backed off slightly, lifting her head, tears streaming down her cheeks, "I don't know what I'm doing— I— Oh gods—"

"Shhh," he shushed her, a thumb on her lips, "Don't worry about the State tonight."

She shook, "But—"

"Do you remember when you'd have a nightmare but didn't want to bother anyone, so I'd tell you fairytales?" He guided them towards the bed.

Her eyes widened, a smile on her lips as she nodded excitedly and curled against his side.

Alabaster threw his arm around her body, dimming the oil lamp on the nightstand stand with the other and softened his voice, "Once upon a time, when the horses would joust and the knights trot—"

At some point, long after Lou had fell into sleep's sweet embrace; the room's other two residents came in, slipping inside the unoccupied side of the bed and cuddling close to him.

Just for tonight, with his lovers's warm arms around him and his sister's snoring filling the room; Alabaster could pretend he was more than a mere warspoil.

Chapter Text

The rays of the sun filtered in through the curtains, basking on her skin as Lou Ellen let a hum, not unlike a cat's purring, content to lay in her brother's embrace with her eyes closed.

She used to have nightmares a lot as a kid, the fear of having been left alone in an old dusty palace after her beloved family had all suddenly died taking over her consciousness night after night.

Alabaster had been there though, each time without fail, to scoop her up and hold her until the morning, especially after their nursemaid had left.

Growing up, he had been an unwavering presence in her life. The only person she could trust at court besides their mother. Their future had been set in stone before they were even born; and really. She had needn't fear of his absence. Alabaster had almost been a larger than life figure, unable to be imagined anywhere else but inside the sturdy halls of their ancestors.

Then the war had broken out, Alabaster was gone and the worst had came to pass.

Lou Ellen had been left alone in a dusty old palace, with her family dead or taken away, with enemies at every corner.

Yet still, Alabaster had found his way to her, found his way to his home.

Gentle hands cupped her face, caressing her cheek. The murmurings that belonged to her brother's voice washed over her like a blanket. She cracked open one eyelid, facing his dull emerald eyes, longing for sleep weighing down his lashes.

The eyes in her memories had been wildfire green; cunning and ever restless, crackling like lightning subdued in a bottle.

With a heavy heart, she rested her head on his collarbones.

"Slept well?" He mumbled, holding her so tight you'd think she would dissappear the second he let go.

She exhaled, "The best I had the whole year."

"I'm glad."

She let her eyes flutter shut as he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. There was so much she wanted to tell him, to seek guidance from the person who had actually been groomed for the throne. Like how King Morpheus had put forth that Hypnos did not have any carriages as an excuse to not come. Like how Epirus had been abandoned by all of her past allies. How all of the guards their mother trusted had been sacked, replaced with the Alliance's. How she couldn't sleep. That her nights were burdened by her sisterly worries when they weren't burdened by the fear her new guards would intrude into her chambers.

That there wasn't a day she hadn't spent grieving her alive brother.

The rumours, which what was left of Queen Hecate's court loved to talk of, did not help.

She could only soothe her anger with telling herself that Alabaster was neither the type to discard his duties to his country nor the type to engage in extramarital affairs.

And she sincerely doubted he had managed to sire even one secret love child, let alone fifteen like the rumours claimed, in the span of a year.

He didn't have that kind of charm.

"Don't drool on me," Alabaster shifted under her as he huffed.

An offended whine slipped past her lips. She rolled to her side, ready to tell him how she hadn't—

When an arm draped in front of her nose, straddling Alabaster's torso.

A cloud of black curls nuzzled into the back of her brother's neck.

Feeling dizzy, Lou lifted herself on her forearms, "Al..."

Perseus, Prince Perseus, turned his head around, pressed against Alabaster, and blinked sleepily, "Good morning, Your Majesty."

Her eyes shot open, whatever drowsiness she had having vaporised in an instant as she searched around the room. The clothing thrown around the furniture and discarded on the carpet were various shades of blue and green, along with few complimentary colours. A sleek lined grey corset cover laid on a sofa. She could make out some architecture books inside the pile of philosophic ones that she had noticed the night before. The welcoming flower arrangements bound with pearly white ribbons and decorated with azure gems that had been sent to the guestrooms of Atlantis's heirs still sat on a table, the vase wrapped with silk.

And of course, Prince Perseus had her brother in his arms, while Princess Annabeth tucked herself against her husband.

Ah.

Ah.

"Have I..." Alabaster sat up, grabbing a handful of the blanket, "forgotten to tell you?"

"What sort of understanding you have?" She hissed.

"Lou, don't panic—"

Lou yanked him towards the edge of the bed, and away from the couple, her heart hammering, "Why didn't you tell me you weren't assigned your own chambers? I would had—"

He kept quiet, lips pressed tight as he averted her gaze.

How had the Prince and the Princess noticed his injury when it was on his tight according to their correspondence anyway?

"Obviously in Atlantis—"

The tips of his ears reddened, like how they used to whenever he got letters from Sthenias as a young boy. His faded freckles disappeared under the blush that overtook her brother's face. The Princess had reached across her husband to place her hand on Alabaster's knee, the Prince hooking his chin on his shoulder.

"Surely, you have your own chambers?" Her hands shook.

"Technically," Alabaster stammered, opening and closing his mouth a few times before twisting his face the other way, beet red.

Her world crashed upon her head.

"THEY BROUGHT YOU INTO THEIR BED?!" Lou Ellen shrieked.

In her haste to get away, she had failed to take note of her surroundings, causing her to succumb to the ground's pull as she backed way too close to the edge of the bed.

She tumbled down.

Her head hit the hardwood floors with a crunch. Flashes of light swam in her vision, her forehead throbbing in cacophony. Deafened gasps fell on numb ears. She was glad some droplets escaped past her shut lids, for her eyes were burning hotter than a blacksmith's oven.

Everyone must had heard her scream by now: the maids, the servants, the court, the guests—

And who am I to deny him his entertainment, Poseidon's voice cackled in the depths of her mind.

Lou shifted her weight to her heels, lifting her head towards the bed. Three sets of eyes peered down at her owlishly. Alabaster leant down, his nightgown having had slipped enough to expose his shoulders and collarbones, "Sister—"

"I should go." She blurted out, shutting her eyes, "Congratulations again on your marriage, Your Highnesses."

She wouldn't look at Alabaster, couldn't; not if it meant seeing his resigned face and the hands all over him.

Just what exactly was he trading away to 'ensure their safety'?

"Your Majesty," Princess Annabeth started as Lou was fastening on her nightrobe on her way to the doors.

She whirled around.

Annabeth reclined back on the headboard, Alabaster ensnared in her embrace, her eyes flashing with an unreadable glint. "I think your headwrap is getting loose."

Lou all but threw herself out of their chambers.

She ran, her feet sliding on the newly polished floors of the corridors, uncaring of where they led her other than away from the couple.

She couldn't see clearly anyway, her tears blurring her sight, as she wheezed and gasped and heaved in hopes her mind would quiet.

Non surprisingly, she quite literally slammed into someone. Just her luck that person happened to be Prince Triton then.

Lou cleared her throat, adjusting her robe, "Good morning, sir."

Triton blinked, glancing between her dishevelled state and the path she came from, "Here is a bit far from the royal chambers."

She hadn't had interacted much with Poseidon's former heir before the war, the older boy having had preferred to stick to his mother's side. He always had a more approachable flair to him, though, unlike his father, despite what their opposite clothing styles indicated.

"Ah well—"

Triton cut her off with a snort, "Is my brother going after the whole family now?"

"Excuse me!" Her cheeks flushed. Embarrassment flooded her being as shame choked out her words before they could reach her throat.

"You're not the only Torrington to run out of their bedrooms crying, you know." He sent her a look mixed with pity, venom and delight, shaking his head, and brushed past her to continue along, "No idea what he thinks he can achieve by it, though."

She had written them to treat him well—

"It's not like his leash is that long."

Triton did not turn around to see her collapse on the floor.

After her brief breather, Lou Ellen took to the servants's passageways, where she would not be seen by any of the delegates or her court.

Despite her wobbling legs and her being on the verge of fainting, she made it to her chambers relatively quick; had even managed to fend off Eudora's concern in just five minutes.

She came out of the labyrinthine corridors to her inner bedroom, only to find Lady Palas lounging on her bed.

"You have guests waiting in the drawing room." She said at the same time as Lou crossed her arms, "Get off my bed."

"I'm not even going to ask where you were," Palas curled her upper lip, glaring at her in a way all too familiar to her father's, "Ready yourself."

Lou sighed, plopping herself on the divan before her bed. Alabaster's portrait stared at her; confidence oozing from his figure seated on his throne, sheer willpower ablaze on the painted greens of his eyes. All the qualities he seemed to lack now.

Her mother had ladies in waiting and maids to dress her, even for the smallest occasions.

Lou Ellen did not have that luxury.

Queen Lady Artemis was impatiently tapping her boots on the carpet, when Lou had emerged into the withdrawing room, fully dressed and her curls tucked under her veil.

"Your Majesty," Artemis clicked her tongue. Her hair was braided into a crown, her body draped with the sun-kissed colours of her and her twin's kingdom, Delphi, was known for, complete with the exposed limbs.

Lou did her best not to stare.

A boy was perched next to her, honey-like hair twirled around his lowered head. White silk, its edges embroidered with gold and silver threads into little suns and leaves, hung off his figure, an umber tunic peeking underneath the soft fabric. A jade circlet sat gingerly on his curls, a bouquet of dried sunflowers in his hands.

She had seen this kind of outfit once. She had been young, enough that she could still count the months that had passed after her presentation to the court on one hand. Her and her brother had represented Epirus at the wedding of King Lord Apollo and his fourth spouse, after his third died like the previous two had. She had focused less on the glamour and more on the fact that Alabaster had been dragging her along in his quest to find Princess Annabeth amongst the guests; but still she remembered the wedding attire the younger of the twin monarchs had: the same white silk parading Delphi's symbols.

"May I introduce you to my nephew, Lady Ellen?" Artemis gestured towards the boy, "Wilhelm, go on."

The boy, Wilhelm, stood, handing his bouquet to a perturbed Palas, and bowed before her, "Your Majesty."

"Prince Wilhelm." His eyes were a striking cerulean blue.

A smile tugged at her lips, while she hesitantly held out her hand.

"It is my greatest pleasure to meet you," he murmured. "Please, call me Will."

He grabbed her hand inside his, bringing it to his lips.

Her smile froze, as they met not her signet ring but the bare skin of her hand, burning her flesh.

Artemis flashed a predatory grin, "He's just your age."

Annabeth leant on the windowsill, occasionally grazing her fingers along the leather spine of the book she had borrowed from the library. Servants were buzzing around, Prince Triton accompanying one of her mother's ladies-in-waiting in the gardens. Her husband was excitedly moving his hands, miming a bow to a disgruntled looking Alabaster on one of the many balconies.

"It is a far too beautiful day to be cooped inside." A familiar voice sighed near her nape.

She jumped in place, whirling around, "Mother!"

She had been expecting her, really, even if not in some random passageway.

Her heart soared, the small part of her that was still the little girl waiting in front of her mother's study in hopes she'd allow her in getting giddy.

Empress Athena blocked her sight of the corridor; the skirts of her gown taking up the space of a long dinner table, all of them elaborately colour and pattern matched, down to the ruffle styles and the brocades. Her gray wig piled higher than the torches, each braid held in place with gold adornments, and on top were her crown.

She was a pinnacle of power, as she always was.

"Walk with me, daughter," Athena offered an arm, "It has been far too long."

Annabeth linked their arms together, their boots clinging in rhythm against the wooden floors. The admission slipped with surprising ease out of her lips, "I missed you."

"It's unusually quiet in the palace without you or your brother around." Her mother said, blinking in pain, "If I could execute that reckless fool of a driver again—"

Annabeth patted her arm in feigned grief, making a mental note to warn Malcolm.

"Nevertheless, it fills this old woman with joy to see you."

"Likewise, Majesty." Annabeth stopped in her tracks once they reached another window, "Have you talked with the Queen yet?"

"I'd hardly call the kid a queen," she scoffed, "But I am yet to. I trust Palas has it under her control for the time being."

"As long as her ambition is kept at check," Annabeth agreed, eyes trained on the balcony her lovers were.

Percy had his grip tight on Alabaster's forearms, keeping them restrained on the air and leaning in. Alabaster craned his neck, pink dusted on his cheeks as his lips parted to welcome Percy’s, even if his brows were furrowed in indignation.

Gods. What she wouldn't give to be with them right now.

"I see that my wedding gift is appreciated." Her mother mused, an apprehensive glare betraying her smile.

Alabaster's back was bent over the bannisters. She clamped her mouth shut, lest a rather inappropriate strangled sound escape past in front of her mother. And sure. She hated how he was treated akin to an object, however... "Indeed, mother. Thank you, both of you."

She needn't clarify who she was referring to; after all the entire Atlantis and Sthenias court had been witness to their parents's little surprise.

"Though, I'd put him to different use." Disgust leaked out of her mother's tongue, the Empress tearing herself away from the window and striding towards the end of the hall.

"Mother?" She called out after her.

Athena ignored her, save for the single hand flap to indicate she should follow. She lingered near a painting of a young Queen Hecate, cradling a baby swaddled in green, a snake the size of her arm wrapped around her neck. One had to wonder if she had posed with an alive snake for it to be drawn.

"I had thought you less wasteful, smarter too."

Whatever giddiness, whatever excitement she had of her mother's presence sputtered out faster than a candle flame, faster than Alabaster could finish a flagon of ale.

"The prettiest of flowers are always the most poisonous ones. Wise it is not, to keep it at your bedside." Her mother sent a forlorn look at the painting.

Oh. Annabeth’s shoulders dropped in relief. This was a familiar game. She raised her chin high, "Does a snake charmer keep his income away and allow it to be stolen?"

It wouldn't do good for Alabaster to stray, would it?

She kept quiet, before patting Annabeth’s back, pride on her lips. "Good girl."

Annabeth grinned, ducking her head at the compliment.

From what she could see, what with the angle the window near the painting provided, Alabaster was chastising a laughing Percy, trying to tie her husband's cravat.

"Who would you say he's more loyal to?" Her mother hummed.

Annabeth blinked, "Himself?"

"Ah," Athena's mouth twitched, "Wrong phrasing. Which one of you would he kill later?"

Her breath hitched.

"Me... it's me."

"Great." Her mother's face split into a smile, "Do continue whatever plans you have with the trophy today, will you? Though, see me sometime this week. We need to talk about Sthenias's future."

With that she vanished amongst the portrait-lined halls.

Annabeth listened to the birds chirping under the sun, the summer breeze playing with her braids as she arrived to the gardens where their open chariot awaited them. What a shame it was Poseidon just had to have a private talk with Percy, that her husband could not join them, however they'd no doubt enjoy themselves in town despite his absence.

Alabaster was next to the driver, who was holding a whip, his hair in a high ponytail and a lagoon-y blue coat put on. The horses were fussing in place, restless to work.

She walked towards them, before stopping, mesmerised by the sight. Alabaster had his head turned the opposite way of the sun, one bare hand resting on the outreached palm of the driver, the other rolling the chains of his necklace between his fingers. His serene face was set in utter devotion, his lips moving to mouth silently. The driver said something she couldn't hear, though Alabaster was repeating it right after. He knelt, one knee hitting the patch of dirt they were standing on.

Swallowing hard, Annabeth took a few steps towards him, as his ritual seemed to be over. He grabbed a fistful of dirt, bringing it to his face, a single tear running down his cheek in to it. He let the soil fall back down between his fingers and got up, swiping a hand under his eye when he saw her.

"Princess." Alabaster stuffed his hands back into the gloves the driver handed to him, his lips curled into a soft smile.

"You have dirt on your face," she mumbled. She took out a handkerchief from her purse, a seashell shaped thing with gilded ivory handles. Alabaster's wet eyelashes fluttered as she caressed away the soil on his cheek.

She would never admit it to his face, however, he looked good in the clean, shaped cuts of Sthenian shirts and the pressed rectangular handkerchief, rather than the ruffled look of Atlantis. Although, she did prefer the rough gemstones inlaid in bronze Epirus had for jewellery to the more finer detailings of the former two on him.

But his coat was of the sea.

"I thought you weren't cold?" She raised an eyebrow.

Alabaster dusted off the lapels of his jacket, "Your husband insisted."

"That explains why it has the Atlantean Royal Crest."

Alabaster rolled his eyes, opening the carriage door, "After you."

Annabeth climbed up to the carriage, glanced at the guards getting ready on their own horses and scooted so Alabaster could sit. His knee was stained with dirt, pearls dangling from his bracelets. Percy’s coat almost engulfed him; possibly it would had fit better before the war, as Alabaster seemed to melt away with each passing day. Even the powder couldn't hide his gaunt face and dark circles.

"Where to, sir?" The driver, an Epirusian man, called out.

Alabaster drew in a sharp breath, full with sorrow, "Town centre, Dunstan."

Annabeth made a mental note to find a way for him to be called 'sir' more often, if his eyes would lit up like this every single time.

Dunstan cracked his whip, the carriage lurching forward. Four guards on horses followed them from behind like shadows, the palace dissappearing under ancient arches as they headed towards the town.

Alabaster relaxed against her side, fiddling with his necklace: The crossed torches pendant her and Perseus had found discarded among rest of the trophies taken from Epirus. He stiffened upon noticing her gaze, shoving it back under his shirt, "I shouldn't have worn this out in the open. It's reflecting bad on you two—"

"No, keep it on." She rushed, before he attempted to take it off, and asked what was on her mind, "I haven't seen you pray before."

"Well," he bit out, "You'll forgive me for not wanting to do that in front of you, your Highness. I do not want my gods to be subjugated into Bellona's retinue, like every other territory Sthenias claimed, you see."

She choked, numbly muttering, "Bellona doesn't have a retinue."

"But your mother does." He said, an awful smirk on his lips.

"Jewel..."

"I'm sure the temple you designed for Minerva is wonderful, Beth." He twisted away.

She had poured out her own blood, sweat and tears for that temple, meant to last in the capital for as long as the empire did. Marble had bent like clay under her hands, moulded into an ageless monument. It towered across the Sthenian Royal Palace, the priests and priestesses singing praises to her ingenuity and talent to this day. She had even included little statuettes of the gods of the territories, circling the giant Minerva statue in the middle, that she may or may not had based off of her mother. Why should she not, after all? They were descended from the goddess, it only made sense that they held her likeness on their bodies.

Last she heard of the apple of her eye, the priests were talking about adding depictions of Trivia and Proserpina under Minerva's feet, next to the other statuettes.

"You know I'm not thrilled about mother's presence either," She managed to work her tongue, only half believing her words.

"Liar." Alabaster paused, "The Empress and the King is a volatile combination."

The carriage passed trees and abandoned manors by.

"We will not let them hurt you, jewel." She grasped his twitching knee, his green eyes meeting her grey.

You already did, went unsaid.

"Don't touch me." He flinched away, wrapping his arms around himself. "We're in public, Jackson."

Somedays, Alabaster was so eager, so cordial that he'd surprise neither of them if he had locked the chamber doors and hid the key, just so they wouldn't leave his side. Then once in a blue moon, he cared suddenly for improperity, reticent and distant in behaviour.

As if they hadn't already seen him in various states of undress; and him them.

"Is this about your sister?" Annabeth cocked her head. It had taken them a full half an hour to calm him down after she left.

"Lou overreacted." Alabaster whispered, nervously glancing at Dunstan, "But that was my fault. I shouldn't have sent you two out. She'd take it better if..."

He trailed off, watching the roads change from hard packed dirt to unkempt gravel. He changed the subject, "I do not envy Perseus."

"Me neither," She sighed, "Who would want to spend their entire day alone with Poseidon."

Triton had knocked on their chamber doors a while after Queen Lou was gone, informing his brother of the King's request for a private talk with his heir.

The wooden roofed, stone houses of the common folk appeared on the horizon, as Dunstan started to whistle a simple tune. Fire red and lilac flowers sprouted in between vividly green grass; she did not need to see Alabaster's face to know he was mentally cataloguing each of them, and their uses. A shepherd was dozing under the shade of a massive tree, biting into a ripe fruit as their sheep grazed near them, only to scatter farther into the meadow at the sight of the guards trotting behind the carriage.

She had never experienced much of Epirus's flora during the few meager trips she had taken to the kingdom with her mother; the Empress having always had a reason for why she should stay in the palace. The one time she had relented, had been the time the weather decided against her wishes. The palace had been buried in snow till the third story, effectively trapping all of its residents inside until the end of their visit.

"What's up with your husband recently, anyway?" Alabaster grumbled, shifting closer to her.

Annabeth exhaled, tugging at her collar, "It's our wedding anniversary next week."

"What?" Alabaster faux-gasped, "He got cold feet? I would take his place in a heartbeat."

She cackled, "Dear gods, jewel. No, no."

"What in the Underworld is his problem then?!" He threw his hands on air, "Snapping at people left and right. I know it's not my drinking."

She chuckled, letting her eyes wander to the cobblestoned streets. Crowds of people were going on about their day, giving their chariot a wide berth, but not without the whispers.

For a second, fear speared through her heart. Maybe they should had opt for a closed carriage. These were Alabaster's people. Could he use the opportunity to rally them behind himself?

His face was tense, his shoulders hunched as his eyes darted around like a cornered animal's.

"He misses his home, I think," Annabeth reached out, feeling the tan leather of his gloves in her hand. "His hometown, Grover, Rachel... his mom."

"Does he now?" Alabaster flattened.

She shrugged, "The approaching anniversary must have reminded him that she wasn't allowed at our wedding."

"I see." 

"You like Sally!" She frowned at his tone.

"Maybe." He clicked his tongue, narrowing his eyes, "Kind of hard not to."

Annabeth slumped, "It would had been nice to have her there. Or if Poseidon let her come when Percy was dying."

"So she could see your wedding gift?" A sharp hiss left Alabaster's lips.

"No!" She let out a strangled sound, "Al, no! That's not what I meant—"

"I am not particularly feeling sympathetic towards the man who sent my mother off to her death." Alabaster linked their fingers, tugging at his pendant with the other.

"Sometimes you talk of him like he's a terrible person," Annabeth mumbled, averting her eyes in shame.

Alabaster cackled, the bitter sharp thing not matching the flush of his cheeks and the warmth of his eyes, "We are all terrible people, Annie. The sooner you accept that, the happier all three of us will be."

She swallowed down the teary lump lodged inside her throat, opening her mouth to refute him, when the horses reared up, the carriage throwing itself to a side street.

They fell down from their plush seat, and right onto the carriage's wooden floor.

"Dunstan!" Alabaster shouted, "What's happening?"

From the corner of her eyes, a guard drew their sword, raising it against the driver.

"A scuffle is happening farther down the main street, sir." Dunstan whipped the horses, "Some people attacking soldiers."

Alabaster's face shifted through all of dawn's colours as he scowled. Perhaps she needed not fear that he'd have the sudden desire to call it quits in the most dramatic way as was his fashion. His royal upbringing still outweighed his feelings of duty to his people, after all.

Her eyes surveyed the street, before they landed on a glittering shop almost hidden by the grimy houses it was stashed between.

"Wait here." She said and jumped down the carriage.

Annabeth motioned for the guards to stay with her lover, the soles of her boots pounding on the cobblestones. The people around her scattered, curtains and doors being shut close, and parents yanking their children closer upon the sight of her.

It was a small jewellery shop, a decayed wooden sign hanging over the window. 'Grays' was written on it with neat handwriting. She clutched her purse, and tapped on the glass.

An old woman opened the coloured window panes, peering at her customer. Her hair had faded to a snowy white, her eyes glinting akin to a diamond's sharp edge. Her weathered face reminded Annabeth of her old marble masters, those who gave little care she was royalty and hadn't hesitated give her a tongue lashing whenever her pride came before her willingness to learn.

"How can I help you, your Highness?" The woman— Gray? She was going to call her Gray— asked, her voice faint with age.

"You know me?" Annabeth blurted out.

Gray arched an eyebrow, pointedly glancing at her pearl earrings, Sthenian suit, and most importantly, her crown. Right.

She cleared her throat, lifting herself on her toes to take a good look at the wares hung behind Gray. Chains of bronze and other sorts of shiny metal were tied around planks, thick bracelets on racks. Chunky earrings were stuck to a pillow mounted on the wall, right next to a pinned drawing of a woman with a noose around her neck. Morbid decor, if you asked her. The jewellery shone every time the light hit them, the gems on them twinkling.

Her mouth dried. She had to pick something Alabaster would wear on his own volition, pretty but light. Charming enough that the Atlantean courtiers would know he was protected but not so much to the point of creating conspirators. Something even the most mean pawnbroker would pay a hefty price for, so that if Alabaster ever ran off he'd have his own money to fall back on.

She searched around for her money pouch to buy time, lest she stand around awkwardly. Her eyes caught onto a pair of emerald earrings, the precious stones centered on engraved rectangular bronze. She pointed, "How much are those?"

"8 pieces of copper-gold." Gray's voice dulled out.

Annabeth squinted at the cardboard propped up against the farther wall. "Ma'am, unless my eyes deceive me, that says 4 for a simple pair of earrings such as this!"

"Blood has stained multiple families for those simple emeralds, girl!" She snarled, causing her to flinch when Gray slammed her hands on the counter, "Eight copper-gold. You certainly can afford it."

Her knees weakened, "I would pay you double the amount if you were an extraordinary craftswoman! But what I see is you scamming the Sthenian Crown by overcharging me, Ms. Gray!"

"Maybe your eyes are deceiving you. It's Mrs. Graces. Not Gray." The woman covered, her lips pursed and twitching, "My apologies, your Highness. My eyesight has gotten worse in my age, I must have read it wrong."

"Have someone read you the correct prices next time." Annabeth stared at her feet, ashamed of her own outburst.

"I did have my children for that. A pair of twins and my youngest." Graces pushed the earrings wrapped with brown paper across the counter, her voice wavering, "The elders perished in the trenches, and my daughter died when your mother's soldiers invaded our house."

Her blood ran cold.

"May the Empress never live through my pain, that is if Pluto finds her soul worthy." She hissed, her eyes cutting her to the core.

Annabeth wordlessly left ten pieces of copper-gold on the counter, her fingers curled tight around the brown bag as she hastened back to her carriage, trying to shake off Graces's judgemental glare.

Alabaster welcomed her by patting the seat next to him.

She climbed up, organising her thoughts while Dunstan cracked his whip, urging the horses to continue their work again.

Annabeth took a deep breath, smiling and handing the paper bag to Alabaster, "Go on. Put them on."

"What's the catch?" He rasped, "You bought me jewellery again."

"Take it as an apology." She added on at his questioning eyebrow raise.

As much as Alabaster's face blanked whenever Annabeth had gotten him gifts, he could not deny he preferred them to Poseidon's pick of ornaments.

Alabaster shook his head, half in exasperation, half in fondness, and carefully unwrapped the earrings. His lips pressed tight, his throat bobbing as if he swallowed hard. With shaking hands, he wore them on.

Annabeth gave him an encouraging nod, beaming. "Green does suit you!"

"Thank you." He murmured, hiding his face while trying to settle in her arms.

She flicked lightly at his new earrings, watching the sun sparkle off of them, "A break from Atlantis would do us both wonders. It's why I've been looking forward to our anniversary, and this trip."

"Your anniversary." Alabaster said, "You and Percy’s."

"Well, you're still counted, dear." She planted a chaste kiss on his forehead.

"I'm not the one married," He pulled away, clasping his hands and inspecting the leather, "You'll be the one taking a vacation to Thera."

"Hey, at least my mother won't be joining us again." Annabeth winked. She'd rather do without the mess that their honeymoon had been for a second time, "Plus we'll be taking you with us."

"Of course, Princess!" Alabaster howled, "And I'd be dutifully awaiting you in your chambers while Perseus and you enjoy the married life, yes? I will keep myself entartained in my isolation, do not fret. Do not worry about packing your luggage either!"

He crossed his arms, burying his face in Percy’s coat, angry hiccups muffled by the fabric. Her heart was set ablaze, searing her chest and lungs by the mere thought that he felt himself so unloved. Her familiar fears choked her, making it hard to breathe. She reached, gently cupping his cheek and tilting his face towards her, "Jewel... we would never. You're not getting abandoned, and you're not getting locked up. Even if Poseidon gives direct orders for that."

"I demand at least half of your holiday to be spent with me." He sniffed, the frown on his mouth looking less like one, and more like a pout. An adorable one. "You can have your alone time when I'm drunk or whatever."

"Of course," Annabeth huffed, rubbing soothing circles on the apples of his face, "Jealous, are we?"

"What of it?" Alabaster all but melted into her touch, bottom lip sticking out.

She leant in, moving to kiss off the echoes of his scowl at the same time as he pulled her close, a hand on the back of her head—

"We're here, sire!" Dunstan shouted, impressively not flinching away from the twin looks of annoyance they sent his way.

Sighing, Alabaster helped her down the carriage and linked their fingers together. He gritted out, "Thank you, Dunstan."

A walkway with patterned tiles stretched across them, rows and rows of trees lining up the sides. Arches rose between them, banners and flowers hung off the marble.

"Perhaps their Highnesses would want a cloak?" The driver shuffled on his feet, a bundle of dark fabric in his arms, "For anonymity. Things have been... difficult, for Epirus, recently."

They shared a glance, before nodding and donning on the woolen cloaks, despite the summer sun shining above them.

A breeze brought the sweet scent of camellias to their noses as they lazily strolled on, taking in the sights. The sun warmed their skin, their boots creating a not unpleasant rhythm. The road was mostly secluded, a family of four singing their hearts out. The tiles were arranged in such a way that they depicted Proserpina's ascend to godhood, if she remembered it well. Murals of flowers framed the road and climbed the arches, just like the ivy vines sprouting in-between the incandescent banners.

"It'd be more festive here if we came by spring," Alabaster hummed, "The folk celebrate the end of winter when the first snow melts."

"That'd be nice to see. You'll have to show me sometime," Annabeth said. Some little pretending never hurt anyone, especially if it was about the likelihood of him being able to take her to an Epirus festival.

A dog raced down the street, followed by two more.

"Lapis would love this," He chuckled to himself.

"You should have brought her," Annabeth grinned.

In hindsight, she was a bit surprised that he easily brought up the little ball of cloudy fur Sally Blofis had gifted him into conversation; what with Gale nearly mauling him yesterday, even after he had practically hand-raised her.

"Please. She would keel over at the slightest weather change." Alabaster scoffed, "Useless little waste of space."

Annabeth made it a point to sigh throughly. One would think Alabaster hated his dog, considering the way he spoke off her. It didn't help that after they returned from their honeymoon he had shirked off all his responsibilities to servants, and kept the puppy confined to his unused bedroom. But she couldn't mistake him as uncaring, no; not when she saw how he fussed over Lapis for the tiniest of scratches after he took her on a walk, or how it was not unusual of Annabeth to find Alabaster asleep on a sofa, the dog curled under his shirt.

And the obvious affection lacing his tongue. That helped, too. Even though he scrunched his face every time an Atlantian noble lady passed him by with the same breed of dog in her purse.

Perhaps Lapis had given him something to live for.

"Don't be mean to her," Annabeth jokingly chided, giggling.

Alabaster snickered, lightly punching her arm. The more they walked, the less people were around. Soon, it was just the two of them, and the mountains looming on the horizon. The capital town's silhouette stood glaring at their backs. His laughter quietened, his body tensing before his shoulders drooped.

Alabaster whirled around, staring at the town at the distance, longing carved on his whole face, "...all of these were mine to command."

Her insides shattered at his pained whisper. She placed a hand on his back, "You can cry if you want."

"I will not." He stomped towards a tree, sinking on his knees and leaning on the bark's base.

Annabeth sat next to him, uncaring if her light pants dirtied. She intertwined their fingers, bringing them to her chin and rested them under it, giving a comforting squeeze.

He shuddered, eyes shut tight, "I— All of these were mine, mine."

"I know, jewel. I know," She murmured, "May I?"

Alabaster nodded at her outstretched arms, throwing himself in her embrace and burying his head in the crook of her neck. She drew him close, holding onto his trembling body.

He did ended up crying.

The old town tavern stood before them in all it's oaken glory, laughter and the enticing food smell becoming them in. Patrons were chattering and drinking and eating, the handful amount of servers buzzing between tables. A group of women were loudly playing cards in one corner, a drunken couple swaying to nonexistent music together. A man with leather pockets sewn on his worn coat was trying to hand off a stack of papers to an apprehensive looking crowd.

"I'll get the food, you go to the second floor." Annabeth pressed her lips to his knuckles.

Alabaster shook his head, pulling the hood of his cloak lower, and headed for the stairs while she veered for the bar top. She ordered, grabbing the goblets in one hand and the plates on other, having slipped the bottle she was given in under her arm.

Alabaster awaited her at a corner table, fingers tapping on the wood. He smirked, "Bet you're missing the pockets of Sthenian dresses now, right Ann?"

Annabeth let out a hearthy laugh, placing the plates on the table and settling across him, "They'd certainly fit the bottles."

"Hm, I really disliked their wide silhouette that time my family were sent a few as gifts. The pockets were nice, though." He said, "Better than the satchels here everyone pretends that work."

The cackles of a group of four echoed through the room, the person standing on his chair spinning his red scarf around as he cracked joke after joke.

Annabeth smiled, treating themselves to a rich pour of wine, "Don't tell my husband."

Alabaster's eyes widened with hunger at the sight of the goblet full of crimson, "Annabeth, you're the best!"

"He just worries about you, you know." She sighed. Although she wouldn't deny that Alabaster's drinking problem sure was beneficial to her at times, like say, when she wanted to spread rumours, courtiers distracted or have a spy that no one would take seriously enough to mind their mouths around.

"He's killing me is what he's doing." He gulped down a mouthful, a bashful look to his face as he leant backwards on his seat.

The gathered miners next to them were heatedly discussing some topic out of the reach of her ears, gesturing a lot.

"How much did you pay?"

"About 30 copper-gold," She waved her hand.

Alabaster booed, "If Chancellor Claymore was right these should have costed under 15."

Annabeth shifted uncomfortably in her seat at the memory of Mrs. Graces's cutting gaze, "Your mother's Chancellor, yes?"

"Mhmm, absolute drunkard. Always told him he'd suit the life of a scholar better," His face fell, "He was hung, I assume."

She inhaled sharply, "I'm so—"

"And the food too!" Alabaster shovelled some of the salty pie into his mouth, swallowing with a look of pure distaste, "This place is supposed to be one where aristocracy can mingle with the common folk without letting themselves be known and forsaking the quality of food they're used to!"

Sthenias rarely had such places, the nobles having had taken different means to spy on their subjects, "I assumed this was how it's made."

"No, no," He swirled his goblet, rolling his eyes, "It's missing like half the vital spices."

The red scarfed man called over one of the miners, after hearing them chuckle at his one-man jester show.

Alabaster discreetly pointed at him and his group, "They attend to your bedchambers."

"Do they now?" She raised her eyebrows, "Huh."

Now that she squinted, she could make out the blonde woman as the one who found Alabaster after having vomited his guts out on the carpet that one time.

"Are you planning on clearing out things with your sister?" She asked, choosing to not let him know what she recalled.

"Maybe." Alabaster knit his brows, "Are you planning on talking with your mom?"

"Maybe." She repeated him, the way her mother spoke of Al churning in her mind. She sipped some wine to ease her tension, preparing herself for her question, "Hey jewel?"

"Yes?"

"If," She took a deep breath, "If Percy was a bad person... would you..?"

"Would I what?" He crossed his arms, "Help you get rid of him?"

She nodded.

Alabaster blinked, "Seriously, are you two getting divorced?"

"No!" She hissed.

Just then, one of the Epirusian men sitting at the now shared table, slammed his fist to the wood, "That little traitor!"

Alabaster cocked his head, "Percy isn't an awful man, and you're not getting divorced. Why ask then?"

Annabeth huffed, "Pretend I am married to someone else then, a wretched selfish man. Would you assist me?"

A young boy ran inside, breathing heavily and clutching his chest.

"Sure," He shrugged his shoulders, "I'd poison him and throw his body in a well."

Relief flooded her, though she couldn't resist the urge to tease him, "How unoriginal, I've a better idea."

"Go on, then."

"We make his poisoning look self inflicted, of course." She booped his nose.

Alabaster burst into a wheezing fit, shaking his head in approval. While they were playing up and dramatising the way she could dispose of her so-called evil husband, a heavily armoured guard barged in, clad in the Alliance's colours.

"You!" The guard bellowed, cracking a whip at the boy.

They glanced at eachother nervously, shutting up and scooting towards the other.

The boy dropped a satchel on the floor, covering his face as precious stones spilled on the floor.

"Thief!" The guard swung his whip again.

"I am not!" The boy shrieked.

"You stole from—"

"Hey! Hey, what's going on here?!" One of the miners squared up the guard, putting himself in front of the boy.

"He stole from hard-earned gems of the—"

"Of our oppressors?" The boy spat, "These are my share! I work in the mines, you untimely cock! Not my fault you cannot differentiate between payment and wares—"

The guard whipped him.

The tavern burst into cacophony, people yelling and shouting and shoving eachother.

"You dare hit a kid!"

"Is this how Her Majesty's kingdom is now?!"

A woman jumped on a table, "How dare you, you—"

More guards climbed up the second floor, joining the chaos.

A quick look at Alabaster confirmed him white faced, eyes bulged in horror. He whispered, grabbing her by arm, "Let's swish."

She didn't let him repeat it twice.

They abandoned their food, clinging to their cloaks as they tried to squeeze between the people towards the stairs. Unfortunately, the shouting had evolved into a full on bar fight, semi sober patrons swinging fists at not only the guards but also at eachother.

Someone yanked at her elbow, and she instinctively drew out her dagger, slashing towards the person pulling her, her good falling down through the process. It cut their face, blood dripping to the floor.

She cursed under her breath as the nearest people turned towards her.

"That's the Princess!" The boy gasped.

Alabaster took out his own blade, the letter opener's edge glinting.

They ran, as fast as they could. She dodged an impending fist. Jumped over a few legs. A stinging pain stabbed at her scalp as someone pulled her hair. She whirled, digging her thumbs into the assaulter's eyes. They howled.

Alabaster had lost his own cloak in the meantime. He punched a man under the jaw, staggering towards the stairs and holding his letter opener in front of him like a shield.

Annabeth yanked at a woman's hair, using the momentum to throw herself at the stairs. She tumbled down, her vision going black as she rolled. Thankfully, people had seemed to have forgotten her, more focused on Alabaster on the ground.

"Don't you know who I am?!" He yelled, his voice cracking.

"Yes, sir!" A man mock-saluted, kicking at Alabaster's stomach, "Infantry troop seven. Sent home by you due to an injury."

She saw red. Annabeth aimed her dagger, and threw it right at the man's heart. He fell backwards, driving the crowd away slightly in addition. Alabaster crawled down the stairs, pulling her into a hug as they both struggled to their feet.

They hobbled down to first floor, desperate to get distance between them and the angry mob.

Alabaster opened his mouth, when he, and with that also she, was wrenched towards a nook in the wall. The leather pocket-ed man she saw on entrance shushed them. His black hair fell on his forehead, a familiar set of eyes stared at her, though she couldn't shake off the feeling the man had to have just one.

"Mr Nakamura?"

Chapter Text

"Oh do not be so shocked," The Lady said once they've both settled in the sole balcony of Lou's chambers, "You're a young unmarried queen in a vulnerable position. A proposal was bound to come."

Lou Ellen pursed her lips, gazing ahead the bannisters to avoid Artemis's wolfish stare. They weren't too high from the ground, what with the balcony looking towards the mountains the palace was built on. The rocky terrain greeted her eyes, the jutting spikes reaching up to the palace walls. If she jumped now, she could dissappear in one of the countless caves, presumably with only broken legs. Just one, if luck favoured her.

"You are an unmarried queen," she clicked her tongue.

Pretty famous one, at that. Rumour was it that Queen Lady Artemis had took all her suitors on hunting trips to the lush greens surrounding Delphi, before setting her arrows towards them instead of deers. Probably had her retinue of girls clean the flesh off the bones too.

Artemis flashed her a sight of her sharp canines, "Marriages are politics, child. Nothing more, nothing less. And since when has Delphi fallen in need of desperate alliances?"

She gripped the cold marble of the bannisters to stop herself from gnawing on her lips. Behind her Palas shifted, careful eyes trained on the situation. Prince Wilhelm had stayed back in the drawing room, and thankfully kept his flowers with him.

True enough to the other monarch's words, Delphi had never hit the bottom of the well as well as Epirus had. However, as much as Lou was naive to certain political nuances, she was sure that had been less about Delphi's prosperity and more so about the influence of the Olympian Alliance.

And the healers they supplied to the other nations.

After all, without those, why would anyone go under treaty with a king so flippant?

"And does King Lord Apollo intend to honour the potential alliance for more than a few months?" Lou scoffed.

"You'll have my brother's and mine word. On the House of Leto." Artemis nodded.

Had you gave your word to his brides too, she held her tongue. Lou Ellen had only lived for eighteen years, but in the meantime the king had changed spouses almost yearly, the previous one dropping like a mayfly before he married anew.

There was only so much sudden sicknesses, jousting accidents or falling off cliffs one could claim before it raised suspicions.

Lady Diana changing his queen to a laurel tree? Downright unbelievable.

What had the poor woman done to get executed in secret the very night of her wedding? Try to annul the marriage before it even happened?

No wonder Hecate hadn't entartained the thought of a continuous trade agreement with Delphi, despite how their healers could use Epirus's flora and how their experts could use the knowledge of Delphi's healers.

"Epirus will not be marrying into Delphi." Palas stomped once, her steel toe clanging against the stone.

"That's not your decision to make." Artemis's ice cold words swept over them.

"As her Majesty's advisor—"

"As her advisor you should learn to stay silent and listen to proposals concerning the kingdom you serve." The Queen's upper body tensed, putting her forearm muscles on display, "Although it is debatable which one that is."

"Are you accusing me of scheming?" Palas whispered in that low, melodic tone of hers; the one she'd use as she ordered Lou to be dragged and locked in her bedchambers like an impertinent kid, whenever she got a little too bold on disagreeing with the Sthenian policies.

"No need for that here, Palas." Artemis said, "We all know Epirus is a vassal state. Drop the niceties."

"I'm just doing my duty."

"And right now, I'm telling you to leave." She hissed, "lest I put an arrow through your ears the next time I hold my bow."

"So Delphi can freely exploit Epirus?" Palas laughed, "Not on my watch, ma'am, no."

A shadow of annoyance and frustration clouded over Artemis's face, before she sighed and waved her hand in air, "Ah, just shut then."

Lou shuffled on her feet, discreetly picking at her cuticles. Her mom and Alabaster had used to sideline her as casually as the current moment as well, forgetting her presence while they delved deeper and deeper into their talks of politics. She couldn't help but get the impression she was nothing more than a mere child, her existence only allowed in case the unthinkable happened to mother's heir. Such was the purpose of spares.

If, and she kept telling herself of the if, she was hurt by it, she kept it to herself.

But being thrown aside despite the crown on her head was a graver insult.

She cleared her throat, attempting to reestablish her feeble authority, "What would I hypothetically gain from this... alliance?"

Artemis tilted her head, "A stadious supply of gold in exchange of herbal plants, for one. I understand Sthenias would be displeased with Epirus gaining some semblance of financial independence—"

Palas sneered, "It's not independence if we're reliant on Delphi, is it?"

"We?" The Queen hummed, "Since when do you consider yourself Epirian?"

Palas flushed, colour flooding from her hairline to the insides of her collar. Lou rocked on her heels, annoyance thrumming through her veins at the two women's insistence on bickering, however entertaining Palas getting insulted might be.

"What does Delphi stand to gain from this?" Palas tugged at her ponytail.

"Now why would I tell you that?" Artemis cackled.

Lou raised her voice, "I have no intention of getting—"

"Would you not want a family?"

A gasp punched through her teeth.

"Your mother has been taken from life, and your brother from you," Artemis continued, "Would you not want a mother, a father, siblings or an aunt? People who can take you under their wing and provide you with the comfort you crave in matters of heart and brain."

Lou swallowed, the weight of Palas's hand bruising her skin through the cloth, "I—"

Had Artemis pitched the same lines to her retainers before they had a chance to be married?

"Would you at least give my nephew a chance? Spend time with him. Think the offer over." A soft smile graced her lips.

"She'd need a chaperone for that." The advisor butted in, "Preferably, a male family member."

Lou begrudgingly thanked Palas for handing her an out in her thoughts. She leant inside the chambers, stopping a maid, "Where's my brother? Send a summon to the Atlantean guests's chambers."

No doubt, her brother would find a way to halt the proposal in its tracks.

"Ma'am—" The maid stammered, inching on herself, "the Princess took him to an outing just now."

Dread pooled in the depths of her stomach.

"Do not worry, Majesty." Artemis's bared her teeth in a smile, "It would be better for me to chaperone in either way."

A single look confirmed that Palas would not protest.

Damn you, Alabaster, Lou growled inwardly.

Firstly, Palas as usual was more of a fetter than help. Secondly, Lou was overrun with endless demand papers from the allied kingdoms. Lastly, a prince from one of those very kingdoms's insisted on preventing her from work.

A prince who probably needed to go get his eyes checked by the healers his kingdom was oh so proud of. If Lou heard one more single line of poem reciting her dark curls as glossy as coal, the resemblance of her bestowed skin to uncut marble, the pomegranate juice colouring her otherwise bare face on lips and cheeks—

She wasn't even going to dawdle on her supposed husky voice, the top hat obscuring the ruthless gleam in her midnight eyes or gods forbid, the constant metaphors about how Wilhelm wouldn't mind being the sun overshadowed by the eclipse of her greatness, if she just allowed even a single ray of his warmth inside the frozen fortress of her heart.

All of which, made concentrating on her paperwork considerably harder.

Palas, unsurprisingly, did not shoo the nephew and aunt duo out of her office, being captured by her work. She needed to take matters into her own hands.

"My lady, it is really admirable how much work you go through daily," Wilhelm whispered, eyes blown wide and lashes lowered.

She blinked. Right. Wilhelm wasn't even a spare of a spare; he was his father's seventh son. He could count himself lucky if he ever saw the throne room's dais.

Gods. Saying that she'd go through it faster without any interruption was so tempting. How unfortunate that the rules of polite society restricted her.

"Thank you, Lord Solace," she gritted out, an ill feeling encompassing her.

Queen Lady Artemis had her eyes trained on the two of them, like a hawk surveying her prey.

"You have excellent penmanship," Wilhelm crossed his legs in the seat next to her desk, the one her mother had used to reserve for Alabaster, "I am quite fond of the art of the quill. I practice it too."

She hummed. Yes, she clearly couldn't get that from his incessant poetry.

The proposals and tariff demands and thinly veiled orders in disguise started blurring in front of her vision.

"That's a wonderful pursuit, your Highness." Lou forced a smile, "Though, would you excuse me? I fear I am not able to catch all the intricacies of your craft at the time."

"But of course!" He bobbed his head, sending a skittish look behind his shoulder, "Lady Aunt, may I..?"

She nodded, her nephew fleeing the room at her command. Palas frowned, following the boy with her stack of files. Artemis's eyes pinned Lou in her seat, "I suppose you won't need to chaperone me now."

"I suppose not." Artemis said, voice dropping, "I have a request for the next time, however."

The next time... Lou's stomach churned.

"Pick a chaperone other than your brother," Artemis curled her upper lip, "I do not want someone whose clothes are bordering indecency near my nephew. Especially if you are to be married."

Alabaster had been freshly one month off his mourning garb for 'his twin' when he had officially met the Head of the Royal Guard's son. Their first meeting had happened a whole week earlier, though.

Alabaster had decided the night was the perfect cover to get rid of his old dresses and gowns, only to see a scrawny child, perhaps a little older than the prince, had had the same idea. The boy had his own pile of fabric, and into the well they went, along with Alabaster's remarkably more expensive ones.

He hadn't known Ethan Nakamura was Captain Nemesis's son that night, just that they shared the same secret.

Alabaster had kept an eye on his training after that. Nemesis had been a great warrior, no one could fault him in getting curious if her son took after her.

And Ethan, Alabaster's sweet, ever loyal Ethan, had not disappointed.

He had risen through the ranks so fast that in a year's time, they were permitted to spar with eachother. Though, he had also taken pleasure in watching Ethan fight with his mother, their movements a perfect mixture of sharpness and fluidity: the Head of the Royal Guard and the future lieutenant to the Prince's Armies.

It was a spar like this that had led to Ethan losing his eye. One second, Alabaster was sharpening his sword across them; the next, Ethan was on the grass and holding his face, blood dripping off Nemesis's pike. A simple training accident had ended up with the healers insisting that they take his eye in case of an infection.

That had been when Alabaster insisted that his friend be treated in the Royal Palace, where he could access the best treatment Epirus had to offer. Alabaster had sat on the front row of the operating theatre the whole time, anxious prayers pouring out of his mouth for Ethan's life. How Ethan had squirmed at the amount of courtiers who had came to the surgery for their daily entertainment; not that it had mattered to Alabaster after he saw Ethan walking and well again, only with one less eye.

He did remember Ethan's father, however. The man had practically burst down the palace doors, pacing up and down in panic as he awaited the healers's verdict on his son's health.

The very same man that had saved them today.

Mr Nakamura shushed them, pointing one finger to the cacophony outside the little nook they hid in. An old man flew past their spot, swinging his fist as he descended on another.

Having nothing better to do, Alabaster turned his gaze towards the people he was pressed against. Smile lines surrounded the frown on Nemesis's husband's face, his dull black hair, streaked with greys, fell over his eyes. Annabeth’s shirt was dishevelled, her collar unbuttoned. The torch lights illuminated the side of her face, an orange glow on her sweet-as-honey features. His heart rabbited inside his chest, yearning to hold and prep kisses to her soft cheeks until they could leave.

He had to make do with burying his face on her shoulder instead.

"I'm so glad I didn't wear a dress today," She murmured, hugging him.

Alabaster softly chuckled against her neck.

Mr Nakamura peered outside, took a sharp breath and nudged towards the backdoor of the tavern. Annabeth yanked at Alabaster's hand, pulling him along as they dashed behind Mr Nakamura. They emerged into a narrow side street, stuck between dusty houses that looked on the verge of falling apart.

Mr Nakamura sighed, dusting off his jacket and ran a hand through his hair, "We can go to my house from this way, your Highness."

"Pardon?" Annabeth’s voice echoed, her hand clasped around Alabaster's forearm. Her body tensed, her other hand balled into a fist, her eyes narrowed.

"Annabeth, meet Mr Nakamura," he awkwardly coughed, "Sir, this is Princess Annabeth of Sthenias."

Mr Nakamura bowed his head, at the same time as Annabeth blurted out, "You're Ethan's father."

"Don't address him like you know him." Alabaster snapped.

"I'll address him however I please." She snorted, "Possessive of your lieutenant, are you?"

"You already make it damn hard to even see a strand of his hair." He couldn’t suppress the snarl, "Excuse me if I want to keep his name to myself."

"Absolutely not. Have you seen the way he looks at you?" Annabeth pushed him towards the wall, gripping and pinning his shoulders against the bricks.

Alabaster laughed, wrapping his arms around her neck, "Are you seriously getting jealous right now?"

Annabeth’s mouth twitched, her bottom lip sticking out in a pout. Desire scraped the insides of his throat. Annabeth lunged forward—

"My son—" Mr Nakamura choked, "Is he..."

Disappointment filled underneath his tongue.

"He's fine, sir." Annabeth’s gaze softened, "He is employed in King Poseidon's personal army."

"I see..."

He sent her a look. 'Employed' was not the word he'd use to describe Ethan's situation.

Caressing her cheek with a thumb, Alabaster waved his other hand in air, "Please, sir. If you would. We'd be safer in your house until the crowd settles down."

The man shut his eyes, bunching up his face in pain and motioned for them to follow him. They trotted after him through the cobblestoned road, the streets bare except for some stray cats and the three of them. Annabeth slipped her hand inside his, interweaving their fingers.

"Are you alright?" She whispered, voice wavering.

Alabaster swallowed. Agitation and trepidation still stung beneath his skin, panic squeezing his heart. The summer sun had brought back the stink of the trenches, as if every person who had yanked and yelled in the tavern had carried a cart full of corpses. Even when he was sure there were no odd noises, he could hear his boots squelch from the nonexistent blood that filled them up.

It reminded him of Perseus confiding in him during a day where the Prince had taken him on a fishing trip; that he couldn't bear being in boats anymore after the war, that he had to at least have the knowledge someone else was near. How he was afraid to look deep into the water due to seeing floating bodies that weren't actually there.

"Fine," he lolled his tongue, "You, Bethie?"

"Yeah," She squeezed his hand, "I lost my dagger, though. Good thing it wasn't the sentimental one."

He brought her hand to his lips, pressing a chaste kiss on her knuckles. She probably would had teared up if she ever lost the blade Lord Luke had gifted her when she was a child. After all, there was no way he'd do the same now. Like how the same king that had joked around with Alabaster's mother and mentioned him being a cute kid, was the same one as the one openly leering and forcing him into increasingly shameless clothing.

Mr Nakamura fidgeted with his coat in front of them, briefly lingering near a post. Annabeth glared, hastening her steps to see what had piqued his interest, only to let out a scream upon the answer. Alabaster caught up to them in curiosity.

He screeched.

A drawing of Queen Hecate, his mother, with a noose around her neck was pinned to the post. Underneath it, in blocky handwriting was 'The Queen is dead, the throne is poached. Long live our oppressors.'.

"I think I saw the same poster in Mrs Graces's shop." Horror was etched into Annabeth’s face.

He did not ask who that was. His mother's eyes were wide open in anguish, her ever composed self nowhere to be found within the ink.

"It's becoming a common one," Mr Nakamura shrugged.

His mom's hair was loose, bruises painted along her neck.

Numbness descended upon his limbs, even as Mr Nakamura murmured reassurances that fell on Alabaster's deafened ears and pulled them along.

Alabaster had not taken the revelation that Ethan was also in Atlantis well. With that, he meant that he had emptied his stomach right onto Perseus's boots in the middle of the courtyard after seeing Ethan change shift with another guard.

No shock that the existence of posters mocking his mother's death uneased his stomach too, then.

Mr Nakamura's humble cottage resided just out of the reach of the main road, closer to the paths leading to the palace. Part of a series of two storey houses built upon rough stone flooring that stretched before and after it, leaving the cheap wooden building to look out of place.

Shouting and yells rang behind them.

Mr Nakamura fumbled with the front door, swinging it open and nearly tripping over his own feet as he gestured inside, "Please, Highnesses make yourselves at home."

"You don't need to call him that," Annabeth patted Alabaster's hand, "He's no longer a prince."

With that, she sauntered inside, uncaring of Alabaster's souring face or Mr Nakamura's appalled scowl. The man's eyes lingered on his Sthenian attire, then to the Atlantis's seal on the coat, "Is she always like this?"

"I'm used to it," he shrugged, rolling his eyes in affection, and entered the house. Which was worse, he was not certain, the times the couple forgot he used to be a prince or the times they did not. Perhaps it was when Perseus called him 'Your Highness' in private.

Mr Nakamura's cottage consisted of one room that had the sitting area, the oven and a table, with various knicknacks strewn near the walls, one door that probably led to his bedroom, and a ladder that went up to the second floor.

"Can we explore?" He asked after noticing Annabeth’s wide eyed stare.

"As you wish."

Alabaster chuckled at Annabeth’s little excited bounce, exhaling while she started rummaging through a pile of books, and turned his head towards the man, "One of my own soldiers hated me."

He tried to keep his tone as nonchalant as possible, as if it wasn't bothering him.

"You'll have to excuse them, sir." Mr Nakamura's eyes flashed, "If they're a bit peeved about starving while their crown prince is lounging in the lap of luxury. For all they know."

Ridiculous! Alabaster choked out an amalgamation of a scoff and a laugh. Lap of luxury? He had kept them safe for the entire duration of the war, and this was how they were repaying him? If they were so sure of his comfort, they could trade places. Alabaster would love to see them after a few months of subjugation to leering, having their choices stripped away and being paraded between courtiers as a trophy. See how they'd respond then.

Who dared to blame him for seeking after the reprieve the Prince and the Princess so eagerly offered?

Shaking his head in rage, Alabaster started climbing up the ladder. What awaited him was an attic, a pretty bare one that is. A battered sheet covered a large sack of hay, a single pillow upon the makeshift bed. Some rusting daggers was stabbed to the wall. The ceiling had a hole big enough to show the sky, and droplets dripped down the exposed roof onto the mattress.

A sob threatened the back of his throat as the realisation this was likely Ethan's room hit.

It was just like his Ethan to take the leaky spot to shield his parents from the elements.

Alabaster wouldn't be able to payback the amount of times Ethan had let him sleep and handled the military matters himself, not in this lifetime nor in the Underworld.

He leant down to fix the bed, having seen Hurley do it multiple times and having done it himself before the couple opened their room to him.

It was the least he could do.

Once he climbed down, he found Mr Nakamura stirring a pot on the oven and Annabeth tinkering with some boxes. Alabaster walked over, wrapping his arms around her waist, and rested his chin on her shoulder. A few drawings of Ethan and Captain Nemesis was stashed inside one of them, little notes added with blocky handwriting to the corners.

"What do you do for work, sir?" Annabeth held up a set of ceremonial arm guards, pristine feathers meticulously sewn on, jewels inlaid on the straps.

"I am a goose farmer," he said.

Alabaster hummed, "That's why you weren't drafted, correct? Supplied the army with food and repaired carriages?"

"Yes, sir." Mr Nakamura faced towards them, tilting his head. His whole demeanour softened at the sight of the arm guards, "I made those myself for my wife, as a wedding gift."

Alabaster's breath hitched at the last two words. Annabeth patted his head, "Captain Nemesis... " she sighed, "You must be a lucky man."

Awh, he had almost forgotten how Annabeth got flustered and red in the face at the presence of Captain Nemesis as a young girl.

"I miss them so much—" Mr Nakamura whirled around, almost sobbing.

Annabeth’s pleading reassurances went in and out of his ears while Alabaster roamed his eyes on the counter. Spare paper coated around the boxes, chopped and refined woods on them. A polished contraption sat in the middle of them.

"What is this?" He interrupted the two of them.

A piece of wood was bent in a curve, metal pieces near the leather-wrapped handle. Under his thick gloves, Alabaster could feel the mix-matched levers and clamps fiddle around at the bottom. A little pan was attached above them, right where the emptied out long barrel met the handle.

If nothing else, it reminded him of the canons on the battlefield.

Annabeth’s eyes widened at the same time as Mr Nakamura visibly paled. She grabbed a box, opening it to reveal a sort of black powder, the box filled to the brim, "Answer the question, mister."

"It's just a thing I've been working on." His voice was so low they almost didn't hear it, "Geese are vicious animals. If I need to put down one of my flock, I need to do it without getting bitten to death. They do have teeth, you know?"

"Show." Annabeth’s lips parted, her fingers curled protectively over the handle as she yanked it from him.

Mr Nakamura had a moment of hesitation, before bowing his head and led them to his garden. It wasn't a big thing, just a few weeds, local plants and geese. Lots of geese, all frolicking between the grass and pecking the dirt.

"How do you work this thing?" Annabeth fiddled with the levers, holding the barrel towards a beady eyed goose.

"I— You pull that clamp and lit the exposed filament." The man wrung his hands, shifting in place nervously, "But ma'am—"

"Is that it?" She demanded.

"Yes, ma'am." Mr Nakamura sent him desperate looks, "But it may fireback—"

"Take my gloves, Ann." Alabaster knit his brows.

Her lips quirked as she accepted them, "Thank you, jewel."

She put on the gloves, the leather snug around her wrists as she inhaled, took a stance and aimed.

A loud 'Bang!' rang in his ears.

Annabeth recoiled, smoke trailing out of the butt end of the barrel. Panicked honks overtook the air, feathers fluttering. A wounded goose laid on the soil, writhing in agony as it let out pitiful cries.

"It didn't die." Disappointment leaked out of her tongue, like she had came to the realisation it wouldn't kill a human.

"No," Mr Nakamura mumbled, "May I—"

Annabeth pulled the machine to her chest, staring at the man's outstretched open hands. For a second, Alabaster thought she'd refuse to give it back, a hungry glint in her steel eyes. She blinked, and almost shoved the thing into his hands, before dragging Alabaster inside the house.

"Annabeth—"

She shut him up with a kiss, brows furrowed the way they always were when she was scheming.

"It's a prototype, and not meant to be strong." Mr Nakamura explained once he was back with them, "Now would you like some soup? My neighbour gave me some for fixing her fence."

"It may not match the quality of the royal kitchens," Annabeth whispered to him from where she sat, swinging her legs under the table like a kid, "Please don't run your mouth unchecked."

Alabaster stared blankly. "Just how good do you think the dungeon slop was?"

If the wedding hadn't came the day it did, he'd had probably died of starvation in that dingy cell.

Guilt flashed akin to lightning breaking between storm clouds in her eyes, as she scooted her chair over to his and curled an arm around his shoulders, "You won't be down there ever again, jewel. Percy and I will protect you."

A quiet humourless laugh escaped past his lips. They weren't aware he was fed the same as whatever meager meal the servants were given when they weren't around, were they? They hadn't even put a thought in about his diet, despite complaining about how he got bonier. Why would they? All they needed to know was that their trophy was obediently tucked in bed, awaiting their return without causing any trouble.

She squeezed his knee, seemingly in comfort. Mr Nakamura made his way around the table, placing bowls in front of them. He was whistling a familiar tune, one Alabaster remembered Ethan singing during the nights the soldiers were keeping watch.

"Could you prepare and send the goose I killed to the royal kitchens?" Annabeth smirked at the man, "Tell the staff it's a gift for her Majesty from me."

He flinched, and coughed, "Of course."

"What are you playing at?" Alabaster hissed.

Annabeth batted her eyes, planting a kiss to his cheek, "Trying to get into your sister's good side? Now eat, jewel. You need it."

Huffing, Alabaster turned his gaze to the bowl in front of him. Thick, steaming broth was piping, a cloud hitting his face and filling his nostrils with a hearthy scent.

Nausea punched the lining of his stomach.

"Stop." Alabaster wrapped his hand around Annabeth’s wrist before she could bring the spoon to her mouth, "Join us, sir."

"I'm not hungry—"

"Eat." He raised his chin, "That's an order from your prince."

Annabeth, thankfully, did not comment on his past status, preferring to glower at Mr Nakamura above his shoulder instead.

Mr Nakamura carefully sat down, swallowing a spoonful of soup while glaring. He didn't keel over, though Alabaster would not apologise for the hidden accusation. It never hurted to be cautious.

Satisfied, he took a spoon of the meal. A burst of warmth enveloped him, his heart skipping a beat at the feeling of a tight hug sat inside his chest. A quick glance at Annabeth confirmed her to be having tears beneath her eyes.

The rest of the meal was spent in silence, with the two of them shoving the soup hastily into their mouths as to savour it the longest.

Once all of them were sure no rioting was going on, Annabeth and Alabaster headed outside. Dunstan and their chariot waited for them under an old tree, the guards a little behind him.

"To the palace, ma'am?" He readied the horses.

"Indeed."

In a few minutes, they were seated and headed towards the mountain the palace was carved into. Alabaster melted into Annabeth’s embrace, watching the trees and buildings and the commoners pass by.

"You didn't steal Mr Nakamura's little geese killer, did you?" He asked.

Her eyes twinkled, "Jewel, why would you ask that?"

He sighed in frustration. He hated when she got all cryptic.

A group of four caught his eye, especially the red scarf one of them wore. Alabaster told Dunstan to slow down and loudly whistled.

"Hop on!" He made sure to give them his most annoying grin.

Hurley's exasperated face was priceless.

Margot urged along her frozen coworkers into the carriage, and soon all four of them were sitting across him and Annabeth as the chariot continued its way.

Seeing how they got increasingly more uncomfortable at the Princess's presence was going to be vastly entertaining.

Perseus was wrapped in blankets, curled on the bed when they arrived to the palace. He blinked blearily at the two of them, slinking his legs over the mattress and walking over, the blankets dragged behind him like a cape. He rasped, "Hi."

Annabeth pulled him into a hug, kissing his nose, "Hi, dear. How was your day?"

"Good, good. I went out," He threw himself in Alabaster's arms, burying his face into the crook of his neck, "What didcha do?"

Alabaster and Annabeth shared a look, unanimously deciding to omit details. She grinned, gripping Alabaster's jaw, "Shopping. Do you like his new earrings?"

"Mhmm, suits him."

He squirmed under the attention, heat creeping up his neck.

"Are you alright?" Annabeth knit her brows as he asked, "Did your conversation with your father went bad?"

Perseus stumbled backwards, nodding his head excessively, "Yes, yes! I'm fine, it went well. We talked about the future of the Crown and my responsibilities as his heir, nothing much."

"That's nice."

"Are you hiding something?" Alabaster accused, crossing his arms.

Perseus jerked in place, "No?"

"Al..."

"What did you do after talking with your father?" He insisted, yanking the blanket off of him.

"I borrowed one of his sailor shirts and went to docks! What's up with you?" Perseus growled, hugging himself. Above his loose linen shirt, hung an unmistakably Epirian tunic, bright blue and hem trimmed with gems.

"What are you wearing?" Alabaster forced out, trying to control his heaving.

"I bought it from a stall," he said, tilting his head, "Why? Does it look bad?"

"Change." He gasped out, shaking.

"Jewel—"

"Why?"

Perseus's stupid crown sat crooked upon his curls, the jewels taken from his home shining under the light of the chandelier. His poor sword, poor Atalus, melted and forged into the shape of tridents.

"Change, Perseus." He stomped over, getting on his face.

And Perseus had his eyes on his kingdom's clothing?

"Alabaster, what's going on?" The man let out confused sputters, "I'm starting to think you are the one hiding something—"

"Change!" Alabaster screamed, latching onto his collar, "It's bad enough you're wearing Atalus, I won't have you wearing that tunic!"

Perseus's hand wrapped around his wrist, squeezing. Enough that Alabaster could feel it in his bones. A warning to watch where he put his hands. Perseus sighed, tenderly brushing his thumb on Alabaster's lower lip, "Alright. I'm sorry, I didn't think."

"Of course you didn't," Alabaster swallowed down the lump in his throat, rubbing his wrist close to his chest as he took a step backwards, and into Annabeth’s arms.

He sharply inhaled, clinging to Perseus's wife while he shirked off the tunic.

"Oh, jewel." Annabeth murmured, scratching the back of his head as Perseus draped himself over them.

"Just," he wheezed, "just tell me you love me."

"I do—" the voices blurred together, "You have no idea just how much—"

A whine tore out of his throat as he clung to them, basking in their embrace. Who did they love exactly? The crown prince of Epirus? Their wedding gift?

Who was he even anymore?

Had the straighlaced heir of Queen Hecate ever been his core?

A knock to the door yanked him out of his spiral. Perseus planted a kiss to his temple, moving to answer the door. He froze, saying something they couldn't hear to the person on the other side, and nodded.

He turned towards them, "Your sister is summoning you to her chambers."

He went. Another option was not to be considered when the crown summoned you.

Lou Ellen waited for him not in their mother's chambers, but her childhood bedroom.

Lou ushered him inside, sliding the bolt close after him. She grabbed a chair, and jabbed the back under the doorknobs. "I do not trust the guards."

Alabaster searched around the room to avoid looking at her, the shame of the morning heating up the underside of his heart. Unlike the rest of the palace, her rooms were as opulent as ever, gold and bronze and gemstones in every surface. Silk drapes hiding her bed behind their translucent cover. A sunflower bouquet filled up a vase in a corner.

This was the Epirus Alabaster remembered.

The only thing out of place was the giant portrait of himself, hung right across the bed.

He clasped his hands behind his back, pointing it out with his head, "Why is it there?"

"Either as a threat from Palas or what counts as consolation in Eudora's books, I haven't made my mind." Lou's voice rang clear as the winter sea, "We need to talk. Look at me, Alabaster."

"Your Majesty."

Lou was leaning against the wall, in formal regalia except for her lack of veil, in spite of the sun that had set long ago.

"Please," she started after a minute of silence, "We need to talk."

"About this morning?" Dread clogged his lungs, "I— Look, Lou. I meant to explain—"

"No, no! Not about that— You're doing what you have to do—" Her eyes widened, "I may be getting ma—"

Alabaster exhaled in relief, laughing, "Oh, thank the gods. We were worried how you'd take it."

"We?" Lou's voice dropped.

"Annabeth and Perseus?" He raised an eyebrow, "They're my lovers?"

"They are your—" Her jaw dropped, "You talk as if you're willing?"

Baffled, he blinked, "Well, of course."

"You do realise they're keeping you captive?" She tugged at her curls, disbelief seeping into her tone, "Surely you mind being treated as if you're some kept woman!"

"Sister, you're getting highly inappropriate!" He flushed.

"Inappropriate?!" Lou cackled, "What's inappropriate is the way you're dressed! You know what Lady Artemis told me? That she doesn't want you anywhere near Prince Wilhelm if we were to get married!"

She might as well had upended a whole bucket of ice cold water over his head, "Married? Why the fuck are you getting married? You're seventeen years of age, for gods's sake."

"Eighteen. Not that you were there. And don't change the subject," She sniffed, "They're hurting you, and it hurts me to see you wounded."

"Then close your eyes." He couldn’t believe they were doing this right now, "I did not pry into your letters with Princess Hazel and I'd appreciate if you gave me the same courtesy."

"What's wrong with Princess Hazel?" Lou cried out.

"Nothing! She is a lovely girl." Alabaster huffed, "It's her brother who I've a problem with."

The world had to fear the time when Prince Nico of Underworld with his conniving nature ascended his father's throne. The opportunistic prick had bloodied Epirus, then abandoned it to sharks.

Lou strided forwards, "Then why bring her up?"

"The point is," he hissed through his teeth, "do not scrutinise my relationship when I—"

"Relationship," she sneered, "Is that what they call it?"

How incompetent was he in her eyes?

"Lou Ellen—"

"I cannot believe your head is so high up in fairytales that you cannot differentiate between love and methodes of control."

What? Did she think of him as some damsel in distress?

The more Lou kept talking the more his blood boiled.

"Just because you can't wrap your head around it—" he spat, "I know what I am doing and I love th—"

"But you don't!" Lou screeched, flailing her hands in air, "How can you? You said it yourself, you can't even refuse that damned nickname—"

"Maybe because I don't mind it?" Alabaster dug his heels in. He had to believe he did not. Otherwise—

"So you like being treated like a pet? Some cheap jewellery?" Lou flattened, "Is that it, brother? Have you no dignity?"

Shame shook him to his very core, replacing the blood in his veins. The room started spinning, black spots appearing before his vision.

They said they loved him, he reminded himself.

His tongue remained tied in knots.

"Oh I would love to see your face when they retaliate if you ever refuse their advances!" Her cruel laughter drummed inside his ears, "Wonder how they'd treat you then, jewel?"

The nickname hit him harder than Epirus's avalanches, "Don't call me that!"

"I thought you didn't mind it?" He wanted to wipe that smug smirk off her face.

"I do when it comes out of your mouth." He snarled.

Lou contorted her features to a seemingly innocent expression, "Why? Is that what they call you in—"

"Your Majesty!" A man's voice echoed outside the door.

A look of disgust clouded his sister's face as she opened and conversed with whoever was outside. Before she slammed the door on their face, that is.

She looked him straight in the eyes, tongue devoid of emotion, "They are asking for you."

Good. He did not want to see her face one second more.

"With a tongue like that, you shouldn't wonder why I prefer our enemies to your acidic company, oh dear sister," he snarked on his way out, intentionally bumping his shoulder against hers.

Malcolm greeted him in the corridor, lending his arm to escort him back to the couple's chambers.

Alabaster almost slumped in his arms, the argument with his sister bringing back a certain fright that he had tried to keep buried deep inside.

That he had somehow had more freedom, more leewance when he had merely been the couple's gift, instead of whatever their arrangement made him. That he'd be only stripped more and more of his autonomy, that he'd only be kept more isolated in a desperate bid to 'protect' him. Or perhaps to keep him to themselves.

He feared the day where he would wake up and find himself confined to inside the bedsheets.

"I will be returning to Atlantis early in the morning." Malcolm said, as professional as ever.

"Good. Annabeth already has enough on her plate, she doesn't need to worry about you either." He didn't care if his words were harsh.

Malcolm twisted him around, "I do not approve of you. You'll end up breaking her heart."

Alabaster was going to end up breaking Annabeth’s heart? Did Malcolm even know his sister?

"But she doesn't need your approval, does she?" He chuckled, "Especially with her brother dead."

Malcolm opened and closed his mouth a few times.

Alabaster leant in, whispering, "Don't forget, you asked for this. Reap what you sown, prince."

With that, he left the secretariat behind, sauntering towards the bedchambers of Perseus and Annabeth.

Perseus had the covers pulled over his head. Annabeth was wrapping up her hair in front of the vanity. "There you are, jewel!"

Alabaster took a deep breath, knowing he was about to shatter her good mood, "I wish to sleep separate tonight."

Her smile dropped, "Excuse me? I don't think I heard you right."

"I wish to sleep separate tonight." He repeated himself, squaring his shoulders.

Annabeth walked over, brows knit, "Are you sure?"

"Yes, Annabeth—"

She gripped his jaw, hand pressed against his mouth, effectively shutting him up. "You're not coming up with a sickness, are you?"

Alabaster tried to bat away the hand on his forehead and checking his temperature, having been backed against the lounging nook in front of the windows.

"I assure you, I'm fine—"

She glared, "You hate the lack of company. Don't kid me."

His heart hammered inside his ribs, almost breaking them.

She could very well order him to get into bed.

Alabaster cleared his throat, "Yes, but tonight I want to—"

She could drag him by force, get rid of him for being disobedient, anything she desired—

"Is it something your sister said?" She snapped, "Has she upset you, jewel?"

"Why would you assume that?" He cried.

One more push, and he'd fall right onto the pillows.

"Let him be," a sleepy mumbling came from beneath the blankets.

"I am! He can do whatever he wants." Annabeth yelled at his direction, "I just want to know the reason why—"

Alabaster took his chance.

He threw himself around her neck, whispering, almost pouting into her ear, tongue laced with vulnerability, "Annie... just for tonight."

He was at her mercy.

A blush coated her neck and face, as she gently peeled him off her. She averted her eyes, "Do as you wish. Goodnight, jewel."

Alabaster flashed her a wobbling smile, nearly fainting onto the nook's pillows once she was flush against her husband.

He curled upon them, trying to get his breathing steady. Unshed tears burnt beneath his eyeballs, a sob threatening to come out.

Fool. That's what he was for forgetting his powerlessness. They had him ensnared inside their palms. No one at court would protest if they decided to throw him to streets, execute him, or rob him of what little dignity they had let him keep.

They'd be well within their right to do however they wanted unto their prize.

His chest hurt.

He was completely reliant on their goodwill.

If they found that he was way too much of an hassle—

He stifled his gasp within the crook of his elbow.

Perhaps it was time he started cashing in the favours he acquired from various courtiers thanks to his little poison business. Just in case he needed somewhere to run to.

Duchess Echidna? No, she'd only do the bare minimum in payment before she sold him out. Minister Glaucus, too, while would happily fulfill his part of the deal; had such cowardice that he'd sing out about his whereabouts at the slightest forceful prodding.

Could Chancellor Nerites be an option? The man had bought a recipe to make himself ill enough to get out of being summoned to the King's chambers, although Alabaster suspected that had been more so due to how the man wanted Poseidon to come to his feet instead. And double crossing would not be an option, for Alabaster could always tell Queen Amphritrite just how Nerites had gotten his position, which everyone except her knew of anyway.

Satisfied, he settled down, stealing a glance to see the couple holding eachother close. The moonlight fell upon his figure. Longing ached through his entire body.

It was going to be a long, cold and lonely night.

Chapter Text

Storm clouds had been brewing above Epirus's horizon.

Princess Lou Ellen could hear the oncoming thunder from the hushed whispers passed among courtiers, from the enlarged amount of letters entering and exiting the palace, from the sudden increase in the Heir and the Queen's private meetings.

Which her family of course kept her out of.

No matter. She'd learn about it from her brother soon.

Sneaking away from her carer hadn't been hard. The woman was as unobservant as possible, and none could hold Lou the way Eudora had.

She slipped inside her brother's chambers, as she had done dozens of times before. Alabaster sat on his bed, reading a leather-bound book and lost in the ink of the pages. She places herself next to him, the covers bouncing as she flopped down. Without a glance, her brother reached to pat her head.

"What did you and mother talk about?" She barged into conversation.

"Queen Mother," he absentmindedly corrected, flipping a page.

Lou filled her cheeks with air, letting out a pop, "I'm not talking to mother's face right now."

Alabaster crinkled his nose, his lips quirking, "In any case, it was about my marriage prospects."

"Ew," she rolled over, plopping her head right on his open book, "Who would want to marry you?"

He stuck out his tongue, "It's not about who'll marry me. It is about who will marry into Epirus royalty."

"Alliances." The chambers lit up for a second as lightning probably fell over a poor farmer's barn.

Rain beat the windows, sounds of hooves clapping echoing through the glass.

"Mhm." He yanked his book under her and silently stood up, walking over to a study.

"To counter the Olympian Alliance's mechanisms?"

They'd been getting bolder, slowly creeping into the northern territory, that much she could gather together despite the unyielding efforts of her family to shield her, and Epirus was the only thing stopping them from continuing eastwards. Blocked the path between Alliance and its business partner Underworld, too. Not to mention, she was left alone against them in their shared gulf.

The skies rumbled.

Alabaster put the book away, pulling something from a letter with a broken seal, and raised an amused eyebrow, "Mother trained up your observation well. In either case, if the times come for it, I'll do my duty."

"You don't sound so happy about it." She whispered, "Unpleasant match?"

He laughed, an austere little thing, throwing whatever was in his fist into the fireplace, "No, no. There is no match, not yet. In either way, it is not of your concern."

Pungent smell pervaded the room as flames licked a handful of owl feathers.

"You're my brother. It is of my concern." She huffed, "Whose will it be if not me?"

He smiled, rubbing under his eyes discreetly, "Would you like to hear about my book?"

The thunders faded, crackling of fire echoing as the feathers crumbled onto themselves.

She nodded eagerly, patting the space next to her. He cuddled up against her, grinning, "Once upon a time, when the horses would joust and the knights trot—"

"You were reading fairytales again?" She groaned.

"Well someone got me banned from the romance section!"

She scrunched up her face, trying to will away the memories, "You shouldn't have been reading that kind of romance in the first place. It's unbecoming."

"Which means you shouldn't have been snooping around my books!" He playfully wacked her on the shoulder. "Snitch."

"Just get on with the story."

"So," he puffed, "Once there was this graceful Swan Princess acting as a regent for her brother, the King. However, while he was away at war, men filled the palace halls, each one vying for the Princess's hand in marriage, and thus, the throne."

"Did she want one of them?" Lou asked.

"She did not." He confirmed, "The Princess devised impossible to solve riddles as her marriage condition and held onto her throne. With every year passed, the men left as her suitors grew more weary, more greedy, and worst of all, more agitated. They would have feasts daily, drinking the Crown almost out of their whole palace, draining the treasury. When her brother came back hale—"

"The suitors had overtook the palace and would kill him on sight?"

"Exactly. They wanted the throne, so his existence wouldn't do."

Lou shuddered. Hopefully, the storm would pass smoothly. She didn't know what she'd do if she lost her brother to the battlefield.

"The suitors told her that they'd accept no riddles that night, she would marry one of them. They wanted their swan." His voice dropped.

"What did she do?"

"She convinced her brother to turn into a swan, cut him up and served him in the night's banquet."

"What?!" She yelled.

Alabaster scratched the top of her head, "'You got your swan,' she said. The men became so disgusted at the realisation, that they just fled. The now Queen protected her House and ruled on her own for many many years."

"That's an awful end," Lou hoarsed, "she just sacrificed her brother like that?"

"I like to think he preferred it that way," a misty look frosted over his eyes, "He'd rather his sister be safe, even if it meant he be the meat on silver platter."

"What is on the agenda?" Queen Lou Ellen clicked her fingers as they strided into the banquet hall, her silver-toed summer boots clicking against the polished wood.

"Don't snap your fingers to me as if I'm one of your pesky dogs." Palas sneered.

Gale came bounding over, paws skidding on the sleek floor. She bumped her head on Lou's legs, her tail wagging back and forth. She smiled, "Who said I was snapping my fingers to you?"

Palas huffed, the tips of her ears reddening. She clucked, and rummaged through her journal, "Well, there is the morning event. I assume you've already broken fast?"

She nodded.

"Good." Palas tapped her fingers on the parchment, "There is the balls planned for tomorrow and Aftermath of Friday. Empress Athena has sent documents about the ways Epirus is allowed to use its mines; you'll need to sign them."

Not check, nor look, nor consider. Sign. Whatever the Empress wanted, she got it. Lou gritted her teeth, resting her weight on the giant chair at the head of the long table, where she would sit, "Go on."

Tables lines the hall in an 'U' shape, placing the host in the middle of the other monarchs, and their children at the arms. Bowls and plates covered the satin cloth, servants rushing in and out of the room with more. Pitchers holding various refreshments towered over the piles of seasonal fruits, strawberries twinkling in the midst of their brethren. Alabaster had always insisted they were poisonous, her mind supplied, as if it took joy in her hurt.

Gale settled beneath her makeshift throne as she sat down.

"A rebellion broke out at the west side of the kingdom," Palas's words made her glad she had already seated herself, "The imbalance in the taxes Epirians pay compared to foreign merchants, this time."

Lou swallowed, "How many has it been?"

"Fifth of this month. Twenty third of your reign."

She heaved, placing her elbows on the table and her head in her hands, trying to not shake down the pastries arranged to resemble a swan, "Don't— Do not send the army. I will not have my people treated like the enemy for simply being unhappy."

Which one of them was joyful in these circumstances, really?

Palas let out a quiet laugh, "You naive fool. At least it makes my job easier."

A servant brought in a gilded stool, its velvet cushion barely high from the ground, placing it behind the table designated for Atlantis's delegation. Whatever. If King Poseidon wanted to rest his feet during breakfast that was none of her concern.

"But no, I did not send the army." Palas exhaled, "It's better to subdue flies with honey than feces."

She gestured for her to continue. From the corner of her eye she saw Eudora and a few maids from the kitchens fill empty goblets.

"The second ball. The Palace should open up their doors to the common folk, to show them that their queen thinks about them in this trying times. How charitable you are." Palas said, "Not everyone of course, we can't have them get preposterous ideas such as they're on equal standing. Wealthy merchants and spouses and families of the Queensguard will suffice."

Her throat constricted. "Placate them and divide them up."

Eudora sent a small discreet wave her way.

"We'll make a politician out of you yet." Palas's smile churned the contents of her stomach.

It was a terribly brilliant plan. Made her sick to the core but she couldn't deny it was something her own mother would pull off, had she been still alive. If the better off part of peasants jumped to the invites akin to dogs to a bone, thought themselves higher than the rest, than it would surely prevent the folks from binding together by inciting infighting.

It was how the Queensguard were trained after all. With separating the most promising young soldiers from the rest and moving them to the opposite wing of the palace to resume their training. So long as the Royal Guard and the palace guards kept seeing themselves different, the chances of a coup were low.

"You do that," she finally choked out, staring at her plate.

"Who said I was asking for permission?" The advisor sneered, "The invitations were already sent out early in the morning, as the last ship bound for Atlantis left the harbour."

She wished she was permitted to snarl like Gale currently was.

Trumpets blew, the sound rushing Palas to take her seat on Lou's left, where her heir was supposed to sit. The few courtiers that were attendants of the feast sat on the far ends. Eudora and the rest of the servants ran out as the Herald got ready to introduce their guests.

"King Hephaestus and Queen Aphrodite of Chalceus!"

An old couple strode in, Aphrodite's summer dress shining brightly with its iridescent pink colour compared to the muted burgundy her husband wore.

"Lord Hermes, Regnant Father of—"

The man placed a hand on the Herald's mouth to shut him up, shaking his head as he walked to his table.

"Queen Lady Artemis and her esteemed nephew Prince Wilhelm of Delphi!"

Thankfully, the court did their best to not flinch away from their draped clothing.

"Empress Athena of Sthenias!"

The woman had came with a retinue larger than both the rest of the monarchs's and her skirts, which was a feat unto itself. One had to wonder how she fit through the doors, considering it was almost as wide as one of the side tables.

"King Poseidon of Atlantis, Prince Triton of Atlantis, Prince and Heir Presumptive Perseus of Atlantis and Princess Annabeth of Sthenias!"

Lou noted how the Herald placed Triton's name in front of Perseus, something that would no doubt cost him his head if he were in Atlantis. The Princess was dressed in the Sthenian silhouette this time, putting a wide berth between her and her husband, who had an embroidered coat matching with his father's on.

Another man shuffled forward, causing the closest people to gasp upon the sight. His hands were bound in golden cuffs, linked with a dainty glass chain, the metal chafing against his thin bony wrists up and down with each step.

The tension fell over the room, grasping everyone by the throat. Artemis's hand flew to cover the eyes of her nephew. Lou sharply inhaled.

The bejewelled collar of Alabaster's shirt rode low on his shoulders, exposing the entirety of his collarbones, pale freckled skin and slender bare neck. The sleeves ended beneath his underarms, gold bands clasped at the end, squeezing the flesh. His hair was kept neatly in a tight bun underneath a net containing dozens of little gemstones.

Misery etched itself onto his facial features. His face sagged, his cheeks hollow, his skin a sickly grey under the obvious powder. Judging by his eyebags, he hadn't had even a wink of sleep.

Good, a part of her she usually tried to ignore crooned, hope my words kept him awake the whole night.

Low murmurings passed between the present courtiers. The Prince and the Princess embraced eachother in their chairs, not sparing one glance to her brother. This was what he sold out his dignity for?

Alabaster stumbled towards the gilded stool, swaying on his feet as he collapsed onto the cushion; head bowed and hunched over, defeated. Resigned. Poseidon leaned back on his chair, a smile splitting his face, eyes roaming the expressions of his peers.

"This is no way to treat a royal hostage," Hephaestus mumbled under his breath, while the table shifted uncomfortably.

The Herald shook them out of their numb staring as he called over more diplomats, dignitaries and ambassadors, blowing his trumpet once again at the end to signal the start of the feast.

Lou was glad she had already broken fast, for it would be inappropriate of a queen to lose herself in food during diplomacy. She gingerly took a bite out of the scrambled egg wrapped in a long piece of meat, gnawing on the drier parts.

Lord Hermes stuffed his face with a chicken thigh, talking through a mouthful, "Oh relax, Heph'. The man is Perseus's and Perseus is Poseidon's. He can do whatever he desires with the spoil of war."

She tightened her grip on her fork.

"You seem to have forgotten Atlantis was eyeing Maia's lands fore the war," Artemis leant in slightly, hissing. If Poseidon heard her, he did not comment, content with striking a conversation with those sitting around him. So brazenly unbothered by the accusation that he'd break off from the Alliance.

Hermes paled a few shades, before recovering, "My sweet boy is a smart one. I've abdicated my throne to him for a reason. He'd know better than him."

Talking about her brother as if he wasn't here—

"Your sweet boy?" Athena hummed, "The warmonger? The youngling is getting bold, that's for sure."

"Shut it, Empress," Hermes crossed his arms, not unlike a petulant child, "Were I you, I'd polish my mirrors more."

The Empress let out a satisfied sound at getting a rise out of him.

Lou forced a smile. Traitors, that's what Maia was, them and the Underworld. Both had turned their back on Epirus, both had ripped apart the decades of trust between them into smithereens.

"Now now, don't go around pointing fingers. I would never ignore the courtly standards." Poseidon bellowed, as if a living testament to how he walked over all those very standards and status weren't sitting behind him.

With a few chuckles, the meal continued on. Servants went around filling empty plates and goblets as they emptied, idle chatter bouncing off the once expensive furniture. She was just glad that none had made snide comments about the lack of luxury a palace would be expected to have. But then again, everyone in the room knew very well where Epirus's opulence had vanished, they had whisked them away to their own kingdoms, after all.

A maid approached her tentatively, bending to whisper in her ear, "Shall we set up a plate for his Highness, your Majesty?"

Lou blinked. Surely, all of the royal offsprings had more than enough to eat. She sent a quick look over between the tables, before her eyes settled back on her brother, who was staring into his lap, no food to be seen in sight. As his sister, and as someone who had been raised her whole life to serve dutifully under him once the time came, she should had immediately got him a table. However—

Alabaster's disdain from last night clawed at her insides.

"If he is hungry he shall simply beg the Prince or the Princess for it," Lou haughtily lifted her chin, "Since he prefers their company. Tell my brother these exact words if he asks."

The maid shook her head vehemently, and disappeared.

"Have you heard, ma'am? There are contesters to Olympeum's throne," Palas turned to Empress Athena.

"That had been why High King Zeus dropped out of the war, no?" Artemis tilted her goblet.

And wasn't that a tragedy, that Epirus still had to pay reparations to a kingdom that didn't even see to the end of the war?

Aphrodite giggled, "Ah yes, his former queen Hera came back to court with a son in tow. Their son, she claims. After little Thalia has been the crown princess for a whole decade."

She threw a look at Alabaster's direction, only to see him glaring at the maid from before as she was trying to tell him something, probably her orders.

"Not undisputedly." Athena scowled, glaring at Atlantis's table, "The line of succession is there for a reason. You do not just make bastards your heirs."

Lou curled her lips in a shape she hoped that was coming across as a smile.

They were going to bleed her dry. The already strained coffins would take quite a hit by the cost of this feast. And she still had to host the Alliance for three more days. By the end of all the planned activities, it would be a wonder if even a single coin was left of it. If only she had a swan on hand that would repulse the invaders away.

The Herald blew his trumpet, "Introducing, the Famed Fool Cecil!"

Followed by jingling sounds, a young man bounced in, taking extravagant bows in the center of the tables. Little bells dangled off the giant sea snail he wore as a cap, a shawl embroidered with the images of tables wrapped loosely around his shirt, a fishnet was hung on his shoulders.

"Ladies and gentlemen! Pardon my tardiness, for I was pretending to be a fellow sailor in the docks," Cecil curtsied.

Triton threw some grapes at the fool, cackling despite the venomous stares from his father, "You're excused!"

"Then allow me to celebrate this historic moment! A whole year has passed since the war, and everyone is gathered in amity. Joyous shall we be all, I say. Joyous!" He bowed his head, lifting a chalice he grabbed off a table to accept the accolades. Once quietened, he smirked, flicking mead towards Chalceus, "And the fact that King Hephaestus and Queen Aphrodite are in the same room for the first time since twenty years, of course."

The hall roared with laughter, Aphrodite's high pitched voice the loudest amongst them; while her husband grumbled in his seat, clothes wet from the alcohol.

"Now if I'm permitted," Cecil went around them, pleading for a knife from each person. He flashed his collection and a grin, and started juggling the knives, much to the astonishment of the others.

Her heart at her throat, she watched mesmerised as blade after blade whizzed past his cap, not a single one of them cutting him. Whistles rolled in from the far end tables, building up until the fool was drowning in cheers.

The metals glittered with the light of the chandelier, just as Cecil lifted one foot to hop on the other's toe.

"Catch this!" Hermes laughed, throwing an apple to the man.

Cecil simply smiled wider, adding the fruit to his circle of cutlery. Hermes nodded in approval, flinging more apples his way. Soon half of the gathered had joined in on heckling the fool with all sorts of fruits, one even throwing in a watermelon.

Hermes whooped with a juvenile joy, throwing a plate at Cecil when it all came crashing down. He braced himself, surrounded by a mess and fruit pieces hanging off him as Hermes grimaced.

"I must say, sire." Cecil fixed his costume, "If you're as lively spirited in Maia as you are in Epirus, one shall not be surprised your kids are forgotten. For you've already filled the spot."

The court howled in delight, both at the ruined juggle show and Hermes's red face, the Lord hemming and hamming.

"Oh do not be offended!" He continued, batting his eyes, "You could put me out of my job, milord."

Pleased, Hermes gestured for him to go on. Cecil beamed, approaching an Epirusian courtier as servants came over to clean the mess up. "Please, dear gent'. I'm afraid my outfit got jumbled. Could you, perhaps, fix my cravat?"

The courtier obliged, pulling off the cravat, only to be met with a handkerchief anew, tied to the previous one. They yanked it.

And another one took its place. Yet another. Yet another. And yet another.

As the courtier kept being the frustrated victim of the fool's show, the mocking cheers encouraged them on. A pile of endless fabric had grown on the table. Cecil stopped the poor gentry, grabbing the last of the handkerchiefs, and ran to the now cleaned centre.

He shook it open, revealing a banner: Sigils of both Epirus and the Olympian Alliance embroidered intertwined on it.

A round of applause. Sickness twisted in Lou's stomach.

Willhelm flapped his hands around as he excitedly told something to his aunt. Artemis cleared her throat, baring her teeth, "My, my. You wouldn't consider working in Delphi's court, would you?"

Oh great. Now they had eyes on her jester too.

"Only if her Majesty gives her word that little prince hasn't took up her hunting habits," Cecil winked, sending the room into uproar.

He folded the banner, making a show out off presenting it to a blushing Wilhelm. The fool clapped his hands, "Hear ye! Hear ye! I hear the whispers of a tale from far up north."

The Herald blew his trumpet.

Cecil sent a grin their way, "Once upon a time when the horses would joust and the knights trot—"

The familiar rhyme punched Lou in the gut.

"There lived a witty child, clever and cunning, with their destitute mother," Cecil changed his tone into melodic beats, "One day, while they were sent to buy wheat from the mill up the highest hill—"

An outraged yelp cut him off. All eyes turned on Empress Athena, who had gotten up to shake off her copious skirts. For a second, Lou thought she had decided to dance, before remembering the Empress was not Baroness Medea.

"What is this?" Athena shirked off her outer shawl, drenched in burgundy wine, shrieking at the scrawny shaking maid holding a pitcher. "What do you think your employment is for, if you cannot even hold a pitcher steady?!"

The girl trembled, fingers white knuckled against the bronze. Cecil burst out into cackles, "Fear not, fear not! For the only person the Empress kills is her brother!"

Athena froze at the ensuing snickers and giggles, waving the poor maid off, and sat down with just a mere indignant scoff. "Don't you have anything else, fool? I am terribly bored."

Cecil let out a nervous laugh, "Why, of course. How about a recreation of the war?"

Interested murmurings washed over the hall, as Lou gripped the arms of her throne tight. Gale shifting and bumping her nose on her shin under the chair.

Cecil bounced over to a table, gripping a flower from a decorative vase, and held it from its stem. Starting to slash and cut imaginar enemies with his make-believe sword, he spun upon the floor, creating battle noises out of his mouth. He suddenly jolted in place, bringing a hand to his ear and bent sideways.

"What? Princess Annabeth got engaged?" He faux-gasped. "Well, now I don't want to fight anymore!"

Lou could physically feel all her blood draining.

He threw the flower away and stomped over to the Atlantian table, pouting. Cecil raised himself up on his toes, to twirl.

And swooned right into King Poseidon's arms, "My king! Would you please take me in? Do not worry about my queen mother, she'll be dead in a few minutes."

Alabaster inched on himself upon his stool, head hidden behind his bound hands.

"Oh, by all means sire, and I heard your son is available?" Cecil proceeded to gradually unbutton his shirt, exposing his chest, all the while fluttering his eyelashes. Poseidon guffawed. Prince Perseus flipped up his coat collar to obscure his flaming face, Princess Annabeth fanning herself in a frenzy.

"Enough!" Lou yelled as the fool bowed in acknowledgement of the ovations he gathered, "That is enough. We're throughly entartained."

"Understood, your Majesty." Cecil composed himself, untangling himself from Poseidon's arms, "May I please have the privilege to play some music?"

"Granted," she curled her lip.

He grabbed a lute, "This piece is from the renowned composer Chappeline de Roan."

People got swayed by the food in their plates once more. Perseus held up his goblet filled to the brim with wine, scrunched his nose and whispered to his father.

"You cannot afford separate entertainers for music and entertainment, your Majesty?" Hephaestus tilted his head, "Sad."

Aphrodite patted her husband on the arm, a condescending smirk on her blood red lips, "Leave the poor dear alone. She's trying her best."

"I'm just saying. I'd be glad to build Epirus a melody player." Hephaestus said, "With a price, that is."

Poseidon passed his chalice of water to Triton, gesturing to his younger son with his other hand.

"No one cares for your overpriced barely functional inventions, Hephaestus." Athena pointed with her knife, a piece of cheese attached to the sharp end.

"Jealousy isn't a good look on you, hon'." Aphrodite cooed, "Your pointless ambitions already destroy your reputation enough. Just say you're offended at Frederick's infidelity."

Alabaster bolted over to Perseus's side, right as the man received the chalice. From what she could see, that was what they had started arguing about too.

"Absolutely not!" Athena snapped, "You think I give a naught about him more than what he already provided me with? I have my heir. If he went and perished it would be not my concern."

Alabaster had managed to grab the chalice from an exasperated Perseus, bringing it to his lips.

"How is little Malcolm?" Aphrodite murmured, voice laced with weeping.

Athena slammed her fists on the table—

A loud clanging sound drew everyone's attention towards the Atlantis delegation.

Alabaster stood at the center stage, face drained off all colour. His whisper was as loud as a thunderstrike.

"Cyanide."

People scattered in panic, the monarches tripped over their own feet in their haste to get away from the tables as fast as possible.

The last thing Lou saw before being dragged out by guards were Athena yanking her daughter close by arm, and Alabaster's haunted eyes.

Lou could only manage to visit her brother a few hours later, after the guards assured her they had interrogated everyone involved with the preparation of the feast and could not find the culprit. That, and dodging Palas.

Queen Lady Artemis had demanded that the feast's early end meant Lou could spend time with her nephew. Which. Awesome.

Lou glided inside the sickroom. Healers buzzed around the single occupied cot. Alabaster reclined on the pristine sheets, washing his face with a wet cloth. A man held out a tray, where a bowl of water sat upon. A young woman wearing the beige armband of those still in training fussed with his hair, untying the knots of his hair net one by one.

His hands remained bound.

"Alabaster."

Her brother threw the washcloth unceremoniously inside the basin, raising his head, "Your Majesty."

She chewed on her lips at his ice cold voice, "Are you..."

"I am alive." He snorted, as if she couldn't see that, "I didn't drink it after I smelled almonds."

"Good." She clicked her tongue. She walked over to hold his hands, fingers brushing over the golden cuffs.

"I'll need to wait for a servant to bring the keys." Alabaster furrowed his brows at the same time as the maid freed his hair from its confines, placing the net on the tray.

"Why?" She tugged at the glass chains lightly, then because she wanted it to sting, "Can't snap something so fragile in two?"

He bristled, "It's not mine. King Poseidon would ask me to pay the damages to any jewellery."

"That's not jewellery." She crossed her arms.

A wave of melancholy clouded over his eyes, "I know."

A healer with a bright green armband, Edith if she remembered correct, offered a tonic, "Your Highness, if I may..? Are you being used as a tastetester?"

"He is not unwilling." She blurted out without a thought, save for the hurt fuelling her heart.

"Lou!" Alabaster's jaw snapped shut, before sighing, "You are impossible."

And your head is so far up in the clouds that it has reached Lady Diana, she held her tongue.

"It's bad enough you have let our family be humiliated." He downed the tonic, and shook his head.

"I have let our family be humiliated? Me?" Surely she couldn't believe her ears?

"That little jester of yours, with his banner and reenactments," He snarled, "You should have known better than to trust a childhood friend."

Lovesick fool.

"He was hardly a friend. And you are one to talk," She growled, "I find if difficult to believe your lack of self respect, in any shape or form, is my fault."

"If you cannot fathom how much you've tarnished the Torrington name, then I have nothing to tell you." Alabaster's eyes burnt through hers, blazing in a way that almost resembled the brother she knew. Almost. "This is why you'd never be crowned if it were up to Mother."

She wanted to sob. She wanted to break his twice-broken nose a third time. She wanted him to hold her and reassure her that she actually knew what she was doing.

She wanted her brother back, not this shell of a person, both too cruel and far less than he actually was simultaneously.

"I think she'd be more concerned with how her eldest is betraying his kingdom for Atlantis," She dried out, her throat bobbing to stop her cries from escaping.

"So we are both glad she is dead?" His shoulders shook with silent laughter, his cheeks glistening. "Or maybe she should be the grateful one."

Lou lunged, yanking at his chains. The glass shattered beneath her fingers, shards and splinters burrowing themselves inside her flesh. Alabaster's face twisted into one of anguish, while he examined the broken chain, his breathing getting louder as Lou walked towards the door.

"Do not let the Prince and the Princess in." She ordered on her way out.

Lou Ellen had a date to get ready for.

Her unwanted suitor awaited her in the gardens. His golden curls danced with eachother in the wind, the pale blue fabric of his attire tied at the waist with a leather cord.

Wilhelm greeted her, a simply carved wooden box in his hands.

"Prince Wilhelm." She murmured, her skin crawling inside her gloves.

A bashful blush overtook his face, "Please, call me Will. Just Will. And here."

Carefully, she took the offered box, flipping the lid open. Strings of chrysanthemums were tied up in a circle, in a crown.

"It's tradition in Delphi," He wrung his hands, "to give to your intended. If they accept, the courting starts."

"They mean death." Her fingers curled around the box.

Wilhelm flinched, eyes darting around "I'm sorry, ma'am. I didn't know."

Ansty little thing he was, when he wasn't in the presence of his aunt. She trailed her thumb along the engravings, laurel wood if she had to guess. Humming, she plucked off a yellow leaf from a chrysanthemum, rolling it between her fingers as she watched Wilhelm shift where he stood.

She shut the lid back on, making Wilhelm jump.

"Walk with me, Will." She tucked the box under her armpit, "Tell me about yourself."

The grass rustled while they strolled through the garden. Wilhelm took each step as if it pained him, eyes fixated on the ground. Like he expected a snake to jump on him at any moment.

"There's nothing much really," his voice wavered, "I am barely in the line for the throne. I've a few sisters and brothers with better claims."

"What about your mother?" Lou inhaled the scent of summer flowers.

Wilhelm's face fell, "She died due to a freak fire in the opera."

"Did she?"

"My father is no killer." He hissed. Oh, so he did have fangs!

"Of course," Lou let a smile tug at her lips. Some minor gentlewoman Palas had delegated the job of chaperoning followed after them, ten steps back. "But surely there is more to you?"

"I took up poetry and study of the body as pursuits." Wilhelm shrugged.

She tried her best to not grimace at the memories of his poetry. "You should enroll in one of our academies if we are to marry, then. Epirus might not match Delphi's knowledge of the human physique, but no kingdom can beat her in the art of injurious herbs, shall that be of your interest."

Wilhelm squirmed, drawing his arms closer to his chest at the mention of marriage.

"Is your aunt and father will be the one to pay dowry or will it be me?" She pressed on, squinting her eyes.

"I wouldn't know." He stammered, "The details are lost to me. Can we talk more of this academy?"

"The most prestigious one is sponsored directly by the crown." Lou humoured him, trying not to grumble. What was up by his constant jitters? "Although I was personally instructed by my late mother instead, as my brother was."

"Is it true he is no man, but a bundle of sticks animated with dark magic?" He gasped out, and immediately slammed a hand upon his mouth.

"Pardon?" Lou choked.

"My apologies, it was just a rumour I heard circling." Flustered, Wilhelm wiped his hands on his tunic. His eyes twinkled with excitement, though, despite his words, "That after the death of her first born daughter Queen Hecate cut sticks from the forest and turned to magic to give her an heir."

"Well, that's certainly more interesting than half the things he is said to be, in this past year alone." She snorted, "I must disappoint, the truth is far more mundane."

He stilled, his features carrying an indecipherable emotion, "I understand. I must admit my knowledge of Epirus is limited."

"I figured as much from your poetry." Lou tested the waters. "Either you have a sweetheart back at home, or you are well versed in the Princess of Snow's Fairytale."

"Your tone suggests you do not like fairytales." Typical, she couldn't have one person who did not dodge her questions. "Do you not?"

Her eyes wandered to the windows of the sick room, where Alabaster was possibly reading one of his romance books, "No, not when people use them to muddy the mind."

"I am of the opinion that everyone needs a little bit of whimsy in this current challenges," he whispered.

"What would a prince of Delphi know of challenges?" She frowned.

"I'm sorry." Wilhelm took a deep breath.

Lou stopped in her tracks, knelt down next to a patch of marigolds, "You apologise a lot."

It was a rare quality found in royalty.

"Sor—" He paused, "Delphi has not been honest in their intentions. You're being used, your Majesty."

"My gods!" An angry snicker escaped past her lips, "Why, I wasn't aware of that!"

"Sorry..."

"Stop that." She puffed, waving a hand in air.

Wilhelm fiddled with his fingers, lips moving silently as if he was debating apologising yet again.

Their chaperone were glaring at them. Probably eavesdropping for a piece of gossip that would make her the darling of Epirusian courtiers during the coming ball. It used to be Lady Circe that ran those mills, before she had retracted into the shadows of obscurity after the war; making herself unnoticeable, rather than help Lou in any way. Still, though, at least she had stayed around, unlike some of her court who had previously sworn fealty to her mother.

"Delphi has no intention of helping Epirus." Wilhelm's shoulders dropped, "No intention of setting up trade agreements, or aggravating Sthenias. The marriage is a leash to stop me from leaving my family's side."

Icicles speared through her lungs. This what what she'd been wary of, that Wilhelm would not rescind his ancestry and Lou would have to give up her crown to the House of Delphi, to her husband's family, as dozens of women fore her did.

"That's a bit contradictory, hm?" She had to set it down that she wouldn't marry out of Epirus. "If you are to be my consort, you will need to move to Epirus."

"My father approves not of my ambitions as a diplomat, and my choice of kingdom even less so." He sat cross-legged beside her, "He would rather see me off married than at Underworld."

Her head snapped sideways, eyes wide open.

The boy deadly afraid of snakes, walking willingly into the viper's pit?

Wilhelm hunched over, lowering his head. His trembling voice was barely be able to be heard, "I— I am not that much interested in company of women. I'm sure you're lovely, but—"

A relieved giggle tore itself out of her throat, as she bumped her head against his shoulder. "Pity. Because I am."

Will's beam was almost enough to get her to believe in fairytales again.

"You've met Prince Nico then?" She enquired.

He certainly would fit the Prince's descriptions.

Her thoughts drifted towards Princess Hazel. The girl that had taken her to multiple horse riding escapades, unaware of the effect she had on Lou. Her hair twisted under her helmet, her ribbons blowing gently in the wind as Lou would try to catch up to her and her horse. Her bright smile, her soft hands, her elegant use of words.

A few times, she had sent Lou lovingly hand drawn portraits of her herd of horses, each of them a separate riot of colours.

"Only heard the tales." His throat bobbed, stars alight inside his pupils, "Of his charm, of his quick wit. I cannot wait to see him in the flesh. It will be love at first sight!"

Ah. Never mind. No wonder King Lord Apollo was against shipping his son off to Underworld. Prince Nico was as slick as his sister was sweet, an expert businessman already leading his country at his young age, with only minimal guidance from his ever grieving father.

With that attitude, di Angelo would chew Will up and spit him out.

"Tell you what," Lou opened the box, taking out the chrysanthemum crown, "The Underworld is famed for her medicinal hot springs."

She handed the crown back to a perplexed Will.

"Perhaps you will find the object of your poetry in one of the saunas there, your Highness."

Lady Palas had banned her from writing to Hazel.

Her brother was volunteering his head to the execution block.

For Wilhelm's sake, she hoped she was wrong about fairytales just this time.

Annabeth had never seen someone get poisoned up close until Percy. Granted, that didn't mean no one had attempted. On the contrary, her mother had employed many tastetesters to ensure none of the various harmful mixes sneaked into their palates touched her mouth. And if any of the tastetesters had ever gotten... sick, well she couldn't call them poisoned exactly, could she? That was their jobs.

The panic she had felt when Percy started gasping and choking on that faithful day, though, it had been carved permanently into her mind. Alabaster's silent terror filled eyes as the guards dragged him away for questioning, too; only stopped by her and Percy’s desperate pleas, half coherent in the latter's case.

The weeks leading up to her husband's almost death, she had spent every night curled inside Alabaster's arms, wide awake, praying to the gods. Asking for mercy on Percy. If this was to be her punishment, for failure to listen to her mother, for what was done to Epirus, then please let Invidia take it out on her, she had begged.

He had lived, of course. Both her loves had returned to her bed alive and well a few days after Percy had been given the Epirusian antidote.

How foolish of her, to think Triton wouldn't be encouraged by the rest of the year's assassination attempts to try his hand again.

Still, despite trepidation raking its nails against her heart, Annabeth followed after her mother, Alabaster's faint form carried away in a maid's embrace at the forefront of her sight. She yearned to run back, to ignore the Empress and hold him in her grasp.

Her only solace was that Alabaster had most likely recognised the cyanide before he consumed it.

Her mother's iron tight grip on her arm pulled her along, until they came in front of a drawing room of an unused guest chambers.

"Come, then," she chittered, gesturing at her daughter before she disappeared behind the doors. Annabeth took a deep breath. She knew this was coming, her mother had said she wanted to talk of succession.

At least Malcolm had had the wits to return to Atlantis.

The room she entered wasn't a big one, probably reserved to priests and priestesses or minor nobility. A fire crackled in a fireplace near her right, a polished wood table further towards the wall across. The chairs and divans looked comfortable enough, though lacking the rich brocades the ones in her guest chambers had.

"Are you certain this is an appropriate time, mother?" She asked, slipping her fan into one of the pockets tied beneath her skirts, her fingers brushing against something else while doing so.

"When, if not now?" Athena mused, "No one will notice our absence in their haste to catch the assassin on loose."

Leave it to her mother to spin a poisoning to her favour.

Annabeth forced her lips to curl into a smile, "How are things in Sthenias?"

Empress Athena's face fell, the underside of her eyes lined with age and grief. Annabeth didn't regret creating the ruse of Malcolm's death, but she would be lying if she said the distress she caused to her poor mother didn't ate away at her. "As stable as they can be, without an heir."

"You have an heir, it's me." She mumbled, her heart panging.

"Do not mumble." Athena turned her back on her, walking towards the windows, "I raised you better than that. As to your statement, might I remind you of your marriage."

"But I am still your heir! We worked so hard for me to be able to keep my inheritance!" Annabeth protested, hand curled around the thing in her pocket. "Percy wouldn't force me to give it up."

Athena closed the curtains, "Yes, about him... Has House of Jackson took a liking to you?"

Blood rushed to her heart, fluttering inside her veins. The image of her husband inviting their lover into the lake inside the palace grounds, the water dripping off his dark curls trailing alongside his jawline, popped in her mind; as she gently pulled out the thing out of her pocket with two fingers.

"Of course," she opened her fist to reveal the slip of paper she already knew was going to be there, "I've built alliances with the nobility, likewise. My place in Atlantis court is secure."

King Poseidon was enthusiastic on integrating his daughter-in-law in to family as much as he could, and his wife and other children were civil enough. And the courtiers floundered to have her on their sides at partnered card games.

Although, her mother needn't know how the Venus priests loathed her solely due to her husband's existence as a bastard, and Alabaster's presence in their bedchambers.

"Wonderful." Her mother's voice echoed.

Even if he had been oddly insistent on refusing their bed the other night.

She would indulge him, for however long as he liked, didn't mean it hadn't hurt. She unfolded the paper, to be greeted by a hastily scratched poem in familiar handwriting.

'Brilliant as the sun, pretty as wine,

How can I keep myself away from you, when you're mine,

I want to savour you in my arms,

If the gods has it in our cards.'

Her breath hitched.

Oh Alabaster...

Sweetness bloomed inside her chest. Maybe, this was his way of apologising.

Empress Athena turned around, a wide smile on her face, "Then it will not be so much of a burden to renounce your claim to the Sthenian throne."

"What?"

Panic and confusion settled with a rock-like heaviness inside her lungs. Her ears must had failed her— She wouldn't— her mother—

"Are you disowning me?" Annabeth choked out a sob.

Her mother hummed, ripping away the paper slip out off her hands. And threw it into the fire after a quick read, "Do not let him forget his place, dear."

Despair seized her very being as she watched the flames swallow up the poem.

"Surely you have realised by now, that neither of you can keep your crowns and also be married." She softly clicked her tongue, adjusting her wig ever so slightly, "And since you have been, let's say, resistant towards an annulment or divorce..."

"...but disowning me?" Stammering and stumbling over her words, falling into feeble repetition like a mere child. As if that could convinve her mother against it.

"Annabeth, you know I love you." Her mother cupped her face, a thumb caressing away the stray tear drop gliding down her cheek, "You are my only heir and daughter. It hurts me to have you no longer around. However, you do love him."

Her shoulders shook, her lower lip wobbling as she leant on her mother's palm, melting inside the hug Empress Athena drew her into. "I cannot help but not to."

She kissed the top of her head, "And your happiness comes as my first priority, daughter."

Annabeth buried her face in her mother's bodice, gasping in big breaths. She had to collect herself, act like her age, "My happiness only comes with Sthenias's, Empress."

A hand petted her hair, chuckling above her, "Indeed. Which is why Poseidon's continued life cannot be allowed."

Her head snapped up.

Athena's mirthful eyes clashed with her icy smirk, "So long as he is on the throne, Atlantis's policies is a threat against Sthenias's entire entity. My existence."

She bobbed her head, pulling away from her mother, and wrapped her arms around herself.

"Do you think he isn't scheming against us at this very moment? No. No, of course he is." Athena shook her head, "It is vital for our kingdoms's sake that he be taken out."

"You want me to assassinate my father-in-law?" Annabeth asked, a laugh bubbling up beneath her tongue.

"Don't tell me you have any love for him?" She arched her eyebrows.

King Poseidon had thrown a banquet to celebrate the first anniversary of their victory a week before they had boarded the ships taking them to Epirus, which Alabaster had been all dolled up for. Once Annabeth had decided she could excuse herself, a little after he had done so, she had found him curled up in their bed. Alabaster had been dry heaving, having wrapped the blankets around himself and any exposed skin his clothing left to display; flinching each time a servant reached out or tried to get him to undress.

He had even shied away from her.

"Why would I?" She scoffed. "Though, how do you expect me to? The man is well protected."

"I have gifted you a snake, last I remember. Have I not?" Athena pinched her mouth, had clearly been disappointed that she hadn't figured it out in seconds, "Bid your time, build connections and trust. If something slips past his tastetesters, that can't be your fault."

Her mouth dried, her stomach growling, "That would make Percy the king."

With just a few sweet words to jewel, all her problems could be solved. The time she sat on a throne could come sooner rather than later.

"And you will be the queen, should you not be in another line of succession." Sparks from the fireplace reflected off her mother's eyes, "What a shame it would be that poor Perseus got deadly sick from the stresses of ruling."

The smile she hadn't noticed growing froze, pain coursing through her body.

"Every snake needs its head bashed in at some point, no matter how useful." Athena sighed, "Someone has to pay for killing two members of the royal family, after all."

"Why?" Her hands were shaking.

"If I were to rescind you back into succession after you have been crowned queen, then all of Atlantis would pass onto Sthenias in the event of your husband's death." Athena cocked her head, as if in disbelief she would even ask this.

Sthenias had always prided itself in her humanitarian executions. Where Epirus poured venoms down people's throats or hung them, where Atlantis paraded its enemies's heads on spikes; the majority of the condemned would die with a swift swing of the sword in her homeland, perhaps with the exception of her late uncle. Suddenly, the thought of Percy or Alabaster's heads in a basket didn't sound very 'humane' to her.

"Everything I have sacrificed, it's for you. Every single thing I have ever done, Annabeth." The Empress hissed, "For you, and for our kingdom. Because there is nothing more dear to my heart than you both."

"...I know, mother," She bowed her head, the burden of her plans weighing her neck down.

"Good." Athena lifted her chin with a flick of her thumb as she passed her by, "Then I trust you will see to it."

The chamber doors closed with a loud thud behind her mother, as the death sentences of either her lovers or the Empress's love shackled Annabeth to the plush carpets.

She found Percy pacing in front of the many sick rooms the palace had. He whirled around at the sound of her footsteps, running a hand through his hair. "They are not letting me in."

"Why not?" Annabeth asked, knocking on the doors.

Not a single sound.

"Well this won't do," she muttered. "Certain that he is in there?"

"Mhm," her husband took her hand, "One of the healers shooed me away before locking the door."

Annabeth bristled. First, her mother asked her to quite literally stage a coup within the Atlantean court, now she wasn't allowed to see her possibly dying lover? She couldn't stand idly by to that. "Do you have a pin?"

Percy batted his adorable big eyes, lashes framing the swirling lagoon of blues and greens, and jerked his head to decline.

She turned her back on him, "Alright, there should be a few in my hair. Just get a couple and try not to undo it?"

With bated breath, she waited while Percy’s calloused fingers worked their way through her styled braids, the other hand's massaging her neck. One of her braids fell over his hand, before he wrapped it back in its place. She sighed as her husband's lips brushed against her nape.

How could she ever bring herself to get rid of him?

"Will that be enough?"

Annabeth beamed, grabbing the two hairpins he presented, "Yes, thank you."

She gathered her skirts, and knelt down in front of the lock. With a little help from the ground, she bent one of them, before flattening the other one and doing the same to its edge. She inserted the first one inside the lock, and started digging around it with the flat one, pushing up the lockpins one by one, until she could hear a soft click.

Annabeth leapt to her feet, giving her husband a mock bow, "No need for applauses."

Percy leaned on the wall, flashing a grin, "Now where did you learn to pick locks?"

Her smile wavered. It was a trick she used to impress gentlewoman in parties back in Sthenias, something she had picked up from Lord Luke Castellan. The man had just been fourteen years of age then, when he and his father had came to stay at her mother's palace for a month. She hadn't asked why he knew how to pick locks, just thrown herself at the attention of someone else other than her mother, especially with her father holed up in the distance with his new family.

After Maia's visit had been over, they had kept exchanging letters, till Luke had went to Olympeum for a diplomatic mission.

He had stopped responding back after that.

"Just... an old friend," she shrugged, pushing open the doors.

A middle-aged woman with greying hair and a green armband around her left bicep stood in their way, "The Prince is not to be disturbed."

Annabeth stomped on the urge to correct her by saying Alabaster was a prince no more. He wasn't 'his Highness' nor anything of Epirus's. He was hers.

"He wouldn't mind a little break from his rest, I'm sure?" She bared her teeth into her sweetest smile.

The woman, which she assumed was the head healer, crossed her arms, continuing glaring. Annabeth returned her vigor, setting her jaw.

Percy took the opportunity to run past them.

He threw himself onto the bed in the middle, hugging the nightgown-clad figure tight. The healer and Annabeth both stared at him as frantic apologies bled out of his lips.

Alabaster's voice groaned beneath her husband, "Perseus, get off. I'm fine."

Annabeth pushed the healer out of the way to get near them. Percy perched on the edge of the bed, carding his fingers through Alabaster's loose hair, "I am so sorry, I never should have let you—"

"Perseus." Alabaster shushed him with a finger pressed to the other's lips, and huffed. "Told you not to accept food from Triton."

Percy exhaled, linking his fingers with Alabaster's.

"How are you, jewel?" She rolled the ruffled collar of his nightgown between her thumb and index finger. Good thing someone had gotten the sense to dress him down. It would be hard to rest otherwise, what with the outfit Poseidon's servants had put on him earlier in the morning.

"Again, fine." He rolled his eyes, "The cyanide barely touched my lips. Just..."

He rubbed his wrists while trailing off, brows furrowed. Annabeth winced at the sight of the raw, irritated skin, the flesh red where it had flaked.

Percy tensed, "Oh jewel—"

Overbearing smells of salts and mixtures invaded their noses. Sunlight filtered in between the closed curtains, illuminating Alabaster's pale face, bare of the makeup that concealed his sickly complexion.

"I brought you this," He whispered, taking out a long chain from his coat pocket, giving their lover a shaky smile.

Alabaster yanked his pendant close, brought it to his mouth, murmuring a prayer. He rasped, fingers pressed onto the family sigil, "Thanks."

"That is enough, your Highness. You need solitude." The woman's voice rang clear.

Alabaster's mouth twisted, "Edith—"

"How else will you heal?" The healer, Edith, raised her chin, hands wrapped around her and Percy’s elbows.

"I am perfectly hale." Alabaster stressed, eyes flashing.

"I disagree." Edith's face darkened, an unreadable expression plastered on. She commanded a younger man, who was quietly organising a shelf, "You! Get the Prince a meal."

The last thing either of them could hear before being kindly thrown out was Edith chastising their lover on the importance of eating properly.

Annabeth’s eyes met Percy’s, as they both shuffled awkwardly on their feet in the middle of the corridor.

It was Percy who broke the silence. "Do you want to go riding?"

"Let me change into a more practical outfit."

"You really do love your horses!" Annabeth fondly shook her head, watching her husband trot his horse further through the rocky path carved round the mountain.

Percy let out a hearthy laugh, resting his head upon the horse's dark mane, his own curls intertwining with the glossy strands. "Why, if I had my way I would replace that useless Nerites with Blackjack! He would be a much better Chancellor."

She snorted. Any other man, and Poseidon would had granted his son's request. "You'll be met with Blackjack soon enough, hold your horses."

"My gods," Percy raised a hand in air, as the wind carried over golden pollens between his fingers, "That was an awful pun."

With a soft kick to her horse's sides, she matched her steed to Percy’s speed. Ripe, purple plums dangled off from low branches in front of them, bright green birds screeching above the clouds. The morning chill had dissipated with the setting sun, the sky painted a multitude of hues.

All around them, mountaintops towered, caging them to the horse tracks.

"I missed spending time with you," she confessed. "It has been a while with just us."

Her husband slowed down, turning his head towards her, and sent her the same grin he had on their first meeting. Percy had had the brilliant idea to sneak away from his father's side, and had promptly bumped into her. In the hindsight, he had been lucky she assumed he was one of Triton's men-in-waiting. The next time, he had fallen off a horse after the poor thing got frightened by a sudden snake, and intrigued, Annabeth had sat vigil beside his side.

"Since our wedding, yes?" He stopped at a patch of grass. Bees buzzed in-between flowers of all sorts, the summer sun drying and yellowing bushes spread throughout the meadow.

She hummed in confirmation. They had been so busy the following days, their hands full of their honeymoon, court politics, noisy in-laws and Alabaster. Although, the latter was a welcome surprise, if not a little bit unexpected and abhorrent in the way he had been presented to them. They were making the best of their situations, really, all three of them.

"Have you alerted a guard about our excursion?" She asked.

"Of course not!"

Annabeth groaned, "You, Jackson, are impossible."

"You are also a Jackson," Percy reminded, helping her down the horse with a outreached hand, "My darling wife."

Laughter rippled out of her throat, only to be stuffed back down due to a kiss Percy surprised her with. Blood rushed to her face, her insides heating up. Her smile reached her ears as she guided them lower onto the grass.

She tackled him onto the ground, soil pressed against the expensive fabric of their clothes.

In the near distance, their horses nibbled on lush greenery.

"You will get your suit stained," he huffed, tucking a stray braid behind her ear, his other hand resting between her shoulder blades, "And it's white. The poor servants, Ann."

"Who cares? It's just grass stains," she rolled off her husband, cushioning her arms beneath her head. The sunbeams danced upon her closed eyelids, caressing her lashes.

"So much for prim and proper, Mrs Chase, hmm?" His voice resonated inside her whole body.

Annabeth opened her eyes, resting her cheek on his chest, "Jackson, now. As you have said."

His breath stuttered, his hands finding her own, their wedding rings touching. He leaned in for another kiss. She stuffed her thumb into his mouth, the leather of her glove a soft pressure on his front teeth. Giggling, "Have you not had your fill?"

"Never." He nosed up her neck, "I cannot love you enough at court."

A fair argument. She twisted, interlocking their bodies; clinging onto her husband, her fingers found home at his unruly mess of curls. He was right, after all; they couldn't spare their affections to their hearts's contents amongst all the aristocracy and their scrutiny, lest they be judged and their reputations soiled. It was only slightly better with their jewel, for his own had already taken... quite a hit.

Nothing much had he left to lose.

She adored him, yes. Didn't mean there were things she couldn't freely tell him, but say to her husband. Alabaster was a snake, and not only because of his affinity towards well placed leaves of hemlock. He had a vested interest in exploiting what they had for his own gain, as much as they pretended otherwise.

No wonder they both were infatuated with this safe haven Percy had offered by being himself, away from the knife edge politics of court life.

She breathed in deeply, pulling away and moving a hand down his chest. "Love you."

"Love you, too." His eyes oozed with longing so great it resembled grief.

The silver foam-like embroideries moved under her fingertips, the rich blue of the fabric containing all the depths of the ocean in its folds. Her hand slipped inside his breast pocket, finding a folded piece of paper inside.

Percy grabbed it out of her hand the second she pulled it, before she could unfurl the paper.

She peered over his shoulder.

'Now the ocean in my heart is more blue,

Thank Cupid he's a better shot than you.'

"Saccharine little shit." Percy growled, crumbling the poem in his fist as his face lit aflame, crimson hues taking over his skin.

"One has to wonder if he's flirting or insulting you, Perce." Her laughter bounced off of the surrounding rocks.

Her husband jumped, slipping the poem inside his pant pockets, and took off the coat. Running his hands between tall grasses, he plucked a green flower. A carnation if she recognised one.

Although, she doubted that he could get the opportunity to gift it to Alabaster before it wilted.

Percy pinned the carnation to his cravat, throwing himself next to her again, "I'm going to assume he sneaked one for you, too?"

Her heart ached, "Yeah. But mother..."

"What did she want to talk about?" He tilted his head.

You, she couldn't say.

"Just Sthenias's future." She forced out instead.

He patted her arm, sighing, "Promise to tell me or Al if she upsets you?"

You would be disgusted with me, if you ever knew how I could see myself as the sole sovereign of Atlantis.

"Mhm. Do not be harsh on her," She whispered, hugging herself, "She went through a lot, and I wasn't an easy child."

"Nonsense!" He threw his hands in air, "What, did you sneak away from your governess to read?"

She tugged him close, "I ran away once."

His eyebrows shot up to sky, eyes as huge as the sun above.

"There was this, travelling theatre troupe that had came to our court." She continued, "No one found me, I hid by dressing up in the costumes for three days, even after the troupe had been on their way out of the capital. Only then did the guards drag me home."

A teary sob escaped past her lips, "Malcolm was so mad I left without a word, and mother—"

Percy gave her hand a comforting squeeze. "You wanted to be an actress?"

"Can you imagine?! The heir to the Sthenian throne! An actress! A dancer would had been less shameful," she gasped, "Mother was bound to be upset, she has the family name to worry about."

"I loathe politics." Percy grumbled.

"You really shouldn't have accepted anything from Triton, Perce." Annabeth took the out, "Listen jewel more."

"I am just so tired, Annie. Of doubting everything, of not being able to trust my own family..." With that tone, one would assume he had as much as grey hairs as his father had, "I am so grateful that I know I can trust you."

Do not, she wanted to scream.

"Hey, at least you can get Triton into trouble with your father whenever you want."

"Oh do not get me started on my father!"

Annabeth jerked, sitting up, and stared at her husband's quivering jaw, protruding forward.

"Have you two fought yesterday?" She asked.

"Don't let me burden you," Percy chuckled.

"I am your wife." Annabeth raised her hand, her wedding ring glinting under the sun, "That is my job."

"Annabeth—"

"Perseus." She hissed.

"It's Estelle's day of birth after our anniversary." He shut his eyes, defeated and pained, "She will be four."

"Percy, that's great!" She exclaimed, "What's wrong..?"

"Yeah, well." His voice dropped, "My father won't let me go see her, or for my family to come to the palace."

"Oh..."

"It's like—" He snorted in anger, "He wants me to forget I ever had a life before he whisked me off to the palace. And now he won't allow me to leave its confines."

She patted his hand, urging him to go on.

"I get he wishes to protect me, but does he not trust me?" Percy inhaled, "I asked him if he could hire a tutor on politics for me once. You know what he said?"

"What?" Her and Alabaster would need to change course on their strategies, if Percy became more politically savvy. More discretion would be needed, for one. He needn't know every single scheme of theirs.

"That I was doing a great job as I was." He sounded miserable. "Why is it so hard to acknowledge I can do mistakes, that I am not infallible, that he is not infallible."

"That's the curse of our parents, the curse of the crown. Being primed to embody the throne from the second they were born," Annabeth ducked her head, blinking rapidly to hold in the tears. Her mother hadn't spent countless nights wandering the palace grounds to avoid being seen collapsing, that she knew. "He is old. Hold your breath and grit your teeth as you await our time, Perce."

"Right..." Her husband pulled at some weeds, "Pray tell, why my niece is closer to my age than my own siblings is?"

Annabeth grimaced. She had no answer for that, other than some unkind choice of words regarding Poseidon.

"This was a mistake..." He murmured, and got up, walking towards the horses, "Let's go back?"

Baffled, her jaw fell open, "Perseus Jackson, if you brought me here just to kiss and keep your secrets I will have Alabaster poison you."

"Pardon!" He whirled round, staring at her with a scrunched up face.

She sent him an innocuous grin, batting her eyes.

Muttering under his breath, he sat in front of her. "The worst part is that I don't think my mother was fully aware what the palace or the king had in store for me."

"Surely, Sally knew Poseidon was the king," she stopped, remembering the man's sneaking habits, "Perhaps after you were born?"

"He told the truth after he got her pregnant." Percy crushed a stick in his hands, "She always made it a point to mention he was kind..."

That certainly wouldn't be what she'd use to describe the King of Atlantis.

"When I would hide on the roof from—" He gasped, tugging at his curls, "Gabe would be off to a tavern and she would—"

Annabeth had scarcely heard the name of Mrs Blofis's previous husband, both the mother and the son secretive about their lives with him.

Percy’s fingers ghosted along the faint scar at the back of his head, "My mom would always hold me and tell how kind I am whenever she could hide it from him. How much like my father I am. Tried to hide his markings on her, I knew that."

Her mouth dried up.

"He hit me. Just once." His hand fell on his lap, resting numbly, "Oh he threatened to lots, but never had before. At least not with his beer bottle. Lectured my mom about how she couldn't control her bastard, too. We greeted him at the docks the next time he came from fishing."

"He didn't make it off the boat, did he?" Her lips parted in helplessness.

A grim smile. "Ma has always been good with nets. Doubt his body ever washed ashore. Then there is the way my father treats Al..."

"You are not like Gabe, Perce." She cried, cupping his cheeks in both hands.

"Why do I keep lashing out, then? I see jewel with a single drop of alcohol, and I just—" He mimed choking something, or rather someone, with his hands, his eyes avoiding her and visibly distressed, "Sometimes I wonder, if I can keep Alabaster safe from the King if we just kept him locked up in our rooms."

Annabeth jolted in place, "He would hate that."

The thing was, she could see it working. Poseidon would respect his son's wishes if Percy said he wanted Alabaster reserved for his gaze and his gaze alone. They would just need to be content with dooming their love to a life chokefull of loneliness and isolation.

"I know." Percy twisted his wedding ring, "Kind... No one would attempt to assassinate a kind man."

If it were true, my mother wouldn't want me to kill you, Annabeth held her tongue.

"I should had drowned during the war."

"Percy!" She plead, "You are not telling me everything, please! Let me in."

"Annabeth." His face was of a man's already deciding his funeral's, "My father wants me to divorce you."

Mother Night must had been angry at Annabeth. Empress Athena's and Percy’s words swirled inside her restless mind more and more as the sun went down and the moon started shining above. Even after she had gotten ready for bed, and her husband had fallen fast asleep; the thoughts tortured constantly, causing her to toss and turn in their bed.

Perhaps she would had slept better if she confessed her mother's plans regarding her lovers, flush it out of her brain and body.

However, she couldn't risk Percy going through with his father's schemes.

That would be disastrous, simply put.

And she would be distraught for ages afterwards, too.

Kicking her legs against the mattress in frustration, Annabeth audibly groaned. She whispered, "Either of you awake?"

The sound of crickets soared inside the chambers through the open window.

She threw her arm around Alabaster's body, her fingers brushing Percy’s chest—

And something terribly wet and cold.

Blinking blearily, she craned her neck towards her husband, only to be met with the metallic glint of a blade driven right through his heart. Only to be met with the sight of Alabaster's letter opener.

Annabeth shot up, and yanked the covers off of them. Blood pooled on the sheets, Percy’s nightshirt stained burgundy. His face as white as the shirt used to be.

No—

With shaking hands, she grabbed a nearby candle holder, holding it over the bed. The light illuminated Alabaster's peacefully asleep expression. An empty vial winked from where it rested lazily on his fingers. It was only a few minutes later that she recognised the blue tint to his skin, and the white, gauzy foams bubbled up past his swollen lips.

A guttural scream tore through the inner lining of her throat as Annabeth woke up.

Her husband slept soundly beside her, unstabbed and unharmed, occupying the empty space in between them where Alabaster should had been.

Right. The healers had insisted he stay the night under watch.

Annabeth placed her head on Percy’s chest, her eyelashes fluttering as she matched her breathing with his, counting slowly to make sure it wasn't faltering.

His snoring filled her ears.

She took a relieved breath, untangling herself from the sheets and blankets. She dangled her legs off the mattress, her fingers skimming along the silk pillows. She was grateful that the palace had already had them, and thus, she hadn't needed to bring her own like she had done for Atlantis.

Although, it had turned out she had grossly miscalculated the amount a pillowcase had to be changed.

Annabeth slightly lifted the lid of the box sitting on her nightstand, peering inside. Thankfully, the geese feathers remained untouched.

Casting one last glance at her husband's drooling form, Annabeth fastened on her nightgown, walking out their chambers.

She needed the fresh air.

Lady Diana shone above the sky, sickly sweet scent of flowers trailing behind her heels. Dry grass rustled beneath her slippers. Crickets sung somewhere in the distance.

Crisp night air filled her lungs.

A person strolled towards her a few steps away. Annabeth tensed as Queen Lou Ellen approached her, in a nightgown of her own, sleepily rubbing her eyes and mumbling to herself.

"Your Majesty." She did a quick bow, watching Alabaster's sister startle.

"Princess." Lou's face soured, "It is quite late."

Then why were she awake?

"I couldn't resist the allure of your gardens," Annabeth curved her lips, "They are especially beautiful under Lady Diana's embrace."

"The gardeners work hard." Lou Ellen's mouth pinched, almost like a pout. The lack of makeup and formal clothes made her look younger than her age, her bare face lit by the moonbeams. Silver light sparkled akin to violet in her large eyes. Stray curls framed her round cheeks, having had escaped from her hairwrap.

No wonder Annabeth had thought the Queen had been drowning in her throne earlier today.

"You'll need to relay my compliments, then." She mused.

"Why do this?" The Queen's lips wobbled.

She had never been good with children, not that she ever had people her age around, save for the times she was left alone with another kingdom's heir. Malcolm had always acted more like a young prince than a brother, and her father's other children were kept away from her by their mother. There had been Magnus, long ago; but he had stated he was sick of playing along with her makeshift temples from wooden blocks, gradually stopping talking to her unless it was in a letter.

"How so?" She craned her neck.

Annabeth remembered being envious of the easy banter, void of the reverence bound to be there between the heir and the spare, Alabaster and Lou had whenever she saw them as mere children.

"Toying with Al, humiliating my family. Then strolling and talking like you own us—" Lou's fists balled near her sides, her hazel eyes glossy with unshed tears, "Is it because he didn't marry you?"

"I—" Annabeth blinked, shifting her weight from one foot to other, "I am not doing anything..?"

Her voice sounded unsure even to herself.

"Clearly, my dearest brother is in denial of the highest level." An acrid, single cackle left the Queen, "Doesn't mean you can convince me that he's wilfully inflicting this farce of a relationship on himself."

The blood circling her veins froze over. "Are you accusing me and Percy of mistreating him?"

"No accusation. I see it, you see it. He sees it." Lou murmured, her eyes flickering towards the palace, "Everyone in this damned court did."

"He is an adult." Annabeth feebly tried, "Why would you know better than him regarding his own life?"

"Oh, I do." She flapped a hand in air, "Unlike the Empress, our mother did actually wanted us to be loyal to eachother."

"How dare—"

"Tell me, your Highness. Did he not try to take his life the very second he was not watched in Atlantis's palace, the very first instance he had the chance?"

Annabeth gasped, her hands struggling to keep her mouth clamped shut, lest her pitiful wheezings escape.

"How many times? Once, thrice?" Lou Ellen's cruel voice rang inside her ears, "Who is to say he won't be successful the next time?"

"I am trying!" Annabeth stubbornly refused to look at her, hoping to will away the images of Alabaster's bare feet awfully close to the edge of the balcony bannisters, "I am trying. Oh gods. I am. But I don't know how to help, and he is getting worse and—"

The Queen's unsympathetic eyes watched her every mimic, brows raised like Alabaster would do in a battle of words.

"I am so afraid that I'll find his body dangling from a sheet one day," She sniffed.

"You love him?" Lou's soft voice broke through her haze.

Annabeth nodded, breathing in a deep breath, "More than I love myself."

"No, you don't. Despite what you convinced yourself." The Queen scoffed, "What you love is having someone who can never leave you under your thumb. Does it make you feel great, Princess? That he cannot abandon you? You control where he goes and who he talks to, after all..."

She flinched. Her chest hurt, tears streaming down her cheeks. She could count the times she had no answer to give on one hand, and yet...

"You are good at this," Annabeth mumbled, "Very very good, in fact."

Lou Ellen's posture dropped, a defeated air encompassing her. Her eyes widened in desperation, "On the contrary, I have no idea what I am doing."

Self conscious of her own body, her limbs heavy, she awkwardly patted the Queen's shoulder, rubbing off the tears with her other hand, "You will get the hang of it, eventually. Your mother would had been proud."

If only Queen Hecate was around to protect her children.

Alabaster's sister sent her a look toeing the line between a sneer and a smile, "Good night, your Highness."

Her mouth burnt, pinpricks stabbing at her dry eyes. Her heart stuttered in pain, threatening to crack open her aching ribcage.

Annabeth slinked into the sick room while forcing herself to live. Alabaster was awake in his cot, flipping through the pages of a book under the light of an oil lamp. His long hair fluttered in the wind, gentle enough to not snuff out the flame.

"Hi." She whispered.

"You are late." Alabaster lifted his head, beaming and pointed his chin towards the open window, "Thought you'd climb the walls."

She choked on her own laughter, as she slipped under the covers next to him. Alabaster put his book down, dimmed the lamp, and snuggled close, burying his nose in the crook of her neck, "Have you been crying?"

His body was a comforting weight against her own.

Annabeth held a trembling hand to his cheek, "Are we— am I hurting you?"

"Oh Annie... of course you are," Alabaster sent her a sympathetic smile and brought her hand to his lips, a wicked gleam in his eyes, "But I wouldn't have it any other way."

If, she wept the whole night; he did not say a thing.

Chapter Text

Elated laughter bubbled out of Alabaster's throat as the wind whipped between his long loose hair. The tall grasses surrounding the countryside estate of Thera rustled beneath the hooves of his stead. Violets bloomed between them like stars sprinkled on the night sky, their enticing smell inviting in bees and butterflies with all kinds of colourful wings.

Up near the hill, the villa where he knew his beloveds waited for him towered over the idyllic scenery.

"Come, Guido." he murmured, a thrill rushing through his veins, and kicked softly at the horse's sides.

Next to them, a miffed snort echoed inside his ear.

Blackjack stomped on a patch of greenery, shaking his head. If he wasn't so certainly a horse, Alabaster would had said he grumbled and complained like a human.

"I didn't mean to leave you out," He rolled his eyes at the animal. It was weird enough of Perseus to send off his darling horse without mounting it in the first place. "Race you to the stables?"

Like the capricious thing he was, Blackjack neighed, taking off to beeline towards the estate.

Cursing under his breath, Alabaster urged Guido to gallop faster, lest they be beaten by Perseus's arrogant animal. When they reached the gardens, a servant took the reins of both horses to take them to the stables, Alabaster cheering inwardly at Blackjack's dismay at having come the second.

He bounded over to the tea table for two set up near the flower bushes. Annabeth and Perseus were playing a game, while sipping their teas. The aromatic herbal scent of the drink spread over the whole courtyard.

Alabaster waved once he was in visible distance.

His lovers must had not noticed him, for they kept playing mancala and giggling amongst themselves.

He coughed to get their attention. Only for them to laugh louder. Alright. Surely they weren't deliberately ignoring him?

Alabaster steeled his nerves, wiping off his palms with his breeches. Taking a deep breath, he squared his shoulders and marched up to them. He draped himself over the back of Annabeth’s chair, resting his chin on her shoulder.

"Hello, jewel." She tensed, the knuckles of the hand that gripped her teacup going white.

"We are playing mancala." Perseus smiled, though the corners of his eyes did not crinkle.

Alabaster hummed, trying to bask in their warmth. "Can I join?"

"It's a two person game." The Prince's fingers twitched over the stones, his lips tightening.

He bit the inside of his cheek, to ignore the simmering inside his chest, "Can I watch then?"

A sharp inhale whistled through Annabeth’s teeth. Her mouth curved in what was probably supposed to a reassuring shape, although to him it just resembled a grimace. "Why don't you wait for the end of our game in our chambers?"

A pang of annoyance rised up his throat. He ripped himself away from her body, crossing his arms and crushed a stray daisy with his heel to make a point, "So much for not abandoning me, yes, your Highness? Wouldn't you agree?"

"Jewel—"

Annabeth lunged, yanking him by the collar to crash her lips against his. A dark gleam struck throughout the stormy grey of her eyes, her brows ever so slightly drawn. Her nose twitched, "Just one singular game, Epirus. Don't get your breeches in a twist. I'll make it up to you."

Breathless and stupefied, his lashes fluttered as his whole face tingled. He swallowed hard, forcing the heat of his cheeks back down, "Promise?"

"Promise." Her features softened, a hand gently caressing his jaw.

He melted into her touch, nervous eyes flitting towards Perseus's direction. Love was stored in the eyes, the poets said. A brief meeting, a quick glance over, the deep adoration swirling in a lover's gaze and admiring eachother across the ballroom floor... Carrying what marriage proposals and wedding rings could not.

The blue and green hues of Perseus's eyes danced together as they roamed his figure. He reached out to take Alabaster's hand inside his, pressing a chaste kiss upon his knuckles with a grin, "Only a few minutes, jewel. Alright?"

Alabaster bobbed his head, light on his steps as he bounced over to inside the estate. Either somewhere in the kitchens an emergency had erupted or the Jacksons gave the servants the holidays they never granted him, for not a single servant was anywhere in sight through the whole way to the bedchambers. And not in the usual way where they'd attempt to be as invisible as possible while doing their jobs.

The closer he got to their chambers, the harder their absence was felt. Alabaster tutted under his breath at the state of the decorative glass panels, the once vibrant colours dulled by dirt and bird droppings. Honestly, what were they getting paid for?

A cloud of dust hit his face full force when he opened the chamber doors. Coughing and wheezing, he pulled his shirt over his nose until the air settled. The room was filled to the brim with various knicknacks, though all of tremendous value. The skirts and fabrics Lady Echidna had sent Annabeth as a honeymoon gift laid out on the mattress, the quite tasteless vase from King Lord Apollo tucked away into a far corner. Piles of richly woven carpets covered the divan, having collected dust where they had been thrown on. Silver cutlery and fine china sets Annabeth had complained over getting for her wedding sat abandoned in a locked cupboard.

The walls beared the official portraits for the ceremony, all of them having had the faces slashed out or painted over, save for the one obscured by a velvet curtain. With his curiosity piqued, Alabaster pulled the curtain to the side. A picture of himself greeted him, all trussed up and ornated for the wedding guests's gratification, drawn almost animalistic in the way he was subject to their leering and ogling. Alabaster quickly closed the curtains and turned round then, grimacing.

In the center hung a cage made with golden wire from the ceiling, the metalwork and the wilted flower motifs it crafted illuminated by the single oil lamp and the windows. A bright green bird laid rigid on its floor, its feathers visibly matted. The dead creature's wings must had been clipped, what with the missing flight feathers.

A shudder went down his spine.

It made sense he supposed, to stow the unwanted gifts in the far away Thera villa, where they would be out of sight, where they wouldn't be able to sore the eyes.

The poor bird must had perished from the heartbreak, too fragile to handle the lack of affection it craved.

Or perhaps, it couldn't fare the humid Atlantian climate, used to the chill mountain breezes of Epirus where he could span his wings as much as he wished, and suffocated inside the warmth he had been dropped in the midst of.

Twisting himself away from the grim scene, Alabaster settled on the ottoman near the windows, drumming his fingers on the sill. From the route the sun was taking in the sky, his lovers would be back any time now. Any time now.

Movement down in the gardens caught his attention. He perked up, pressing his nose against the glass. Perseus and Annabeth were gathering their mancala pieces. He beamed, tapped on the glass and waved.

Perseus noticeably tensed up despite the distance between them, Annabeth whispered something in her husband's ear. They walked through the gardens.

But not towards the villa.

Alabaster watched in confusion as they headed towards a carriage, his smile slipping away. Frozen on the spot as his lovers climbed in it, and servants brought luggages.

Alabaster scrambled to his feet, dashing towards the doors to catch up to them. He tugged on the knob, only for it to not budge. With impending panic climbing up his throat, he yanked harder. The door only rattled, much to his frustration. He didn't want to make them wait!

He shouldered the engraved wooden doors. Pinpricks stabbed at the back of Alabaster's eyes. Locked. He was locked.

A chill crept in through the gap of the chamber doors, burning inside his bones. They couldn't have bore of him just yet, could they? Had Alabaster pushed the limits of their allowance, was that it? Or had they gotten their fill, and found no use for a poor excuse of a concubine anymore?

Dread drowned his lungs, his shoulders shaking in hysterics as Alabaster ran to the balcony. He forced the door, futilely trying to open the unmoving metal.

With sobs ripping through his body, he went for the windows. The carriage had driven away a good while already. The distant little figures of Annabeth and Perseus were embracing, occasionally bursting into silent cackles.

Alabaster pounded at the glass, screaming until his throat was sore, "Come back! Hey! Come back! Please—"

He choked, grabbing a nearby book, and threw it at the window with all his strength. It merely bounced off, hitting the floor with a thud.

The carriage disappeared in the horizon.

"No!" He cried out, picking up the book and flinging it at the walls. The book flew till it found the covered portrait, causing the curtain to fall down. His own pleading, terrified eyes stared back at him.

Alabaster sunk to the ground, pulling his knees to his chest. He hoarsed, "...Come back."

The icy fingers of his isolation had already started to squeeze out his very being, the cold wrapping him in its embrace until all that left was a frozen dead bird.

Alabaster gasped, his body jerked upon the sheets as the feeling of his stomach dropping off a cliff hit him. Crust stabbed at the corners of his prickling eyes, the dried tears stretching the skin around it.

He blearily blinked, panting to regain his breathing, to shoo away the agitation and terror buzzing beneath his skin. His nightgown clung to his skin, cold sweat coating his flush flesh, sticking his hair to his forehead and neck.

Heat radiated from his right side, digging her fingers into his arms, and effectively pinned him in place.

One thing at a time.

Alabaster took a deep breath in the hopes that the sickness churning inside him would not result in an abrupt bout of vomit, before kicking off the soaked bedspreads. Next, he twisted between his lover's arms, wrapping his own around her waist to drew her close.

Where Annabeth’s face was mushed against his chest was lit by the rays of Lady Diana, the silvers gliding on the golden embroidery on her headscarf. He tucked in a stray coil back under the fabric, melted honey poured over his heart at the sight. Annabeth’s face carried the weight of the entire Chase dynasty, weighted by frown lines and knit brows and tight smiles in daylight; her cuticles bloody from her habit of picking at them behind the court's watchful eyes. Seeing her sleep soundly with a peaceful wash to her expression warmed Alabaster inside as much as her sheer presence did.

Guilt gnawed at his insides. The squelch of crimson snow filling his boots filled his ears, the foul stench of the corpse-ridden trenches invading his nostrils. She stirred in his embrace. He caressed the underside of her eye with one thumb, watching her lashes flutter.

He could wake her up, confess his nightmare like a prisoner in front of an arbitrator. Drag her into the living world before the sun ever showed his face.

Marry a wife who will worry about you as you will do for her, his mother had cautioned, way too long ago.

Oh how she would be disappointed that he had given himself up to the erratic waves of the couple's affections, splayed out on the jutting rocks that was the Atlantian court; the salty waters licking shallowly at the cuts and leaving stinging burns upon his skin in their wake as they retreated.

Why would they bother cleaning more than scratches when the most of his wounds came from within? When they could tie scraps of silk from their own clothes over the gashes and close their eyes to Alabaster's lack of crown.

What use did their worry had, when it barely scratched the surface of everything that troubled him?

What right did he have to desire a ring, a throne, a kingdom, and more at the same time?

His fingers fiddled with Annabeth’s wedding ring as he sighed. Better to ease himself into the water, to drown in the enormity of the feelings he was offered, and yearned to display back.

He needed a drink, the thought crossed his mind while his eyelids got heavier.

His inebriation made it easier to pretend for all three of them, as much as Perseus had his heels buried in denial.

It had not been the sunrise that woke him up again, but hushed whispers.

Alabaster patted the empty spot next to him, keening at the lack of warmth. Groggy, he cracked open one eye to see Eudora arguing heatedly with Edith, the hissing noises clawing at his ears.

"...were you not on strict orders to let him heal away from—"

"How was I supposed to know the Princess would—"

The coolness of the sheets bit at his skin. He croaked, his mouth dried up inside like sandpaper, "Where is Ann..?"

Eudora stopped flapping her hands around, composing herself and smoothing out her uniform, "Good morning, Your Highness. How are you feeling?"

"Morning." Alabaster pushed himself upright, much to the concerned protests of Edith, and rubbed at his eyes. Annabeth was not sitting at his bedside, nor was she waiting anywhere else in the room. His heart stuttered, "Has Lady Jackson left?"

"Early in the morning, Your Majesty." Eudora's voice sounded wrung out, as if just the mere acknowledgement of Annabeth exhausted her. A stifled gasp echoed from Edith's direction.

He swallowed down the persistent clutches of his nightmare, nodding numbly and dangled his legs off the bed.

Damn his sister. In her insistence on protecting his honour, she served only to isolate him further. Unless she wanted him completely laid bare defenseless to the Atlantean court's whims, her sororal worries worked against her own wishes.

"Your Highness!" Edith cried, "You should rest!"

"Rest?" He jumped to his feet, stars bursting in front of his vision as he did so. "I have done my rest unnecessarily enough."

"Little princeling," Eudora steadied him, brushing his hair out of his face, "I beg you to reconsider. You nearly ingested cyanide!"

His shoulders drooped, "Eudora—"

Her pleading eyes shone wet, her hands cupped around his cheeks. Alabaster faltered. Eudora had raised him as much as his mother had, perhaps even more, save for his formal education. She had taken care of him till he had been old enough to receive chamber servants, assisting in dressing him, feeding him, watching over him. He owed her to ease her mind, did he not?

"I'll protect myself," He sent her a reassuring grin.

In a few minutes time, Alabaster had left his sick room with pockets full. A whistle played between his lips. He'd need to change out of this cotton nightgown soon, before any of the courtiers or the representatives of the Alliance saw him in his underdressed state.

But first, there were amends to be made.

Finding his sister's study wouldn't be hard, she had probably moved into their mother's.

Finding his sister's study was hard.

Alabaster leant on the wall, banging his head upon the stones as he groaned. Of course his sister, sentimental as she was, left their mother's study to be locked up, to be without any use. Of course.

So here he was, wandering through labyrinthine halls until he had found himself in the private quarters of the royal family. He doubted he'd find the room there, however he had almost checked out every wing and section, except for the tunnels dug inside the mountain the palace was carved into.

It was ridiculous how wind up and out of breath this whole excursion had left him, frankly.

One comfort was that the closer he got to the royal chambers, the richer the decorations got, at the very least. More fitting to the image of Epirus that had imprinted itself in his mind before he left for war.

As he dragged his hand across the elaborately carved doors, his ears picked up the sound of unfamiliar boots clinging on the floors. Moreover, the soft tune of a song that he had heard Triton hum from time to time, only livelier than the prince's voice, though the resemblance could be noticed even by Alabaster's musically untrained self.

Cursing quietly, he barged into the first room he came across just in time for Palas to turn the corner.

Alabaster huffed, closing the door behind him. When he raised his head to have a look around, he almost swallowed up his uvula.

His childhood bedroom stood right in front of his nose, touched by not a single speck of dust.

Sentimental as Lou Ellen was, indeed.

The chambers glittered. Almost every specimen of gemstones found in Epirusian mines were inlaid upon the pilasters and pillars, the wallpapers between them enamelled with spirals of gold and bronze. They curled like vines, bursting into painted flowers of belladonna, until it reached the high ceiling. Frescos of the gods adorned the top, framed by scenes depicting the tales of the House of Torrington. Niches supported lovingly crafted statues.

The wealth in this room alone could probably pay off a good amount of Epirus's debts on itself, let alone the multiple conjoined chambers Alabaster knew were there.

Chokes lined up his throat, as his feet took him towards his bed.

An arch separated the bed itself, silk drapings imported from Olympeum so long ago that the Alliance hadn't even been founded yet hung from the mahogany canopies. Embroideries damasked his lush green covers. He ran a hand over the fabric, feeling it ripple like waves beneath his fingers.

Alabaster sat at the edge of the mattress, the hems of his nightgown pooling between his ankles. Exhaustion perched on his shoulders, weighting on his back. Homesickness sunk to the depths of his stomach, settling inside till all he could feel was the suppressed sobs and dread in his belly.

If he simply closed his eyes and laid down, could he open them to find he had never been taken from home?

Could he find his future back in his own hands?

The trembles were pulsing through his body already.

An idea popping in his head, Alabaster stood up, his bare feet padding on the woven carpets as he crossed the room and entered another one: his dressing room. He wondered...

His pendant dangled off his neck as he pulled out a tunic from a drawer. He slipped it on, adjusting the nightgown so its ruffles would not create bumps beneath the emerald velvet. Excitement swam inside his chest, the kind he rarely felt without the help of a goblet anymore. He gathered a few more pieces of clothes in his arms and ran to the nearest mirror, beaming.

His smile sputtered out at the image. Red puffy eyes stared at him, dark circles sagging down his face. His cheeks were sunken in, his lips bitten and bloody. His long hair draped limply over his scalp like dry seaweeds, curled around his neck akin to a collar.

His tunic hung off his frame.

A distressed sound slipped past his chapped lips as he tugged at the fabric, drawing it back onto his shoulders, only for it to fall off anew. This tunic had been tailored for his body perfectly, measured to the smallest stitches. Had Alabaster really had lost so much weight that he was drowning in his own clothing?

Irefully, he yanked the green cloth off, throwing it to the floor as he stomped round, exhaling heavily through his nose. Piles of fabrics laid haphazardly on the floor.

His bedchambers had been preserved as a sanctuary of Epirus therebefore, and Alabaster had ruined it.

Sighing from within, he gathered them back in his arms, walking towards the doors. The sound of retreating footsteps echoed as he leant on them. He pushed them with a shoulder nudge, slinking outside from the opening.

Alabaster relayed the heap of clothes into the arms of a passerby maid, as well as his orders. He threaded his fingers throughout his dishevelled hair, inhaling deep and well, and patted down the pockets of his nightgown.

He had an inkling of the whereabouts of the royal study now.

Alabaster followed the ivy leaves carved on the base of torches for a few corridors, until he came across a set of double doors awfully close to his sister's chambers. Awfully close to the spare room they used to play pretend in, too. He cracked it open.

Lou Ellen sat hunched over her desk, head buried in her glove-clad hands. Her crown laid discarded on some paperwork, her small figure wrecked by muffled hiccups. He slipped in, perching on the spot next to her desk, the one reserved for the heir.

"Leave me alone, Palas!" She punched her study table, eyes screwed shut in anger and desperation.

"I'd hope we have no resemblance."

His sister opened her eyes with a soft gasp, her cheeks blotchy with dried tears. Lou held a trembling hand to his face, her lips quivering, "Al..."

"What's wrong, Louise?" The old childhood nickname fell out of his mouth with practiced ease.

Lou's eyes shone with relief, as she grasped his hands. "Al—"

She started babbling between dry sobs, burying her head on his shoulder and shaking. Alabaster shushed her, rubbing soothing circles on her back. "Breathe, Izzy. Breathe."

Air whistled through her teeth, "Everything is too much."

Alabaster roamed an eye round to check for secret spies, pleased to see Palas did not had the mind to plant some. He squeezed his sister in his embrace, "One thing at a time. What ails you so?"

"King Hephaestus claims some of the tools and materials necessary for his tinkerings has been stolen." Lou whispered, resting her head against his chest, "Demands to be reimbursed, as if I cannot see a fraud plainly."

Truly, there weren't lengths the allied kingdoms wouldn't go just for more wealth lining their pockets. "When has this supposed thievery had taken place?"

"Yesterday morning, near dawn." She scoffed, "The only ones awake at that time were the cooks and the geese seller coming to sell his meat. Who does he think he's fooling? Funny how it was only discovered after the attempted assassination."

Alabaster frowned, nodding along, and patted her shoulder.

Exhaustion shadowed over her features, "And the commoners are revolting again."

His blood ran cold. "What do you mean again? How many times had they done so?"

How many times had they went against their queen, yet still refused to save her from their invaders? Were the people he held so dear to his heart no better than the Atlantian courtiers cheerfully dining with him yet making crude comments behind his back, debating in amusement whether their crown prince deliberately starved him just oh so to fit into his tastes?

"Enough that Palas is considering sending the army if they rebel again after the balls," Lou's voice broke.

"Then why didn't you?" He curled her hair around his finger, humming. An array of reasons whizzed through his thoughts. It could be lack of resources, certainly, or perhaps the peasants had armed themselves with pitchforks. He was sure his sister had her reasons.

"Because..." Her brows knit, "Because they are our people? Why would I treat them so poorly?"

Alabaster blinked. And again. And again. "Well, that's a nice joke."

"Why would I be joking?" Lou drew away, her words pitching higher in volume.

"You do realise if you refuse to crush the eggs before the snakes emerge, they will take your crown and your head with it?" He sent her pleading eyes. Do not make me agree with Lady Palas.

"What would you suggest then?" There was the hiss she seemed to favour these past few days.

"Take action swiftly, hang the head of these bandits." Alabaster snapped, "Console the weak and consolidate the power in the capital. Anything, than be a sitting duck, watching the arrows fly your way."

Lou Ellen's eyes widened as she stumbled backwards, holding onto the chair faintly. "You talk like a tyrant."

Oh for—

When Alabaster had understood as the heir he would be tutored more rigorously in governance, he had not thought that meant his sister would get no lessons on the subject. Clearly, he had been mistaken.

"Tyranny starts where justice ends. Do you see anything just about our situation?" He softened his voice, trying to soothe her into reason.

"Do you hear yourself?!" Her indignated cry rang through the chambers.

Was his sister under the impression their mother kept her throne solely by virtue of being kind? Her political enemies did not came to private feasts they knew they weren't going to leave cause they liked free food, or the taste of poison. Queen Hecate had not managed to make them walk obediently— eat obediently in this instance— to their deaths by being lenient.

"A ruler's greatest mission is to protect their household, their lands, and their people." Alabaster patiently explained, getting up and holding his hands in air, "It needs a delicate balance between an iron fist and a gentle caress to be achieved."

Lou's whole face had blanked. An unreadable expression clouded her face, as she looked at him like one would do to a stranger, "No wonder the Alliance did not want you on the throne."

"That says more about your capabilities than mine, really." He fussed with the frills of his collar, exasperated.

"Maybe," she agreed, hugging herself, "But at least I can sleep knowing my people will not be in fear."

"Then you are a fool. And a wrong one at that." He clicked his tongue. "They are afraid for their lives, sister. Afraid you will not protect them from our invaders."

"You weren't here!" Lou Ellen yelled, "You weren't here to negotiate, to watch half the court be hung, to arrange mother's funeral. How dare you tell me how to rule?"

"But you aren't the one ruling, are you? It's all Lady Palas. Why have you not gotten rid of her?"

Alabaster had spent his last moments before being taken to Atlantis leaving his sister the recipe of mother's special one. And Prince Triton of all people made use of it before his own blood did.

She slumped, defeat seeping through her gaze, "You know why."

He did. Lou had always been the more sentimental one, the one who could hide the barbed wire of a tongue their mother had lent them. The one who was cherished enough to be ignored by the masses, while Alabaster had clung to his pedestal in the interest of their House.

He murmured, falling backwards onto the seat, "You should have."

He wanted a— No. He needed a drink. Preferably a whole bottle. He should had asked Eudora for one the instance he woke up. He could feel his lungs burning in their craving already.

Lou took her own seat, donning on her crown. Her mouth twitched, "And let you be tortured to death? Unlike you, I care about my family."

"What makes you think I don't?" He snorted, despite knowing the answer. How grown up of them. To argue about the same thing for, oh, three days straight.

"I believe their names start with A and P." His sister smiled with no humour behind her eyes, "Aerseus and Pannabeth."

A headache bloomed at his temples as he cackled, "You are awful. Remember how you would stomp your feet on the ground and cry because I kept playing chess with the visiting Sthenian princess?"

"One would think you'd quit after being beaten by Annabeth for the nth time. But you were always stubborn, weren't you?" She huffed, "What do you even see in them?"

"Attention." His tongue worked with a speed that shocked even him. He swallowed up the dryness of the insides of his mouth, "Affection."

Perseus had an easy charm to him, in the way he adored his family, in the way he thanked the servants in stead of his wife. With how he frustratingly refused to bend to the court's workings, dragging the Lords and Ladies into his own playing field kicking and screaming. Annabeth was irresistible, with her quick wit and keen eyes. With how doting she was on those she deemed hers, even to the detriment of her schemes. Going as far as to betray her mother to keep Malcolm. With how she attempted and failed to stiffle her love of arts and dogs.

What was there to not love? They adored him in spite of the fact he had no prospects to his name anymore, no princely duties to be fulfilled. They offered him this part of their lives, even though he was at his lowest.

Because he was at his lowest, Alabaster's mind supplied still, sounding an awful like Ethan, they would keep him at an arm's reach if he could refuse.

"Because you lack both of those so sorely in Epirus," his sister's comment bit, "How unloved were you, O' Your Highness?"

His mood fouled once again.

"It is not the same," he gritted his teeth, "They do not burden me in their love. The Crown could never match that."

"Oh, don't be ridiculous, now!" Lou snapped her fingers, "You always yearned for the throne and the power it gave. If you loved Queen Mother less you'd had committed regicide."

"What nice thoughts you have of me." Where was the girl who looked at him as if he hung the moon and raised the sun? The child who ran after him, clinging to his sleeves, pure adoration and worship in her eyes.

"They would be better if you did not soil the family reputation, beloved brother." The woman she had turned into sneered.

The cyanide travelled down his ears, dripping on his heart one droplet at a time. He wanted to see her cry. If Lou would question his brotherly qualities, why could Alabaster not do the same for her worth as a sister? The hurt ached in his bones.

"You care not for their mistreatment of me," he chuckled, the sounds grating his throat, "Just how it reflects on your reign. You should be commended on your care, what with how great it is."

"Al—"

"It is only threats against your brother that holds your hand against the imposters, right?" He pressed on, to dig the point deeper, to see the tears forming in her eyes. Lou had always been a better person than him. "Good thing he died in the war, then. My condolences on your loss, Your Majesty."

Her face contorted in anguish, lips parted. "...someone should had beheaded you a long time ago."

Alabaster mocked a bow, going as low as he could, and slammed the door on his way out.

At least they were in agreement on one thing since the start of this whole mess.

Now if only the prickling beneath his nose bridge and the blurriness to his vision would stop.

Percy groaned, massaging his ankle. He chucked the shoe across the room, "I hate those stupid heels, they are going to kill my feet."

"A couple nights of dressing properly won't kill you," his wife laughed from where she sat at the vanity.

He flopped down on the bed, "Ah but don't you love how I prefer to dress?"

"Indeed." Annabeth glanced down at his exposed chest, a smirk that made blood rush to his face playing at her lips. "You should keep me and jewel company sometimes, though."

Percy giggled. He had heard enough complaints about his stepmother's official requirement for court matters from his wife. Couldn't blame her, though, the dresses were poor imitations of Sthenian fashion, and not only that but also difficult to move in.

"Are you going to tell him?" Annabeth’s voice broke through the barely hidden tension like a needle falling into silence.

He froze. "Do I have to—"

"His family, his sister, his future, dear." She clicked her tongue, arranging her newly braided hair carefully on top of her head.

Nothing he wasn't aware of. But how could one tell their lover that the father who kept him imprisoned, had also set his eyes on his sister? How could Percy take more from a man that had everything torn from him, in any good conscience?

"You don't need to." Annabeth murmured, draping the last braid artistically around her forehead, "I just think it would be nice, that's all. If he got a warning 'fore hand."

"He'll find out regardless," He gnawed on the inside of his cheek.

She nodded, leaning on the vanity. Her shift hung loose around her legs, her stays unlaced and her skirts piled over a divan instead.

"How do you expect me to?" He nearly begged, "How would you if it was your mother who had hatched up this scheme?"

Weirdly enough, Annabeth’s face went pale. Her eyebrows shot up, her lips drawn into a fine, tight line. Just as he was about to ask her what was wrong, the doors opened.

Speak of the horse and it shall appear, as the stablehands back in Atlantis said, indeed.

Alabaster walked inside, jaw set and posture stiff, yet a gleam in his eyes at the sight of them.

"They released you!" Annabeth exclaimed, grinning. Percy also sent him a smile, trying to not focus on the redness of Alabaster's eyes.

"Your Highnesses," Alabaster crooned, honey dripping down his tone, and batted his lashes.

Annabeth ran to their lover's side, engulfing him in a hug, relieved laughter ghosting along her lips. His heart beat faster as he watched them embrace, Alabaster melting into her touch.

"You are..." Annabeth trailed off, her voice dropping. She took a step back. "Empty your pockets, jewel."

"Princess." Alabaster rolled his hands into fists.

"Do as I told you." Annabeth’s distressed voice rang, her fingers flexing.

"What do you think you'll find?" Percy’s eyes must had comically widened as Alabaster raised his chin in defiance. Of course Annabeth hadn't confessed to jewel that it wasn't their own deaths from his hands that scared her, but his own.

"You tell me." Her harsh voice scraped like metal against stone. "Empty them. Now."

For a second, he thought Alabaster would refuse, the image of his wife pinning him to the wall to search his pockets popping in Percy’s mind. However, he simply cocked his head, grabbing a handful of leaves from his pockets with both hands. "Wild carrots. They make great spices. Happy?"

"Are you sure they are not cow parsley?" She continued. "Or hemlock, perhaps?"

Sometimes, they forgot other people existed in the same space as them, Percy had came to realise pretty soon into his marriage.

"And what if it is?" Alabaster stood his ground, "You'd never know the difference."

"Attend me." Came the request, unmistakable as the order it was to the ears used to her, "Close up my stays."

Ever the dutiful lover, Alabaster shook the leaves to the ground, rushing to complete the task he was given. He curled around Annabeth’s back, fingers nimbly working on the buttons and laces, smoothing out the fabric underneath with his thumbs occasionally.

Percy relaxed on the mattress, drawing his legs into a more comfortable position to sit, as they were tangled together.

"There." Alabaster whispered, and caressed down Annabeth’s body till his hands rested on her hips.

Annabeth pulled him into a kiss, placing her head on his shoulders. What had he done to deserve them?

"Percy has something to tell you." She chimed in, and all but pushed Alabaster towards the bed.

They both grunted as Al fell onto his lap, only to adjust more of his weight on his legs. Annabeth only stared in amusement at Percy’s squirming.

"Well, go on then." Alabaster shifted in place, back to his sweet sweet words, digging his weight into Percy’s bones.

"You're crushing my knee." He mumbled, only to get kicked in the shin in response.

Annabeth tapped her feet repeatedly, seemingly having decided to spare her husband the agony and let him handle the more torturous parts, "Poseidon wants us to divorce."

Thank you, Annabeth. Percy sighed inside. Always barging right to the point.

Alabaster, to his credit, did not react, did not scream. He pulled his legs, tucked his knees under his chin and stabbed more at Percy’s knees with his heels. "I am taking this is not either of yours way of proposing to me."

A snort left his lips. He'd rather prefer it be that. Although his father would likely find a way to turn that into a parade as well.

"Lost your tongue, Perseus?" Alabaster bristled, impatient and tone not unlike Annabeth’s earlier.

"I—" He stumbled, unconsciously rubbing small circles on Alabaster's hips with his thumbs, "Please do not panic."

He glanced at his wife for encouragement. She was gone, however, having had left their quarters.

He took a deep breath, "You know I love you—"

"Are you trying to placate me before calling the guards for my beheading?"

"No!" Percy choked, "Good gods, jewel."

"Then don't eat your words," Alabaster leant his head on his chest. "Why?"

"He set his eyes on Epirus; for the trade, the increased access to the gulf, to stop Sthenias."

Percy clung to his lover, shaky breaths rattling his chest. He remembered the dismay that had washed over him during his talk with his father, the fear and the disgust. The lock on his tongue as he had helplessly listened to his father's cackles, like all of it was some kind of sick joke.

'Oh, do not fret. You can still keep him.' Poseidon had chuckled, as if that was the biggest of Percy’s worries.

"Your sister refuses to sign off the wardship from Sthenias to Atlantis, so—" He wheezed, "He'll marry us, if she continues on her refusal."

"What?"

"He wants me divorced, so I can be available for his marriage threat. And if she still persists—" Percy gulped, hiding his face in his hands— "It will be your life on the line."

Alabaster dug his nails into the side of Percy’s thighs, head bowed.

"Jewel?"

Heavy heavings broke his silence, "What did you say?"

Shame filled him up, "Nothing."

The tension between Alabaster's shoulder blades was the only warning he got before being pushed, harshly might he add, back. His spine hit the mattress.

Percy gasped, "Jewel—"

Alabaster kneeled above him, his eyes flashing with fury. Green flames burnt with hatred. Percy’s blood ran faster; with the angle, the way his features twisted into a scowl, the unbridled loathing on his face, Alabaster was downright alluring.

Percy might had been inclined to believe his navy's claims of sirens if this was what they saw.

"Nothing?" Alabaster hissed, "Your father talks of forcibly marrying off my sister and you said nothing?"

"I didn't know what to—" Percy grimaced. Let him be angry, let him take it out on you— "He took me off guard."

"Is that so?!" He howled, gripping Percy’s shoulders, pressing his thumbs in, "He took you off guard, huh? My sister, Perseus!"

"I have no intention of marrying her!" Percy cried.

Alabaster slapped him. The sound echoed throughout the chambers. His left cheek stung, not much different than the time he had been attacked by a bee.

"I'm sorry— I— Sorry, I know I should had told you yesterday—"

"Would you even do it if not for your wife?" Alabaster asked, face set like stone, blank and unmoving.

Percy shut his eyes, turning his head to the side. He kept silent.

A guttural scream tore out of the man above him. Percy braced himself as the punches started raining. Alabaster cried, sobbed, tears running freely down his cheeks as he scratched Percy’s face. He held his tongue as pain raked down his skin. He could feel a hand moving, thin, long fingers wrapping around his throat.

His windpipe constricted.

Once, Percy had loudly declared that Gabe wasn't his father in the town square. The man, if he could even be called that, had grown red in his anger, dragging Percy back home by the ear. He had yanked down his face into whatever had been left of their bathwater, holding him under the water till Percy had been a breathless, pleading mess, all the while shouting and pouring the contents of one of his bottles on his head. Percy hadn't had an answer to his mother when she had asked why he reeked of alcohol later on.

He gasped.

Percy pulled his crying lover close, wrapped his legs around his waist and flipped their positions. He pressed his knee into Alabaster's ribcage, keeping his hands pinned above his head. Alabaster trashed, bucking, incomprehensible babblings falling out of his lips.

Gripping him by the throat with one hand, Percy ordered, "Down."

Alabaster kicked at the mattress, flailing in his grasp. Percy leant forward, shifting his bodyweight more onto the man beneath him—

As quick as a cut bow string, the fight seeped out of Alabaster. He stilled, limbs spread upon the bed. His hands stayed tangled uselessly with the sheets. His hair crowned the pillows, some strays curled around his pained face.

"Jewel?" Percy tilted his head.

Alabaster drowsily blinked. He stared far away, fixated on a point behind Percy’s head. Widened eyes glazed over and as clear as glass, he bared his throat.

Resigned.

Expectant.

Percy rolled off of him. He squeezed Alabaster's throat slightly, feeling the air pass beneath his fingers. "Breathe, jewel."

He took a shuddering breath, eyes shut.

"Again." Percy pressed, both verbally and physically.

Alabaster's chest trembled again.

Percy had found his mother with the same glossy eyes a long time ago, in her bed, with arms bruised all over. She had told him it was because she had attempted to move a heavy piece of furniture.

How many times had they lied to themselves exactly, about being the only one hurt?

After prompting Alabaster to repeat his hitched breathings a few more times, he murmured, "Better?"

The reply was low enough, that he barely heard it, "Yes, sir."

Percy cringed at the title. Alabaster curled on himself, resting his head on his chest and an arm wrapped around Percy’s waist. "Did I scratch you too much?"

"No," he breathed out, his fingers between Alabaster's hair, "Glad you keep your nails trimmed."

Alabaster hummed, and collapsed into his arms, "Do you love your wife?"

"Yes." Percy gripped his elbow, giving it a comforting squeeze, "Love you, too."

"Then tell your father that, you oaf." Alabaster mumbled as he closed his eyes.

Percy wanted to tell him that it was not that simple, that he wasn't sure his father would listen to him this time. Instead he brushed off Alabaster's tears, offering murmurings until they had both calmed down.

"We should prepare for the ball," Perseus had said, after they had drifted off into their short nap.

Which meant Alabaster was going to prepare Percy.

He stiffled down his bitterness. Alabaster worked on getting Perseus into his dress in silence, head bowed and eyes still groggy from the weight of his shed tears. His fingers had been accustomed to the routine by now, treading through ties and buttons and cuffs methodically, almost akin to the machinery King Hephaestus oh so liked to tinkle with. As he went through the shirt, the waistcoat, the bootlaces, Perseus murmured sweet nothings, possibly further consolidations, though neither of his ears caught onto the exact words in their deafening buzzing.

Wary of the knots tied round his tongue, the lightness to his shaking knees and the clouds surrounding his mind, he kept quiet, in fear of having yet another fainting spell.

He seemed to be having them a lot these days.

Alabaster had never relied on one single person for his dressing before Epirus's surrender, even during the war having had willing soldiers who would help him, Ethan the most forward of them all. Manservants had been there each morning he opened his eyes, ready to attend to their Crown Prince back in his childhood; until his mother had vetted enough Lords who could be trusted in waiting on him, in not spreading rumours about how his twin sister had not died.

It had been a thing he had grown attached to, falling asleep to their chatter and waking up to their loyal faces.

Perseus had no bodyservants, no Lords-in-waiting. No retinue either. Just Alabaster. Doing the job of paid servants without any remuneration. Long enough that Perseus had stopped thanking him for the favour a good while ago.

His heart clenched. Would it ever come to his mind that perhaps Alabaster was futilely expecting the same from him?

He tugged at the knot of Perseus's cravat, fluffing up the frilly ends.

A glance at his chin confirmed that Perseus's beard was starting to grow. Alabaster would need to shave him soon. Himself, too, after he was done with the Prince.

"Done." He rasped.

Perseus flashed him a grin so fond that it was almost enough to sweep away Alabaster's lingering exhaustion. He cupped his jaw softly, pressing a kiss to his forehead, causing Alabaster's lashes to flutter, "We'll be waiting for you."

Stay, he wanted to beg. His heart jumped inside his ribcage. Just one time. Just one time of being dressed by his lovers rather than Poseidon's servants, then Alabaster would be content.

Disappointingly, he had left before Alabaster could loosen his tongue. So, he had no choice but to wait for the servants.

Pacing up and down the length of the chambers, he decided to change that. It was not like he could breathe here, anyway.

He settled for walking along the corridors.

A hand clasped his shoulder.

His eyes met dark, aquamarine ones.

"Just the man I was looking for," King Poseidon sent him a thin smile, "Let us walk."

Poseidon's tight grip on him forced Alabaster to follow, the two of them passing through this hall or that.

"Your Majesty." Alabaster steeled his voice, raising his chin.

"My son." Poseidon started.

He recoiled. Surely, Poseidon wasn't calling him—

"Have you not noticed how unhappy he seems as of late?" Poseidon was going to bruise his shoulder.

Alabaster wrenched himself away from the King, crossing his arms, "What does he have to be upset over?"

"And isn't that the question?" Poseidon mulled over, hands clasped behind his back. He must had been perturbed enough by Perseus's mood that he hadn't noticed the scorn dripping off his tongue. "I never should had brought him here. One of your serpentine brethren must had harassed him about being the best sailor he could be during the war. My poor boy."

Alabaster hummed, incredulity chiming through his tone. Yes, that was it. Prince Perseus was crying over a few Epirusians not liking him for no reason. It was not like he led to their queen's death. Oh wait. "I am sure it has nothing to do with your fatherly sentiments, sir."

Poseidon's face twisted, "Why does Perce insists upon leaving your tongue uncut, again?"

He inspected his nails, raising his brows, "I can think of plenty reasons."

Poseidon let out a single cackle, "Good. In either case, you will turn his mood around. That's an order."

"Let him see his mother, then." He rolled his eyes. He was not to be responsible for Perseus's feelings.

"Watch it." The King's eyes flashed, as he pinned him to the walls rather roughly, "Percy and his wife will celebrate their anniversary after this. I do not care what you do, how you do, but my son better have a smile on his face when you three return from Thera."

Alabaster opened his mouth, before snapping it back close. He stared at Poseidon's hand grasping at his nightgown, the fabric taut beneath his fist. His back was flush against the damp stones.

His breath hitched.

"Without involving Mrs. Sally," Poseidon lowered his voice, his features soft despite the burning of his gaze.

"Trouble with your wif—" He was cut off by a thumb invading his mouth. His nerves lit alight in alarm, a muffled scream obscured by the appendage digging towards his throat.

"Ah-ah," Poseidon grinned, a predatory glinting to his eyes, "Just shush and do what they keep you around for."

Alabaster tried to push him off, pounding at the King's chest. The biting of tears nibbled at him throughout his upsurging panic. He gagged as Poseidon pressed his thumb deeper.

"Please him. Won't be too hard, will it?"

Alabaster found himself thrown on the floor, his spine protesting in pain at the impact.

"What if I—"

"If I see Percy frowning I will have the guards beat you black and blue." Poseidon promised.

He coughed, wishing to rid of the awful taste Poseidon's finger left on his tongue, "You wouldn't."

"I doubt my son would mind you being bedbound for a while," a smirk danced on Poseidon's lips, "If it's his bed, that is."

As he pushed himself to his knees, Poseidon was already strolling away, "Oh, and— Count yourself lucky I will not make you pay off the damage to those chains. They were expensive."

Alabaster breathed in. Breathed out. Inspected the embroideries on his deep blue waistcoat. Sewn to look like fish scales, the beads and the seams shone in iridescent hues. With white lace trimmed along the edges akin to foams, a single aquamarine stone served as the button to close the garment.

It was a good waistcoat. It was an expertly crafted waistcoat.

The obvious care that went into this particular article of clothing still did not ease the churning of his stomach.

Helping himself with one hand on the walls, Alabaster walked towards where he knew the couple would be waiting for him. He could feel the stares of the passing servants etched on his back; the whispers, the judgement, the disgust—

How could he blame them when he himself wanted to vomit?

Sheer silks tucked under his breeches and cuffed at the wrist with simple strings were what he had been presented as a shirt. Their diaphanous nature did nothing to conceal the white-gold bangles squeezing his biceps under the fabrics, and on the contrary, only drew more attention to them.

The collar of the shirt was fastened by an actual one.

He snorted to himself. Oh sure, none of Poseidon's servants would tell that to his face, but what else was Alabaster supposed to call the golden choker with a trident engraved around his throat?

Strings of pearls cascaded down the gold band, the necklaces going as far as his mid-chest. And because the humiliation was not enough, his hair had been twisted into a bun with opalised crab claws, arranged to resemble an anchor.

Alabaster raised his head from where it hung low in shame. Two twinkling faces greeted him, his lovers visibly brightening at his presence.

Alabaster spread out his arms, forcing a smile, "Am I handsome?"

Annabeth’s pupils blew, a hungry look on her face. Breathless, she whispered, "Unbelievably pretty."

That was not what he asked.

Perseus caressed along his jaw, flicking the hook earrings dangling off his ears, "Shall we?"

Nodding, he took the offered arm, swept in the couple's embrace as they entered the ballroom. Strings burst into a cacophony, flower arrangements filling every corner. The rottingly sweet scent of the colour bursts enticed in the collected nobility. Skirts and capes and coats swished around as people went from table to table, familiar and unfamiliar gazes roaming the crowd and those that joined it.

If the herald had announced them, Alabaster did not hear. The static noise of the sounds drowned whatever could reach to his ears. His flesh burnt where Annabeth’s hand wrapped round his elbow, where Perseus's fingers rested on the small of his back, scorching, making him unable to feel anything else.

Poseidon's thumb in his mouth stung like a thousand nettles, Perseus pressing him more and more into the mattress, pining him with his uncaring gaze as Alabaster writhed and cried.

The practiced movements of putting one foot before the other was agony, an invisible weight dragging down his limbs. He dug his nails into Perseus's arm, seeing a man approaching them through the haze clouding his vision.

"Your Highnesses!" The Atlantian nobleman bowed his head in greeting.

Alabaster narrowed his eyes, rackling his mind for the memory of where he knew the man from. Unfortunately, for the man that is, his wife had left more of an impression when she had asked Alabaster a recipe for a sleeping draught, so that she could sneak off to meet her lover after putting her husband to sleep. He had provided, of course, the woman had a cousin higher up in court and a favour was a favour. There had been no reason for him to refuse the payment.

Annabeth and Perseus would had looked at him horrified if they knew half the orders Alabaster had gotten. Good. Sometimes they needed reminders that he had been a prince.

Alabaster doubted the man was aware of his wife's escapades or his own part in it, considering he was yet to get punched in the face.

"How are you finding Epirus, sir?" Perseus asked, to be courteous probably.

"Oh, fine enough. Though I wasn't expecting the night chill to be this cold." The man tugged at his handkerchief, his eyes wandering until they found Alabaster. The ensuing smile was an ugly little thing, "But I assume neither of you lacked a warm bed?"

Hysteric cackles erupted from Alabaster's mouth, as if the man had told the funniest joke, startling a flustered Annabeth and a Percy glowing red in his fury. He dragged them away, bidding the man goodbye.

He wanted to claw at his own skin, tear out his flesh, leave it all bloody in hopes that people would stop staring and leering—

Water rised in his lungs. His knees buckled, a lightness to his whole person as he lurched forward, flying on the clouds.

Stars bursted in front of his eyes as the world went dark.

Heated hands eased him to the floor, concern filling up and leaking from Perseus and Annabeth’s gazes. He accepted the goblet pushed towards him, pulling his knees to his chest as he sat on the marbled floors.

"Drink, jewel."

Without question, he lapped at the water, the cool drink gliding down his throat and sprinkling upon his heavy heart. He rested his head against Annabeth’s legs, the pearly whites and turquoises of her skirts draping near the sides of it.

A small group slowly gathered around them, curious about his well being, although the feeling was much more likely to be driven by boredom and the need for gossip rather than care.

His sister was not among them.

"Maybe I should call upon the palace physician of Sthenias," Annabeth hoisted him up, murmuring, "Clearly Atlantis's is incapable of helping your dizzy sessions."

"Okay, show's over." Percy shooed the crowd, "Scram."

"Going to get himself assassinated with that attitude," he whispered, tucking his face in the crook of Annabeth’s neck. She huffed a laugh, rubbing circles on his back.

"Are you alright?" Perseus grasped his hands, prying the goblet and setting it on a table. If he did not stop the love oozing from his gaze right this instance, Alabaster would empty his stomach on his dress shoes.

He nodded instead, sneaking a hand around Annabeth’s waist.

"Perhaps the crowd is too much for you?"

Alabaster sneered in his own mind. He was not to be confined in their rooms on his lonesome the whole night just because the Atlantian courtiers thought his relationship was the most entertaining thing after Nerites's promotion to Chancellor.

"I do quite like large parties," He commented, flapping a hand in the air as he pulled Perseus's wife to the dance floor, "They are much more intimate."

Music changed course, slower notes starting to play. Lulling people into a false waltz. Lines began to form in the center of the hall, couples taking their places. Poor Perseus grumbled at the two of them, having been stuck with a minor noblewoman from Chalceus.

"Don't let the music fool you," Alabaster grinned. The rhythm went on steady, predictable— one step forward, two steps to the left, go back and start again— one that his old tutor had drilled into him till he could do it on his sleep.

It was also going to catch half the room off guard, he knew it.

"I know how Epirus dances," Annabeth hissed, clutching his hand with her fingers as she stumbled to pace herself according to the fastening music.

Despite himself, Alabaster laughed, stomping his heels at the beat with the rest of the men. "Going to spin you now."

Annabeth masked her yelp with a faked giggle when she was thrown on air, passed onto the dancer on her left as he stepped towards his own. A Sthenian Duchess fell into his arms and the ballroom resumed their previous choreography yet again.

Fix your posture, Chancellor Claymore would had said if he were here. Alabaster had never managed to fulfill the man's expectations.

They changed partners once more.

As the dance went on, he had walked at least halfway throughout the hall. He glanced at the woman who was currently his dance partner. The Chalceian Lady had her hair bound up into two braids with silver ribbons, giggling as they swished along with their steps.

"You look concerningly thin," She mused, brows knit and mouth quirking up.

"I think I'm dying," Alabaster exhaled and shrugged.

Her giggles pitched higher, "That would do it!"

He grabbed her waist, lifting her up to pass the Lady to the next person. His next partner was of Epirus. A loose braid dangled down her half-updo, purple and pink robes capturing her figure. A thick golden belt, studded with jewels, tied the satin fabrics over her tight white shirt.

"My, my. I didn't think they'd let you come." Lady Circe said, "An oversight I'd imagine, to let the twin vipers meet."

Alabaster let out a cackle, beaming from ear to ear, "Lady Circe! What a pleasant surprise."

"Likewise, your Highness." She smirked, swaying her hips.

Lady Circe had been one of his mother's Lady-in-waitings, and one of his closest confidants, at least when it came to palace gossip that is.

"How is Atlantis treating you?" She tilted her head. "The children are not giving you difficulty, are they?"

"What children—" Alabaster blinked, then groaned, "I do not have any secret children, I assure you!"

"Oh but the rumours would indicate otherwise." She smiled sweetly, "Though I suppose it would be hard for you to ship the kid off to the late Queen Hecate as they say."

Honestly. Let the King crown his bastard and suddenly everyone supposedly sired affair children.

"Are you well?" He changed the subject, feeling the heat crept up his neck.

"Had to keep myself away from court," Circe sighed, "But it was worth it to keep my House intact and untaxed."

"And how did you manage that?" Alabaster arched his brows.

How had she managed to abandon his sister?

"The troops had to rest somewhere, you know." She said, "They worked so hard at conquering us. It was only fair I opened up my estate. I am renowned for my hospitality, after all."

He shook his head in fondness, "You poisoned them."

"What a vile accusation!" She batted her eyelashes, "It's not my fault that their fragile stomachs could not handle the delights of Epirusian cuisine."

Lady Circe's estates were always an interesting occasion for visitation, even if his mother had been hesitant let them be alone without a chaperone. Filled to the brim with young girls as attendants and young girls only, Lady Circe's houses were spectators to grand feasts, that resulted in many noblemen dissappearing off the public eye.

"You tended to them, of course." He flashed a grin.

"Of course, with a price that is." Circe agreed, "Their general even begged for my help on his knees."

"And?"

Her face fell, "He was married."

"Like that stopped you before." He twirled her.

"Odysseus was a married Sthenian General." Circe scowled.

If he was a better man, he would not laugh in her face. But he was not. "Should have picked an Atlantian one!"

Lovesick fools, the lot of them.

Her eyes twinkled, "You would know, wouldn't you?"

Alabaster choked, then some more as the beat changed. He rushed to join the gathering circle of men in the middle of the dance floor, while the women formed a chain near the walls.

This was one of his favourite parts; stomping on beats and holding his left arm out, to interlink their fingers. Only to clap and change the turn direction and arm.

It was far more fun than the simple air kicks Annabeth was stuck with, in his humble opinion.

"I have no idea what I'm doing," a whisper came from his behind.

He threw a look behind to see Perseus's nervous face, an anxious smile plastered on.

"Just do what I do, dear." Alabaster winked, grabbing his hand to guide it into position.

The blush coating the Prince's cheeks was almost enough to make Alabaster reconsider sneaking a chalice of wine.

"—am just saying."

Alabaster hummed, pouring the peach coloured drink into the glass flutes, handing one of them to the woman he was conversing with. "I still do not think Empress can maintain her control over the Sthenian territories in the long duration. The empire is way too large to be able to be governed with one capital."

"Fair point," the Lady raised her glass for a toast.

His sister was giving a speech up from her throne, though the words were drowned under the chatter, cutlery noises and glass clinkings.

"What did you say your position in the court was again?" Alabaster took a sip, savouring the sweet aftertaste left on his tongue.

"A Viscountess." She narrowed her eyes at a group of Atlantian nobles walking past them, "I am glad to be bestowed upon the honour of waiting on Her Imperial Majesty, too. Although the court has been in a grim mood lately, ever since we lost the Prince and the Princess was married off."

"I can imagine." Faux sympathy laced his words. He downed the glass, reaching for the pitcher for another fill, "I believe the Sthenian court was rather upset by her marriage to a bastard, yes?"

"It's less about the illegitimacy and more about the dishonour towards Poseidon's eldest and wife, actually." She shook her head, "It would be an advantageous match otherwise."

Alabaster shrugged. The Viscountess needn't know all he and his lovers had done to keep their marriage intact, in the days following the wedding.

"It could have been quite like this one play I saw, too." She drank.

He perked up, "The one where the Princess disguises herself as a steward to meet up with her lover and they unite their kingdoms into one at the end?"

"Oh, yes!" Her face brightened, "I was under the impression only me and my husband had seen it. Romance is a grossly misunderstood and scorned genre."

She had no wedding ring.

"Agreed," Alabaster finished half his glass, the heat starting to prod at his mind, "It is great to find another enjoyer. I personally find the knowledge it contains quite useful."

"It is where I've discovered my love for the art of herbology." She nodded, "Fascinating how the same flower can both give you a painful end and save you from afflictions."

He grabbed her hand in excitement, "Dear ma'am, would you like more alcohol?"

Just as she opened her mouth, a hand was brought down his shoulder. He flinched, whipping his head towards his back. Prince Triton's cold gaze stared him down.

"Hello, sweetheart." The Viscountess smiled.

Triton raised his brows, "Going after my wife too, Epirus? Was my brother's not enough?"

He sputtered out the drink.

They stared at him in amusement. Damning himself for not seeing the similarities to Palas, Alabaster faintly placed his glass back onto the table and blurted out, "You are not married."

"Maybe we eloped." The Viscountess winked, "Would be a nice rumour to circulate, no?"

She was definitely Palas's mother.

Barely stiffling a giggle, which was uncharacteristic of Triton on itself, he grinned, "I believe my brother is looking for you. You might want to get rid of the alcohol smell."

Gulping, Alabaster fixed his shirt sleeves, and fled the table.

Luckily, Circe was waving at him near a table full of canapés and delicacies.

"Hiding?" She asked, popping a miniature tart in her mouth.

"Not particularly, no." Perseus was twirling Annabeth. "Is Baroness Medea around?"

She'd likely have a perfume to mask the fact he had been drinking.

"She moved to Sthenias, after marrying some rich Marquis." Circe eyed him up, then turned her gaze on another direction. That was a way of escaping persecution, he supposed. "I do not remember you being this boring."

Alabaster frowned, roaming his eyes across the ballroom until they settled on Nerites and Poseidon, the latter laughing as he exaggerated his hunt tales to a crowd.

"Chancellor Nerites is poisoning himself." He pointed with his head.

Circe widened her eyes, urging him to continue.

"He gets himself sick so the King will come to his feet instead of the other way around." Alabaster cackled, "Pull a chair, you will like this."

He had missed the gossip circle of Epirus's court.

Empress Athena was going to bore Lou Ellen to death.

She smiled, shaking her head along as the Empress droned on and on about trade routes and such. They had already talked of taxation laws, crime rates, the best way to keep the upstart nobility in line. And when Lou said talked of, she really meant that Athena had talked at her.

Someone must had been bothered by her now empty palace more than she let on.

Of course, it would been an insult to imply if the Empress was lonely.

"—young Prince Di Angelo does not know what he's doing, monopolising the coal trade—" She stopped abruptly, eyes narrowed to a far away point.

Lou followed her gaze. Alabaster had Prince Perseus's coat thrown on his shoulders, covering his rather revealing attire, swaying on his feet as he rested his weight upon the Prince's shoulders, looking half dead. Perseus had one hand snaked around her brother's waist, the other linked with his wife's arm. Princess Annabeth was excitedly chattering with a few noble ladies, her head tucked under her husband's chin.

Ugh.

"They are—"

"Being ridiculous?" Lou offered.

"Idiots." Athena hissed with such vitriol even Lou was taken aback, despite agreeing with the statement.

"Athena!" Queen Aphrodite's bell-like voice interrupted them, "Don't act like you have never been young and in love!"

Perseus leant in, whispering something into her brother's ear that made him blush crimson. Alabaster nodded, letting himself be dragged out of the ballroom by the couple.

"Excuse me..." Lou murmured, taking advantage of the two monarchs's bickering to leave the hall herself.

Once she was in her chambers she grabbed a letter opener, and slashed right through her brother's portrait.

Someone really really should had beheaded him a long time ago.

Chapter Text

Everything will go perfectly fine, Alabaster had said to Ethan.

The healers were experts, after all.

His dear Ethan just had to endure the crowd.

"Thank you," Prince Torrington smiled at the maid filling his cup, brushing their fingers intentionally while taking the goblet. She blushed, ducking her head as she scampered off to serve other nobles.

Chuckling softly to himself, he took a sip of the fresh water, the coolness a pleasant balm to the humidness of the packed theatre. All kinds of palace residents filled the rows; Lords and Ladies gossiped and pointed out the sharpness of the tools, courtiers drinking and chatting to their hearts's contents. Servants milled round, providing refreshments. Some soldiers were huddled in the far corner, waiting on the fate of their brother-in-arms. A group of young noble boys were joking around with eachother a couple rows up. A courtesan sat in front of them, head rested on one of the boys's lap, giggling at something. Scholars were watching diligently and taking notes.

There were not many entertainment options during autumn in court, that much was evident.

Alabaster sighed, chin resting on his fist as he leaned back, eyes trained on his beloved guard. Ethan thrashed on the operating table, one eye forced open and the other darting back and forth, mouth agape. Spit and tears trailed down his cheeks. Overall, however, he seemed to be taking it quietly, if a little frozen in spot.

Like the brave soldier he was, a flutter warmed the inside of Alabaster's chest.

Ethan sent him a pleading look. He had begged prior to his operation that it would be in private. Too bad Alabaster hadn't managed to ensure that, the needs of the many had overshadowed Ethan's wants, which he had understood. He always did. He was Alabaster's favoured guard for a reason.

He flashed him a grin from above.

That would ease Ethan's nerves.

"While our family does appreciate this favour," a stone cold voice rang behind him, metals clashing together, "It is an inappropriate time for charming the help."

A pit of dread formed inside his ribs. Captain Nemesis peered him down with her bright amber eyes, glinting a predatory yellow under the torches's low light.

Alabaster pushed his drink away, clasping his hands together, "I believe you're supposed to call me 'Your Highness'."

Internally he cursed himself for thinking the Head of the Royal Guard would not show up. Of course she would, she was Ethan's mother. In his defense, Nemesis had cast a belief that she cared naught for anything but duty.

Besides, was she not the reason Ethan was on the table in the first place? She had some nerve to come to the surgery; when it was her that had gone overboard and grazed her son's eye during training, even though all the other soldiers around had told her to stop. It had been her who insisted the injured eye be taken out entirely, instead of leaving it to the Fates and bandages.

She sat next to him, legs crossed and a hand caressing the whip strapped to her side. Nemesis arched an eyebrow.

"I am just ensuring the servants's loyalty." He shifted in place, avoiding her piercing gaze, "Making them feel appreciated."

"What a nice little princeling you are," Nemesis crooned. He wasn't sure if she was mocking him, he never was.

Down in the center, Ethan screamed. Captain Nakamura clicked her tongue, and grabbed Alabaster's cup of water for herself. He let out a nervous huff of breath, palms sweaty against eachother.

No wonder people so rarely tried to assassinate his mother. Even with being the Crown Prince, Nemesis's scrutiny sent shivers throughout his body. He couldn’t imagine how the Captain treated those that attempted on Queen Hecate's life.

Day and night, trailing after the Queen like a cloak of shadow, protecting from the sidelines by just reputation enough. Unseen but not unheard of.

Was it so shocking that Alabaster dreamt of a personal guard as loyal as she for when the time came for his taking of the throne?

He could see it whenever he closed his eyes, just beneath his eyelids; his spouse on his side and his sister on the other, Ethan standing right behind them in the ceremonial armour currently belonging to his mother.

A fit of coughing drew both their attention.

Alabaster's face soured, as he scowled, "What is he doing here?"

Chancellor Claymore pounded on his chest, wheezing and red on the face. Perched on the closest row to the healers, the man was holding onto a goblet with his free, shaking, hand. Crimson wine shone full to the brim. A bottle laid discarded near his feet.

"Honestly." Nemesis spat into his water, "It's barely noon."

Alabaster hummed, glancing at his cup. As much as Nemesis's presence made his whole being uneasy, the infuriation of Howard Claymore's incompetence still drowned it out, enough that he'd agree with her.

Daring to advise his mother when he didn't spend a single hour sober, daring to criticise Alabaster's capabilities— He had lost count of the amount of times he was called overzealous, easily swayed and a threat to Epirus's sovereignty. The amount of times the Chancellor had ripped up his petitions, and advocated that Lou Ellen would be more fit for the Crown, unless he himself mentored the Prince.

Which, while Lou would had made an excellent queen, there was a reason why Alabaster was the heir instead.

"If he was going to neglect his duties he could have done so in Burly's tavern," He sneered, watching the man groan and hold his head, "I'd rather hang my Chancellor than be advised by a drunkard."

Nemesis sent him an amused look, a smirk playing on her lips, "Is that so?"

"He should had stayed home and worked on his manuscripts." He said with more conviction.

Vindication sparked in her eyes, before they flicked to somewhere off the sides, mouth set in a thin line. He followed her gaze towards the doors, where a few guards were arguing with a man, grappling his frantic movements and limbs.

She leapt to her feet, muttering curses to the gods under her breath as she ran towards the commotion. Alabaster stretched, intrigued, and moved to follow her.

If a hand on his shoulder hadn't stopped him. "Your Highness."

"Chancellor." Alabaster gritted out, the pleasantries tearing at his throat.

"I needed a moment with you, sir." Claymore pushed his twin monocles up his nose, pursing his lips.

"There, you have it." Alabaster crossed his arms. For whatever reason, his mother valued the man's company, as he had been reminded by her time and time again. "Go on."

Perhaps what stung the most was the rumours that the Queen's respect towards her Chancellor led to. Alabaster would had rather be one of High King Zeus's numerous bastards than be Claymore's offspring.

"I do not think you should lead the Prince's Armies."

He blinked in bafflement, repeating the words numbly, "They're called the Prince's Armies."

The Chancellor took a deep, impatient, breath, "Yes but when the war breaks out—"

The beating of his heart spiked. Alabaster shushed the man, eyes darting through the room for eavesdroppers, "Watch your words, sir. There will not be a war, her Majesty is working towards further peace."

"And may Trivia help her in her endeavours." Claymore straightened, "But let's not kid ourselves. A bloody conflict is almost inescapable by now."

"You said almost."

The man ignored him, "I just think it would be more productive if your Highness gained more experience under the tutorship of someone skilled beforehand."

Ah. So this was another one of Chancellor Claymore's underminings of Alabaster. As if he hadn't spent years rigorously training both his body and mind, as if he wasn't practicing drills right next to the troops he would command. It didn't matter if he could wield a sword that matched his own height, that he could shoot a target accurately with a crossbow while he had his eyes closed. It wasn't important if Alabaster had read every strategy book in the palace library until the covers fell out, if he could map the entirety of Epirus's terrains while asleep.

No matter how qualified he was, no matter how much the soldiers relied on him; Alabaster would never, ever, be anything else but a little entitled child in the Chancellor's eyes.

Had he mistaken him for a soft handed lordling?

"And who would that be?" Alabaster's voice dropped, "You?

"Of course not." Offended sputters left Claymore's mouth, the stench of alcohol hitting Alabaster's face directly, "However, one of the generals—"

"With all due respect, Chancellor," Which was none, "You should stick to what you know best. Writing your books and drinking till you faint."

With that, he spun on his heel, deafening his ears to the angry protests of the man.

He needed a breath of air that hadn't been contaminated by the insufferable Chancellor's presence.

At least what greeted him outside the operating theatre wasn't dull.

"—causing a scene and embarrassing me!" Captain Nemesis took a step forwards, unaware he was right behind her.

"He is my son too!" The man— was that Mr Nakamura?— shouted, "And then I don't hear he got injured from you?!"

Nemesis let out a bitter cackle. Sunrays filtered through the windows, reflecting sharply off of her armour as she grasped her whip, "We had a deal, dear husband. Our firstborn would be mine to mold as I please. You were free to take on any follow-ups or neighbouring kids for your own means. You agreed, do not go after Ethan now."

Mr Nakamura trembled, nose twitching, he opened his mouth—

Alabaster coughed.

They whipped their heads towards him simultaneously.

Alabaster inspected his shirt cuffs from where they peeked under his tunic, "Is everything alright?"

"Your Highness." Nemesis grabbed her husband's forearm, her gauntlet digging through the fabric, "It is nothing but mere marital matters. Not worth your concern."

"If there is anything I can help with—"

"You have helped enough." She snapped, her shadow towering over him, "We wouldn't want the Crown Prince to accidentally injure himself now, would we?"

Alabaster stilled, backing towards the wall slightly, "Was that... a threat?"

Her toothy grin promised danger if he pushed further, "Decide for yourself."

Alabaster was burning up.

He gasped for breath, writhing under the scathing touches he was subjected to. The covers pinned him onto the mattress, sheets clinging to his body, weighting him down. Exhaustion circled inside his veins in the stead of blood. His mouth was parched, his eyes dried from already shed tears.

His scalp screamed in pain at the nails raking across it, a hand caressing throughout his hair.

His legs were sore, his arms too heavy to lift himself up.

With a horrifying realisation, it dawned to him that he couldn't remember the night before.

"Good morning, jewel." Perseus's voice was so low it sent tremors down his spine.

The heat had him in shackles, the skin against his own scorching. His mind was muddled, his only salvation that the aftereffects of his drinking spree hadn't seemed to hit him much.

Perseus's lips brushed the base of his nape, burning holes into where they met the flesh.

He held his hips with such gentleness, that he might as well had crushed the bones underneath its force. Alabaster wanted to sob, to cry, to hold onto—

To scream until panicked guards barged in, so that he could relish in the betrayal his lovers would feel. If any guards would come in the first place.

Instead of any of it, he curled into a ball, trying to escape the searing affection choking the air out of his lungs.

"Oh, jewel." Annabeth murmured, stopped petting his hair.

It was too much— The fire was consuming his entire being, the fingers trailing down his back was branding him. A few drops of tears forced themselves out of his closed shut lashes.

They were going to kill him.

They were going to continue till he was reduced to ashes inside their embrace.

A wail tore through his throat.

"I am so tired," he sobbed.

Heated kisses were prepped all over his cheeks, as he chased after the warmth.

"Rest, dear." Perseus whispered, hugging him while wiping away his tears, "It was a long night. Sleep in."

His head lolled to the side, his shoulders shaking. His tongue was tied under the worried gazes of Annabeth and Perseus.

With nothing much to do, he attempted to go back to sleep, hoping he wouldn't be mere cinders when he woke again.

He couldn’t feel anything.

With groggy eyes, Alabaster pushed himself against the headboard on his numb arms. The blankets hung loose over his legs and the empty sides of the bed. A breeze blew throughout the room, its icy hands wrapped around Alabaster's heart.

On the bedside stood a silver tray, with a delicate china cup filled with some herbal tea and a bowl of cut fruits.

He grabbed the cup, downing the liquid in one big gulp. The bitter tea burnt his throat, his stomach, all the way to his intestines, until he was retching out gasps. He glanced at the cooling porcelain in his hands, frowning. At least he had finished the gods-awful tea.

He put it on the tray, and pushed it away from himself.

Everything ached.

Alabaster groaned, pulling the covers over his head. Frost bit at his exposed skin. Venus must had cursed him. Why else would his lovers only be around when he didn't need them?

Someone yanked the blanket off of him.

Alabaster's shriek rang across the chambers.

The servants backed off, some shielding their eyes in caution.

Anger bubbling and boiling in the pits of his stomach, he reached for his morning robes, hastily tying it over his flimsy nightgown. "Do any of you have some semblance of shame?!"

"Clean sheets." Hurley stepped forward, tugging the ends of his red scarf with one hand and holding out a stack of pale fabric on the other. Displeasure leaked from his tongue.

Alabaster snatched up the closest book, shuffling towards the drawing room, and huffed in Hurley's direction deliberately.

He settled on the divan, propping his feet up. If Annabeth and Perseus were going to leave him alone, he could very much entartain himself on his own, till they returned.

If they returned, his mind whispered. His heart beat stuttered, fear lodging itself at the back of his throat. He shooed the thought away, gnawing on his bottom lip.

They would. Preferably with apologies for how they left the chambers without a single note about their whereabouts.

Satisfied, he flipped open the leather-bound book, throwing a lazy look towards the title.

Oh, he had read this one before: A collection of epics through the land, rewritten in rhymes. He turned the pages until he reached his childhood favourite.

It was about a cannibal King, named that not because he ate people, though that was to be debated, but because he slaughtered down his own and other kingdoms's citizens when annexing them. His scythe dripping with the fresh blood of the peasants he reaped like late spring harvests, he was to be feared by all, his wife herself having ran off long ago.

Alabaster shuddered. With conquered territories came the need for hostages, after all, to keep the monarches in line. So the Cannibal King had swept away six young heirs into his court: three boys and three girls.

Funny, Alabaster used to be horrified that the story had put the children in such a tricky position. Now, he was brimming with envy about it almost. Jealous at how good they had it compared to him: Presented with whole palace wings no less extravagant than their own back at home, free to roam and talk with whomever they pleased, whenever and wherever they wanted without ever begging. Allowed to keep their kingdom's clothing, and all the luxuries the palace had to offer, bar for participation in politics.

No one to defer to. No one to treat them less than.

He hurriedly skipped a few pages.

As they grew, however, so had the King's empire, larger than life, larger than it could support itself. Afraid that the empire would collapse onto its own confines, he issued a challenge. The hostages would battle eachother in a duel, the winner gifted the crown to the King's empire and the losers's kingdoms set free from their chains.

The eldest Princess was soft spoken and warm handed, having hated violence and the kingdom that had tried to marry her off without her will before. Gaining the favour of one of the palace cooks after helping the old woman bake bread for the King's endless feasts, she managed to smuggle herself out to a nearby temple. Pledging herself to the service of the eternal fires, she had lived the rest of her life quietly, surrounded by fellow priestesses that became more her family than her noble parents.

The middle Princess had her eyes on something bigger, frustrated by how the garden of opportunities the King had amused them with did not include a seat of power. Having a love for all things nature, be they the prettiest flowers blooming through carnage or a prey bird digging into the corpse of a beautiful canary, she understood the King better than most, who spent the times he wasn't being a despot by curating his gardens and soiling his hands, not with blood but with dirt.

So she had plead to the King, publicly declaring her loyalty and denouncing her birthright. In return, he honoured her by making her his Minister of Agriculture, giving her titles and lands, all hers to reap and sow to her heart's content.

The oldest Prince had been a sickly child, who matured into a sickly adult. Frail and wrecked by fainting spells that came out of nowhere, he knew he wouldn't have survived a duel. His vulnerable nature had left him with a deep appreciation of life, however, and he did not intend to suffer a bloody death, not even if it meant his kingdom would be independent once more.

In the end, he had locked himself in his chambers. Soon to be forgotten by the courtiers of all the lands, save for the poets.

The middle Prince was quite the charmer, though not very concerned about the duel, as either way his family would benefit from it. One night, overcame with homesickness right before the duel, he took a stroll through the golden sands at the coast of the King's empire, the waves hitting the sharp, spiney rocks full force. That was when melodic tones of a song had called to him across the vast ocean, an invite of comfort and softness. An eternal paradise where he needn't worry his pretty head with worldly matters.

The Prince had vanished overnight, sharing the fate of the Eldest, never to be seen again.

Alabaster chuckled to himself, reminiscing on the time that they had received the news Prince Perseus of Atlantis had gone missing in action during the war, lost between the waves as they were told. It had boosted a great bit of morale, sprinkling fresh water onto his soldiers's sullen spirits. If only his lover had stayed faraway from the army.

The youngest Princess was ambitious, plotting and scheming behind her bejewelled feather fans, her mind always whizzing with intrigues. Luckily for her, so was the youngest Prince. With a subtle nudging from Cupid himself, the match had been sparked, the two smitten by the other as much as they were smitten by power.

They had quickly arranged the coastal walkline to go near siren territories, getting rid of their only competition.

Knowing the Cannibal King would not allow two winners, they hatched up a feast in his honour, as the King never passed an opportunity to boast.

Excitement fluttering in his chest, Alabaster devoured the next few pages, reading the gruesome details of the King's poisoning. The epic ended with the two crowned the new King and Queen, and leading the lands into a golden age.

Alabaster frowned, a sour taste lingering under his tongue. The epic had been fictionalised more than he had thought of, now that he gave it a read-over it seemed.

Hostages did not easily get back their crowns, they did not survive the vicious court with minimal blood staining their hands.

They were stretched upon a too high pedestal like a slab of meat, open to be cut into pieces to satisfy the others's hunger.

Whether those others were burning sticky hands, trapping him inside their honeyed affections, or callous fingers stripping him off his agency, deaf to any of his wishes and desperate to keep him caged.

"—jewel."

Ringing buzzed inside Alabaster's ears. Cold had seeped inside his bones long ago, freezing him in place near the fireplace, knees pulled to his chest.

Heat radiated from both the flames, and the Princess squeezing his forearm. From what he was seeing anyway. He couldn’t feel the nails leaving crescent marks upon his skin, he couldn’t feel anything but detachment. It was as if someone had carved out and emptied his insides, leaving an unfeeling porcelain doll for a shell.

"Look, I apologise for leaving without any notice but King Poseidon called for an impromptu family meal and you were sleeping so soundly—" She sighed, cutting herself off. "Are you just going to sulk?"

He focused on the faraway walls until his vision blurred, "Your Highness."

"Jewel." Frustration laced her tone.

"It's not like you can force me to smile." He mumbled.

"I could order you to!" Annabeth snapped, before her face flooded with red, embarrassed. Her voice broke, "Alabaster, please— I need to tell you and Percy something."

Their eyes met, his green boring into her greys. An acidic laugh bubbled past his lips, "As you wish, Princess!"

She flinched, hard. Good. "Al—"

"A hug?" He choked, hiding his face in his hands. She collapsed next to him, snaking one hand under his knees and the other stroking his back.

"Bad day?" His lover asked, nose buried in the crook of his neck. As if he had any good days.

Alabaster avoided the question, "Where's your husband?"

She hummed, and lifted him up. Gasping, Alabaster threw his arms around her as she carried him to the bedchambers. Perseus was sprawled on the bed, rubbing his temples. Wiggling out of her grasp, Alabaster took perch upon the pillows, his heels on Perseus's shins. An exhausted sound of greeting left the other man's throat. Annabeth laid next to them, her silver-blue skirts ruffled like waves at the hems.

"Well," Alabaster huffed, "How was the family get-together?"

"Could do without it." Perseus mumbled, "Father brought Nerites along."

He grimaced, patting his lover on the shoulder in sympathy. Just Poseidon himself was unbearable on its on. "Was Triton's lover there? She was nice enough."

"When did you two meet?" Annabeth furrowed her brows.

"Long story," Alabaster chuckled, "What did you have to tell?"

Annabeth’s face paled, her fingers pulling at the hangnails near her cuticles till it was red and bloody. Her eyes fell onto her wedding ring, her shoulders drawn towards her jaw. Her voice was barely above a whisper, "...I was trying to solve it out myself but— With Poseidon's expansion plans..."

"Annabeth." Perseus's eyes softened.

She took a whistling breath as the words started to pour out of her mouth. Alabaster watched the way her lips formed the sounds in horror, wishing the canons had rendered his ears deaf back during the war with each one. Wishing he was hearing wrong and that Empress Athena wasn't planning to force her daughter into a coup against her husband, that he wouldn't be ordered to—

Alabaster stared at his open hands, his brain already going through commonly found injurious herbs in Atlantean climate. Most of his calluses from hours of swordplay and making minute measurements on his alchemical equipments had faded, leaving only quill marks on the soft skin of his fingers.

Sickness churned inside his stomach.

Both Perseus and Annabeth had gotten up to sit from where they laid, the latter intent on burning a hole through the mattress with her gaze.

"I thought if we got divorced like the King wanted maybe, but then—" She trailed off.

Epirus would be open for taking. The only reason she hadn't been invaded even more by the Alliance was the Sthenian-Atlantis treaty, and if that fell through... Alabaster had himself lost his right to dignity and personhood a year ago, turned to a spectacle to be profited off. He wouldn't allow the same fate to grace his sister and people.

"Not an option, obviously." Perseus nodded, giving his elbow a comforting squeeze, "What if you did not give up your claim to the throne? She cannot forge your signature, can she?"

"Mother would disown me herself to pace things up." Annabeth slumped.

"You could always not go through with it afterwards."

"I can't!" Desperation and agony flavoured her voice, "You may not get it, Percy. But I cannot lose my crown. It's everything I've ever known and yearned for. How would I live then?"

"I am." Alabaster flattened, tears threatening the back of his eyes. "Living, that is."

Guilt clouded over her face, "Alabaster... You have us, though. That is something, is it not?"

It hurt, that he loved more than he hated them. That he would rather Annabeth did not care. Was easier to pretend that way.

"Continue." He said, head lowered, evening out his tone to the best he could muster. His heart panged.

"We need to find another solution." She sighed.

"Can't he poison your mom?" Perseus blurted out.

For a split second, Annabeth’s mouth curled in annoyance, "She has tastetesters for her tastetesters. Besides, I don't intend to get jewel beheaded."

"Poseidon?" Alabaster offered.

"My stepmother and Triton would know it's you immediately." Percy shook his head.

"Doesn't solve the situation with my mother either, on the contrary it would be playing into her hands." Annabeth’s hand wandered until it rested on Alabaster's knee.

They stared at eachother, defeated.

"A distraction." Perseus perked up, eyes alight, "If we cannot block their movements yet, we can stall to buy us time."

Alabaster knit his brows, rackling his mind for any ideas.

"I suppose we could visit Sthenias after our anniversary?" Annabeth chewed on her thumb, "Without any notice. That would put her in a flurry."

"Maybe?" He mumbled, "I don't think the confusion would last, however. Not with her."

A giggle erupted from Perseus's direction. He slapped his hand over his mouth, cheeks a deep crimson so suddenly.

"Percy?" She arched a brow.

"It's nothing— I—" He rubbed his nape, a sheepish smile on his face, "I just— A public display would make sufficient trouble for the courts, wouldn't it? And hasn't jewel earned an official position in court?"

Alabaster's heart jumped to his throat. Blood pumped faster through his veins as he gasped.

"Why, are you suggesting we make him our consort?" Her laughter chimed like bells.

"Would he not look nice with a ring?"

A whine almost slipped past his lips at the heat enveloping him. A ring. He glanced at his lovers's entwined hands, the matching metals gleaming on their fingers. Hunger sparked at the depths of his gut, his musings coloured by his awakening imagination.

Consort. He could explore the palace without the need of justifying his very existence, be actually introduced to people instead of fading into the background as mere eye candy. Know for certain that the ones he held so dear returned the intensity of his feelings, that they couldn't easily discard him, not without legal difficulty. Be a husband rather than the foreign pet.

They could hold a wedding too. A proper one, one that he could enjoy himself, unlike the couple's own wedding. They'd dance together, laugh and drink till the sun came up. He would be in an outfit he picked himself, their guests and his lovers finally acknowledging he was as handsome as he was pretty. Lou would be there, Ethan would be there, and there would be nothing King Poseidon could do about it—

Perseus's booming cackle brought him down from the haze of his daydreams. They were jesting around, making quips and murmuring about what exactly would suit him: the colour of the waistcoat that'd best compliment his complexion, the ring cut, how he would look just so good on their shared throne—

All without asking him even once.

Alabaster's insides froze. Right. He was forgetting himself, his lowly self. Neither the Empress nor the King would ever let him be anything but less than. Even if he became a consort that'd be it, that would be all he was. Forever a consort tied to their image, never a husband. Whatever ring he'd receive would only serve to imprison him as handcuffs or a collar would do.

Poseidon's threat from the day before rang hollow inside his chest.

"—aster."

He jerked in place, head snapping up to meet concerned gazes.

"You spaced out again." Annabeth’s nails bit into the skin of his thigh.

Perseus tilted his chin, "Have we gotten carried away, jewel?"

Damn them. Damn Venus. His body melted into their embrace as he struggled to take a breath.

"No—" he forced out, the words sitting heavy on his tongue, "No. I am—"

He schooled his expression, discreetly wiped at the corners of his eyes and pretended he did not long for the jewellery on their fingers.

"The Queen and the Venus priests would never endorse it." Alabaster said, like it was the only barricade before his desires, "Might I remind you you're both married, to eachother?"

They looked pointedly away from the other, blushing and hiding their hands.

His gaze drifted towards the ceiling. "It could have worked otherwise. Although, no fret, I do have an alternative in mind."

"Oh?" Annabeth scooted closer, grinning.

Alabaster flashed one of his own, "Perseus. You missed your mother, right?"

Perhaps he should have shook Poseidon's hand later on.

Alabaster tugged at the ends of his hair, the long strands almost covering his entire torso.

"Are you certain you do not want us here when Poseidon's servants come for you, jewel?" Annabeth asked.

Her hair was braided into a crown, adorned with bell-like silver flowers, matching her deep aquamarine dress. Cream and silver fabrics embellished the ruffled skirts, wrapping around her figure akin to jellyfishes. Iridescent jewellery draped down her neck in waves, accentuating the slender curve of it.

He gulped, nodding his head frantically as butterflies wriggled inside his stomach.

She planted a kiss on his cheek, taking her husband by the arm and left. Counting to ten, Alabaster leapt to his feet.

Any other time, he'd be moved that either of them even had the thought to accompany him in his unwanted pampering. Tonight, however, he had a mission.

He walked towards the doors, bolting it shut from the inside. He bit his tongue, laid on his stomach and started to rummage under the giant bed.

His fingers brushed against something soft.

Cheering and thanking the Epirusian maids inwardly, Alabaster pulled out the bag full of his clothing. He ran his hand over the smooth satin fabric, taking in the rich viridian hues. Excited, he slipped his arms through the crisp white shirt, starting to button it up. The marble stones felt cool under his touch, the gems on the cuffs rough on his fingertips. Pulling the tunic over his body, he fished for the hose inside the bag.

It was probably too warm for an outer tunic.

He tugged on the hems after tying up his boots, and fixed the high collar. It bound around his neck. Pleasure and satisfaction washed over him in waves, coiling around his very being. The fabric was tight and thick, covering from his jaw to wrists to ankles, thwarting the view of any lecherous gazes.

He could almost pretend he was back to his princely glory.

Pinpricks stabbed at the back of his nape, a heavy curtain choking him. Curling his lip in displeasure, Alabaster gathered his long hair in one fist. Of course. He couldn’t go in public with his hair loose, especially not with the length it was at.

It was shameful, for one. And a fire hazard, too.

He grumbled, raking his fingers through the knots. It'd take so much time to comb and powder it, not to mention pinning it up in a ballroom acceptable style. Time he didn't have if he wanted to leave this chambers before Poseidon's servants came.

He sighed and walked towards the vanity, picking up the brooch to pin his collar: A pearl encircled with an engraving of a dolphin, bound by olive branches. A replica of the Prince and the Princess's wedding rings. From the corners of his eyes, a wilted green carnation caught his attention.

How did Perseus manage to be so sweet and thoughtful yet so blind to his drowning at the same time?

Nevertheless, Alabaster pinned the flower under the brooch, in lieu of a cravat.

He would need to find someone to do up his hair still.

The Headmistress of the Kitchens had been yelling at him for about a few good minutes time by now.

"—loose hair where food is prepared! The nerve!" She huffed, her cheeks red from her breathless tirade, "And long too! Cover that up before setting foot into the kitchens."

Alabaster coughed into his fist, "Mrs Lana perhaps you have not recognised me—"

"I have recognised you fine enough, your Highness." The old woman lifted her chin, her pale brown eyes twinkling, "But even your dead mother, may Pluto care for her soul, would get the same answer. Now, what are you in need of? We're a bit busy."

He resisted the urge to laugh, lest he get chastised again, or be whacked on the head. Mrs Lana, the cook who had been loyal to their family since before his mother's reign, never changed a bit; not when her husband had died, not when her child had been drafted and certainly not when the palace was under occupation.

"Is Eudora there?" He asked instead.

Mrs Lana pursed her lips, pointing towards her back, "Go in from the other side, you'll get hair inside the meals."

Thanking her, Alabaster excused himself from under her feet. He had no desire to be at the end of a wooden spoon. Besides the kitchen heat would had damaged his fine fabrics anyway.

Eudora was in the attached pantry, stuffing a bunch of papers under flour sacks.

"What are you hiding?" He chuckled.

She jumped in place, head snapping back before she relaxed at the sight of him. "Little princeling?"

"I—" Alabaster swallowed, wringing his hands together, "Can you do my hair? Please?"

Her eyes shone with a gentle glow, the corners of them crinkling as her mouth parted. She ushered him into a nearby room, pushing him onto a stool she pulled.

"This might take a while." Eudora warned.

"I don't mind."

It wouldn't be the first time she had done his hair, though that had been also a part of her official duties back when he had been a child; either doing it herself or arranging another person to do it on her behalf. He remembered begging her to teach her how to braid little Louise's hair, so that they could occupy themselves when they ran off to one of the caves the mountains surrounding the Palace had held secret.

He melted into her touch, trying to take in the smell of her familiar perfume, nostalgia wrapping him in its embrace, enticing him into closing his eyes and just let himself be waited upon once more by the woman who raised him. Even when she was yanking at knots and twisting parts of hair, when she was binding it together into a low bun that almost resembled the shoulder length style he favoured while he had been still crowned, she was being careful to not let it hurt, unlike what he could say for Poseidon's servants.

"It would have been better if I was allowed to cut at least a little, but—"

"Thank you." Alabaster smiled, taking in his appearance at the hand mirror she held out.

He was already pushing the King's limits enough, and he had been very adamant on that Alabaster have near no say about what happened to his body, hair included.

Slowly, he took out the bronze rectangular pair of earrings Annabeth gifted him from the satchel attached to his leather belt, the emeralds glimmering with the light hitting them; and wore them on.

"Those are nice." Eudora said.

"Another gift from the Princess." He shrugged.

Eudora's voice dropped, a steely knife-sharp edge to it, "Do you not think that accepting gifts such as these will make Epirus look easily swayed into submission by a few pretty riches?"

Alabaster whipped his head, "Pardon."

As if nothing was amiss, a serene smile graced her face as she patted his cheek, "There you go, a handsome little princeling."

The urge to push further gnawed at his insides, however—

"Do you think I am handsome?" His lips wobbled, vision blurring at the corners.

"What else would I think?" She cocked her head, guiding him out the door, "Now, I believe you have a ball to attend, your Highness. Leave worrying about other matters to tomorrow, yes?"

A nod was the only thing he could answer with before getting lovingly pushed out of the room.

Colours and fabrics of all sorts swam inside the ballroom, swirling with perfect harmony as bright met dull and the tailored met patched. Chatter and music and tones of lutes accompanied the singer troupe's deep voices, easing the gathered crowd into eachother's presence. Merchants and their spouses ooh-ed and awed at the decor, far luxurious than anything they could even dream of. The family members of the Queensguard supported jewellery made of decorative chain mail, flaunting their status as the Queen's most trusteds.

Nobility were taking advantage of the lower class audience, using the opportunity to brag and feed their egos.

Crowded and bejewelled with delicacies piled on round tables, entertainers and courtiers vying for favour; the ballroom was as picturesque as the times he had been his mother's little shadow.

Alabaster entered the giant hall among some scholars, waving at some confused Lords who thought him one of their own.

He really did love bigger parties. People's gazes slipped over him, not sparing a look more than once. Made it easier to feel like he belonged as a peer, rather than the newest curiosity all Atlantian courtiers had to have an interest in.

This way he didn't get the urge to flay his own skin.

A couple tables ahead Lord Hermes was keeping a poor merchant woman wearing a fur cloak hostage with his talks of goats.

Alabaster rolled his eyes, his mind wandering towards the man's son. As far as he was aware Lord Castellan's offer still stood. He'd need to exhaust almost all the favours he gathered in payment, but if he wanted to he could send Luke a potent poison, especially since his lovers had given him full authority over their correspondence.

What he hesitated on was the Lord's part of the deal. There was nothing save for his honour to keep him bound to the deal, to keep him from throwing Alabaster to the wolves. In fact, it would be easy for him to claim the Epirusian Snake had tricked him, had sent him and his family venom disguised as gifts in an attempt to blackmail him, or whatever excuse the Lord's handsome brain could come up with. Not only would it absolve him of the patricide but also of the responsibility to make sure Alabaster would actually be seen off to Epirus like he promised.

And even if he intended to, how would he do it? Neither Atlantis or Sthenias would be willing to let him go, not to mention his lovers... A shiver nestled like a pit of dread beneath his gut. The only way he could think of was if—

If Lord Luke Castellan had bought him.

He clenched his fists, moving in tandem with the people as his breathing hitched just a pitch higher. Annabeth’s horrified eyes flashed in front of his vision, as the ghost of her nails bit into his arms, just like how she had reacted when one of the Atlantian Barons had gotten peeved at losing at cards over and over again to her and had attempted to goad Annabeth into wagering Alabaster for the next round.

A tap on his shoulder broke him out of thoughts.

A man with thick monocles and brown hair pulled into a ponytail at his nape sent him a nervous grin, one hand gripping the handle of his wooden cane tight, knuckles white. "My apologies, sir. But are you from Epirus?"

Alabaster raised an eyebrow, "To whom am I speaking?"

The man was dressed in a simple shirt and breeches, nothing specific to indicate his homeland. Clearly it wasn't Atlantis or Epirus, however.

"You may call me Arnold or Mr Miles, sir." He adjusted his monocles, "A mere scholar from Olympeum, really. If you could just indulge me for a moment..."

His interest piqued. Alabaster gestured for him to continue.

Arnold beamed harder, clasping the hand on his cane with the other, "Wonderful! May Jupiter bless your house, sir. Would you happen to know if there are any Epirusian generals currently in this palace?"

Alabaster's face tightened. "What is it to you?"

Etiquette be damned. Who would be brazen enough to ask that?

"Simple curiosity." Arnold shrugged, "I am going from court to court to gather anecdotes about the war. The more the merrier."

"Does your highers know you do this?"

He flushed, started to pat his pockets, "I have a seal of approval—"

Laughing, Alabaster cut him off, "No need, you got your wish. I was one."

He swore to gods that Arnold's eyes glowed, as he dragged Alabaster towards a table. His stomach flipped. Could he get Arnold to smile even larger?

He put a hand on the man's shoulder, "Moreover, I led the Prince's Armies."

Arnold tilted his head, brows furrowed, "Wouldn't that make you the Crown Prince?"

"Indeed." His teeth showed off in a stretched smile.

Arnold did not seem to share his sentiments. "That is very cruel of you."

"What?"

"If you are not who you claim you are then you, good sir, are taking advantage of the Queen's grief." The lenses of Arnold's monocles shone bright, obscuring his eyes, "If you are the Prince... The end of the war have proven you've only been appointed as a General due to your proximity to the Crown, and thus cannot help me in my endeavours."

Alabaster stared, jaw hung open. Flames struck in front of his eyes, anger bubbling beneath his skin. A scholar who had never seen a single trench, from a kingdom who had never seen to the end of the war, was lecturing him about his own military qualifications?

"Good day, sir." Mr Miles nodded, pushing past him to catch a guard.

Alabaster stuffed his fist into his mouth. And bit down. Hard. A frustrated cry tore through his throat, only to get muffled.

He needed a distraction. He needed a distraction or else he would end up doing something he'd regret.

Just to his luck, people were starting to fill the dance floor. He searched round the hall with his eyes, hooking onto a lone woman shuffling near the walls as she looked at the dancers, longing nestled in her gaze.

Alabaster paddled next to her, dusting off his clothing, "Hello, ma'am. Would you like to join me in a dance on this fine evening?"

Her face lit up.

Soon, him and the woman, whose name he learnt was Avice, were dancing together; his hand on her waist, hers around his neck, the other two intertwined together as they swirled along with the rhythm. The steps were a basic routine, a mix of both the classical ballroom dances and the traditional Epirus folk ones.

"Pray tell, what is beautiful lady like you doing without any company?" Perhaps he was laying it on thick, however— "I would imagine suitors would be fighting for your hand, no?"

She giggled, her dimples showing, "You flatter me, sir. I'm afraid am here on the behalf of my mom. She is a merchant at the docks."

That much was obvious from her clothing: unembroidered, starched and intentionally bleached white by the sun, to appear nicer than it was.

Honestly, Lou should had thanked him profusely for this, considering that she made no move to quell the flames of rebellion.

He pitched his voice higher, widening his eyes as concern dripped sickeningly sweet off his tongue, "And how are the situations there with—" He choked, and whispered, "With Sthenias's meddling?"

"Does nobility care for the poor other than tax reasons?" She tilted her head, before her face gained colour in mortification, "Pardon me, I—"

Alabaster flashed her a grin, tucking a stray strand of black hair behind her ear, "I do."

"That's kind of you." Being deemed kind and cruel in the same span of time was certainly an achievement. "But I doubt you could stop Atlantis's rogue privateers from turning to piracy and raiding the docks."

"I could petition the Queen for your family."

Relief shone in every inch of Avice's expression, "You would? Oh, thank you!"

Alabaster spun her around, promises falling off his lips as he bid her a nice evening. Mentally, he noted down to add to his sister's paperwork before the end of the day.

A man in a pale blue coat waved at him from afar, ruffled handkerchief falling onto his chest. Heart fluttering, Alabaster bounced over to Perseus.

"There you are, jewel!" He exclaimed.

Alabaster huffed as the Prince grabbed him by the arms to pull him into a hug. Perseus fixed the carnation on his collar, brushing a thumb along the satin tunic, "You look..."

"I look what your Highness?" He tensed.

"Breathtaking." Perseus's lips parted, his hands cupping Alabaster's jaw, "My wife has been searching for you."

If only they weren't in public, Alabaster would had melted into the Prince's touch, let the warmth wash over him, "You were not?"

"I found you, did I not," Perseus chuckled, grabbing him by the crook of his elbow and started to lead him presumably towards Annabeth’s side.

They passed by groups of snotty nobles, and a King Hephaestus who was awkwardly trying to dance with his wife. From her pinched mouth, she was not that impressed by the lackluster effort.

Feather jewellery caught his eye. Alabaster perked up, dragging his lover along as he walked towards the man, "Mr Nakamura!"

The man turned his head in their direction, "Your High— nesses."

Alabaster smiled, "I am glad you came, sir."

He nodded, face blank, and glanced at his lover, "Prince Perseus, I am assuming?"

"Indeed." Percy grasped onto him, leaning in to whisper, "Who is this?"

Alabaster whispered back, "Ethan's father."

His brows shot up as he straightened his spine, "It is wonderful to meet you, sir. I assure you, your son is in good—"

"I need to go." Mr Nakamura cut him off, clutching to his coat, "My apologies, your Highness."

Alabaster had the hunch he was the one being addressed as they watched the man dissappear amongst the people.

"Ah," Perseus winced, "I said something wrong again."

"Jewel!" Annabeth’s voice echoed behind their backs, "Jewel, if you do not apologise this second—"

"For what?" Alabaster mused, head on her husband's shoulder while she approached them.

"Worrying me." She puffed, "Thank you for finding our little runaway, Perce."

He bowed with flourish.

"Were you dancing with someone?" Annabeth gnawed on her bottom lip, her nose twitching.

"Jealous?" Alabaster placed his hands on her waist, moving his head closer towards hers.

"Pitying." Her fingers dug under his shoulder blades, a familiar pout on her face, "Don't lead some poor girl on for no reason."

"But I had a reason," he murmured, "Now when Avice will go back to her home she will tell her whole town of the nice nobleman who took her concerns seriously. Reinstall their faith in nobility. You of all people should know that performance is necessary for the survival of monarchy."

"Underhanded." Affection laced her words, "Venomous thing you are, aren't you? I approve. Just consult beforehand with me next time."

"You are jealous!" Alabaster cackled.

Annabeth scoffed, red creeping till her hairline, and yanked him towards the dance floor.

She was better at this compared to the previous night's dances. He would let her, Alabaster realised, let her dance him to death no matter how good she was, let her lead him to a waltz lasting until the end of their lifespans. A dance where it was only her and him and Perseus, barren of any woes, careless regarding everything except for eachother. The torches at the hall could burn out, they'd still be there, losing themselves in eachother's company as days chased nights and nights chased days. The embers could fill their lungs, their bodies could start to ignite.

Alabaster would provide the kindling himself if it meant that their ashes would be mingled at their end.

The crescendo of the orchestra swooped into a drastic fall, the beats softening as the piece came to end.

Reluctance showed its head in the way Annabeth’s nails drew blood under his clothes, unable to let him go.

Unfortunately for her, the man with a giant ruff around his neck had walked just past them.

Alabaster waved her off with a hastily placed kiss, and beelined towards the Chancellor's direction.

Only for his breath to be knocked out of his lungs.

King Poseidon glared down at him, winding his arm tighter around Alabaster, pressing him flush against his chest. His eyes swirled like whirlpools, his hand circling his neck.

Alabaster's heart skipped a beat as the King's thumb caressed along his jaw, dread ensnaring his whole being.

Another man, who had probably been conversing with him, stared at them, clutching to his top hat. Underworld diplomat, then.

"And what exactly are you wearing?" Poseidon's voice was deceptively gentle while he squeezed Alabaster's side.

"The Prince likes it—" Panicked words poured out of his mouth before he could properly think, imaginary bugs crawling under his skin, right where Poseidon made contact, "He— he bought one for himself too— A blue one."

He gasped, stopping himself lest he look more foolish, and raised his chin.

"I did see that." Poseidon drawled, hesitantly nodding, "Do not let this happen again."

Alabaster was all too happy to shake his head and agree, anything to get out of the King's grasp. He wasn't let go, however.

Poseidon's hand around his neck wandered till it rested on his face, his thumb and index finger forcing his lips to curl into a smile, baring his teeth.

Alabaster sent pleading looks towards the diplomat, uncomfortably aware of the bright hot pain threatening to spill tears behind his eyes.

The man cleared his throat, "Can we get back to business, your Majesty?"

"Oh you dead folk have no sense of humour." Poseidon shoved Alabaster away, returning to his conversation as if he hadn't just manhandled and showed off his favourite doll.

The floor shifted beneath his feet.

Alabaster retched, his footsteps echoing across the ballroom walls as he ran out of the hall.

Bile rose up his throat, his stomach clenching on itself. His flesh screamed, his lungs ceasing their function. His vision spun.

Pain vibrated throughout his whole body as his knees hit the ground with a harsh crack.

He collapsed upon the plush carpet, gasping and wheezing. His chest burned.

He couldn’t breathe.

He pounded the floor, hiccuping for air. His eyes darkened, warmth trailing down his cheeks. His nose prickling, his mouth open in desperation.

He couldn’t breathe.

Tightness constricted his torso.

Black spots swam in front of his sight.

The world tilted upside down, and down, and down—

"I found him!"

Delicate hands hauled him up to his feet. Alabaster leaned on the wall, turning his head slightly to meet Prince Triton's annoyed gaze, Annabeth and Perseus rushing in after him. They slammed into him, wrapping their arms round and pulling Alabaster into their embrace.

Like coal to the freezing, the flowery scent of their shared perfume settled inside his lungs, replacing air. He inhaled sharply, burying his nose between them.

"Thank you, Triton." Perseus exhaled, clinging onto Alabaster.

"Just make sure he stops howling at night." Triton sneered, pinching the bridge of his nose, "I do not know what you do with him and frankly, I have no intentions to find out. However, I would rather my sleep be not interrupted. By the gods, it was bad enough in Atlantis..."

With that he wandered off, muttering and complaining under his breath about inconsiderate younger brothers.

Alabaster took a step back, dabbing at his eyes with a handkerchief Annabeth offered. "I am fine."

His lovers shared a glance, disbelief written on their faces. He forced a grin, holding his shaking hands behind his back, "Seriously. I am."

"What did my father say?" Perseus insisted. His eyes darkened, the calm sea greens of his irises turning into the violent dark waves of the sea that drowned countless sailors, "Tell me, so I can walk up to him and—"

"And what?" Alabaster cocked his head, faux naivety blooming inside his mouth, "Since when have you done anything about him?"

After all, there had been numerous opportunities for Perseus to object to his father's treatment.

"Al—"

"You are a coward, Perseus Jackson."

Guilt subdued the atmosphere, letting silence conquer it.

"Let's go." He clapped his hands, interweaving arms with his squirming lovers's.

The pleasant buzzing of the crowd had vanished, growing until it was a deafening cloud of chatter and gossip and thinly veiled insults back in the ballroom. The air was humid, getting warmer and warmer by each person they brushed elbows with. The flower arrangements did nothing to help clear out the staleness.

People trickled towards the sidelines, preparing to feast on the small treats as they awaited for the Queen's speech to start.

Which was when Lou strided past them.

"Oh so not even wishing a nice evening." He mumbled to himself.

Lou chose that moment to whirl around, squinting her eyes at them.

"Your Majesty." They greeted in unison, Alabaster gritting his teeth while doing so.

"How funny," she mused, glancing him up and down, "I remember someone telling me my brother has died. Am I seeing ghosts?"

Alabaster ignored the stares from his lovers, clenching his fists and digging his nails into the soft flesh of their elbows.

He would not give her the satisfaction of getting a rise out of him.

Perseus coughed, "I owe my life to you, your Majesty. My sincere thanks for offering us the cure when—"

"I didn't do it for you." Lou sniped, crossing her arms, "Now I'm wondering if I should have done that at all."

Never mind.

"Pirates are attacking your citizens." Alabaster hmphed, rolling his eyes pointedly, "Were you unaware or unwilling to do your duty?"

"I will not take advice from foreigners about my kingdom, not when I have a speech to make." Lou's eyes flashed, her canines peeking through, "Enjoy your night, Princess Annabeth."

She pushed at his chest, stomping away.

Alabaster snorted, frustration puffing out of his nose, "I don't know where she got that attitude from."

"You." Annabeth smiled, pecking his cheek.

Unfortunately, she was right.

He wished he could sneak a goblet of wine, it would have helped blur his mind until all he could feel was a sense of numb giddiness.

Alas, Perseus was there. And he needed to keep a clear head if he wanted to bargain with the Chancellor.

Speaking of...

"Excuse me." Alabaster said, dashing across the room.

Either Chancellor Nerites had naturally wide shoulders or he was compensating for being shorter than the King's eldest child, resorting to padding under his dark wine coloured jacket, silver and blue treading giving off the appearance of foaming waves. Alabaster would go with the latter option, considering how the man was hiding his greying hair with dark powder.

Being the King's favourite meant being the eye catcher in court, apparently. It was impossible to miss Nerites in a crowd, the old fashioned, pearly white, folded ruff round his neck separating him from the rest. Though, even Queen Amphitrite's court dress requirements must had been at least a century old.

Perhaps Alabaster should had asked Perseus if his mother dressed outdated compared to the rest of her village, just to confirm if Poseidon had an affinity for a particular way of dressing on his lovers.

"Well, hello there, Epirus." Nerites arched an eyebrow, tipping his wine glass slightly.

"Chancellor." Alabaster clasped his hands behind him, keeping his tone light. No matter how much it filled him with agony.

He really had been too harsh on Chancellor Claymore as a young prince. At least the man had been actually semi-capable at his job, on the rare moments when he had been sober that is. And he had gotten the position for his intellect.

Unlike Nerites, who had only gotten promoted from a measly Lord to a Chancellor due to holding the King's affections captive, and racing their horses together, or whatever it was they do.

It would be less of a problem if the Chancellor hadn't took the chance to elevate the positions and social standings of his sisters too.

"Want some?" The man laughed to himself, holding his goblet out.

Hunger growled inside his stomach, the underside of his tongue dry and craving for the sweetness of grapes.

"I will not lap at your glass like a dog." Alabaster sneered, before changing his face to a blank mask, "I wanted to talk."

Nerites sighed, voice pained, "I cannot fix your accent. You really butcher the word 'Atlantis'."

He flushed, boiling with anger inside.

Still, he forced out, "I have delivered you your desired recipe, Chancellor. It is time for your repayment."

Nerites stroked his goatee, "A favour... What is it?"

He knew better than to not follow through the payment, lest Alabaster show the letters the Chancellor sent to Queen Amphitrite.

On top of the dais Lou was addressing the hall, words of peace and unity flowing in and out of his ears.

"The Prince and the Princess have different plans for their anniversary than the King's." Nerites scowled at Percy’s mention, "I will need you to distract him."

"Ask for something else, snake." He curled his lip, "I will not get in my King's bad graces."

My King. Alabaster gagged internally. Lou's voice rose, Palas on her right.

"Then you will put me in trouble instead." Alabaster changed strategy, attempting to appeal to any heart the Chancellor might have.

Nerites peered him down, a shadow passing over his eyes, "A word of advice?"

He jolted, expectantly looking at the man.

With a grin slashing from one ear to the other, Nerites spoke, smarmy and arrogant, "Pray to Venus."

His mouth open, Alabaster stared after the leaving man. He yanked at Nerites's arm, snarling, "Do you believe yourself that irreplaceable? Because you are not. Remember; you've been Chancellor longer than Perseus has been alive."

Tension deepened the age lines carved onto Nerites's face.

"And Tyson, too." Alabaster continued, jeering, "Does it hurt? That your loyalty is disregarded in favour of Sally Blofis? The King has ignored you for a long time, hasn't he? That's why you needed my services, that sickness trick you pulled."

"And you want me to worsen that?" Nerites snarled.

"On the contrary," Alabaster dusted off his tunic, "This will benefit you too."

The Chancellor flipped a hand in air.

He took it as a sign to go on, "Perhaps you could gift the King and the Queen a vacation at the same time as his heir. Tell them you will be handling the court for the duration. A courtesy to your lover."

"You want me to arrange a date for Poseidon and his wife?" Nerites snorted, "Let it be known I will never order anything from you, Epirus, not anymore."

"Then so be it." He smiled and shook hands with the Chancellor.

One day, he would personally see to it that Nerites got executed. One day.

By the time Alabaster was walking back and wading through the crowd to find his lovers, his sister was almost at the end of her speech.

Upon the dais Queen Lou Ellen raised a toast, "To peace! To Epirus! To the Allia—"

A loud, booming sound pierced through his ears.

Wretched screams followed it soon after.

Alabaster snapped his head towards the shrill cries. Close to the dais, King Poseidon was collapsed on his knees, clutching his right shoulder and face contorted in pain. Blood was trickling between his fingers.

Across him, Mr Nakamura stood still, legs planted wide and arm raised, his Geese Killer in hand, aimed at the King. Smoke rose from the barrel.

"That," he rasped, head held up high, "Was for my son."

"Get him!" Someone shouted an order.

Numb and frozen, Alabaster watched as the guards descended upon his lieutenant's father, despite the man wrestling and biting at metal limbs while they tried to arrest him. One flying elbow hit a torch on the wall, sending it tumbling down.

Right onto the skirts of a drape.

Flames consumed the ballroom, and everyone trapped inside.

Chapter Text

For the first time, Alabaster found himself wishing he were at Atlantis's ballrooms rather than his home's.

The limestone and marble tiles would certainly fare better against the rising flames than the wooden beams and oaken arches circling the room above.

Garlands smouldered.

The fire spread across the walls and tables.

People stepped over one another.

Compared to the stampede of the fleeing guests, the fight at the tavern had been a mere skirmish, just a slightly heated pleasant chat.

Elbows jabbed at his sides, his legs kneed at every place. Drifting within the crowd like a log in a river, Alabaster was dragged along with the panicked guests.

The nearest doors were a few steps away, with a gulp, his eyes wandered for any familiar face.

The sparks leapt from one curtain to another, from this beam to that, setting the entire ballroom ablaze.

A burning pole cracked, creaked and fell right onto the middle of the dance floor, bringing down a chandelier with it. Crystals and glass bursted into tiny pieces with a loud crash, lit candles spilling out.

Screams rang inside his ears.

A flurry of fabric clouded his vision as he was pushed aside in people's haste to get away. The world tilted. A gasp punched itself out of Alabaster's chest as he made contact with the floor, bruises already forming at his ribs no doubt.

Smoke filled his lungs.

The same dark, thick smoke he would see rise on the horizon before the messenger from the front lines had arrived, carrying the news of another loss.

Terror surged throughout his veins. He rolled underneath the stomping heels and boots, stray shards snagging his tunic and biting into his palms. Alabaster breathed heavy, holding onto the throne's legs as he stood up. Up from the dais, he had a clear view of the crowd, flocking to the doors in a frenzy. Or he would have, if it weren't obscured by the orange heat, the bright flames and smoke curling towards the ceiling.

His heart drummed, beating up his ribcage from the inside by its violent pumping. His blood ran cold, numbing his limbs where they should had leapt to action.

He was the only person on the dais.

His throat clogged.

"Lou!" Alabaster screamed.

Where was his sister?

A purple veil peaked from a group of red headed Chalceian ladies, "Alabaster!"

"Lou!"

He jumped down the dais, forgoing the stairs.

"Al!"

He waded through the crowd, yanking people to the sides while shouting for his sister till his voice sputtered out in hoarse whispers, "Louise!"

"Here!"

Alabaster ran towards the voice. A Lady let out profanities the court normally would be horrified over as she struggled to take off her outer skirt, the pale fabric blackening to ash, fires consuming the silk.

He grabbed a half-full pitcher from nearby, upending it over her dress. Looking at the doused flames, the Lady nodded in gratitude, before grabbing the skirts in her arms and following the majority.

A blur of violet flashed across his sight.

Alabaster drew his sister in, pressing her against his chest as she gasped. Their arms curled around eachother, his nose buried in her hair. "Izzy..."

"Let's get out of here," She lifted her head, eyes shining wet. Her crown fell lopsided over her forehead.

He gently pushed it to its proper place with his thumb, brushing his lips on the top of her head for a brief second, "Let's."

Clutching to the other, they walked towards the nearest doors, nearly running. Lou shouldered open the doors, tugging him close and out when Alabaster froze in place.

"Alabaster..." Lou breathed out, realisation dawning in as her fingers tightened their grip on him.

He pushed her to the corridor, spinning on his heel to turn around and dive right back into the hungry, growing fire. "Annabeth!"

"Let them burn!" His sister cried out after him.

His lungs burnt. Dry heat beat his face up while he ran, eyes watering. The warmth reached out to him, the fiery fingers caressing along his body, threatening to swallow him up.

His lover had her skirts torn up and slashed throughout, a dagger in her hand. With her other one, she kept a wet shawl, or perhaps a remnant of her skirts, pressed over her nose and mouth. Steely greys met his green, relief nestled deep within the gaze. Boots clacking on the floor as she threw herself to him.

"Percy is—"

"Where is—"

Alabaster bursted into a fit of coughing, the cinders biting underneath his tongue. He grabbed her wrist, eyes darting between the destruction and the guests. Nausea formed deep inside his gut, his empty stomach clenching on itself.

Annabeth inhaled sharply, rushing towards the other side of the room. "That husband of mine—"

He agreed with the frustrated tone, doublely so as 'that lover of mine' did not roll off the tongue as smoothly.

Perseus had discarded his long coat, and clearly soaked it with dozens of pitchers worth of water from the empty ewers at his feet. Waving it like a flag and slamming the fabric at the base of crackling stray flares, he was guiding others out of the ballroom, even as he was doubled over and choking, swaying dangerously close to the fires.

That husband of Annabeth’s indeed.

It was a wonder people even bothered to hire assassins against the Crown Prince, when Perseus was greatly capable of putting his own life in danger.

They sprinted towards their lover, and past him, Alabaster yanking him by the collar as they bounded for the doors. Perseus yelped and dropped his coat. The fabric went up in flames, the towering mass of angry white blaze and the heat rolling off in oppressing waves blocking their exit.

"Left," Perseus rasped, swiping a hand over his soot stained face.

The dishevelled appearance really did suit him better than the tailored court outfits. Maybe if they survived this, he could ask Perseus for a hunting trip once again...

Did he want to survive this?

A lodge stuck at the base of his throat. The reds and oranges were twirling, akin to a waltz, the suffocating warmth balming on his skin.

He could feel any semblance of urgency and panic vaporising off of his body with the sweat. His steps halted, his heels dragged on the ground.

They wouldn't have to worry about their political crises if they weren't around for it.

Would it be so bad to close their eyes and let the flames do the rest..?

"Al—" One of them hissed, "Come on."

His chin fell to his chest, his legs pinned in place with the weight. Arms snaked under his, hands on his back as he was hoisted up.

"Just a few steps," Annabeth murmured.

The ballroom was drowned in black. The smoke descended on the floor, matching the darkness of the night outside. Sleep embraced him, coaxing him into closing his eyes.

He couldn’t breathe.

He dropped to his knees, grasping and clawing at his throat. Coughs lined up inside, only serving to block his access to air further. From the corners of his eyes, he saw Perseus slumped over Annabeth’s back, wheezing desperately.

"I love you." Alabaster mouthed, head lolled onto the cool floor, eyelashes fluttered shut.

Somehow, Annabeth had managed to get them both out.

He sighed, tucked under his lovers's arms, legs tangled with Perseus's and head resting on her chest as they cuddled on a bed in the sick room. The room and the neighbouring ones were filled with survivors, a servant going through each one to take note whether anyone was missing or not. Peasants and nobility alike were huddled together, though the latter carefully keeping themselves separate from the former. Healers buzzed from one person to another.

In the corner, Edith was fussing over King Poseidon, Chancellor Nerites hovering near.

"Gods," Annabeth huffed, hands tangled in his hair, "For a moment there I was—"

She cut herself off. It wouldn't do good to admit weaknesses in front of courtiers, even if it was being burnt to death.

Instead, she nuzzled her husband's cheek, "You, Perseus, are going to give me early greys. You care too much."

He weakly chuckled. "You can join me. The greys are barely noticeably, promise."

Hushed sneers filled the silence. Poseidon had grabbed Nerites by the lace under his ruff with his uninjured arm, hissing, spit escaping past his teeth. Although the Chancellor had a lazy grin on his face and a hand cupping the King's jaw, his chin was twitching, his eyes darting towards everything but Poseidon's face.

Alabaster pointedly averted his gaze.

As long as Nerites repaid him.

He gingerly prodded at the tender skin of his hands, the blisters screaming in protest under his touch.

Annabeth ran her thumb along the slope of his neck and shoulder, nails scratching his scalp, "Jewel."

He hummed.

"I—" She gulped, "I was going to—"

"Scheme?" He tried to tease, before frowning, voice dropping at the end of his question. Hopefully whatever plot she had in mind wouldn't be so daunting. The thumb pressed against his skin was as warm as the room they had escaped an hour prior.

Annabeth reached for the water on the bedside table, shaking her head after taking a sip, "I was going to gift you something, but now I am not so sure."

Alabaster snorted. He didn't spoil Lapis this much. And he had given the entirety of the chambers he was assigned to before their arrangement to the dog, despite the servants's daily complaints. "Another pair of earrings, your Highness? Or a collar, perhaps?"

Eudora's disappointed eyes flashed before his vision.

At least his dog did not have the sentience to realise she was a pet.

Annabeth flinched, brows knit in concern, "I grabbed this a few days back, at our outing. Thought you might have wanted to pass it on to your... friend."

A single goose feather laid out inside her palm: big, rich brown and definitely stolen from Mr Nakamura.

Gods. Ethan had no idea that the father he adored was condemned to the life of a traitor, in his name no less.

"Ann—" He stuttered, slipping the feather inside his satchel, "I can see him?"

"The King is here." She squeezed his shoulders, both warning and avoiding answering him.

He mutely nodded, a giddy grin growing on his face. He whirled round, planting a kiss on her cheeks and mouth, before tugging Perseus closer to peck him on the lips, too. The man smirked, a hand at his nape to keep Alabaster in place, while Annabeth dug her nails into his thigh.

Alabaster's heart skipped a few beats, begging to be torn out of its cage and bleed inside the hands of the couple.

An incoherent sound between a choke and a cackle of disbelief drew his attention instead. A nobleman near the windows was getting his arm wrapped, jogging Alabaster's memory vaguely as one of his old Lords-in-waiting.

He had offered the dresses he hadn't thrown into the well to the man's little sister, hadn't he? It had been one of the reasons why his mother had granted the man his title as one of Alabaster's attendants. Not only was he from a noble family so minor that Alabaster couldn’t remember their House's name, but also the family's youngest supposed son had gone abroad for his studies, leaving his rooms to be filled by a cousin, who had never been talked of before, only days later.

Of course Alabaster had given her the dresses he hadn't rid of.

Sometimes he envied the common folk for their lack of need for these charades, however entertaining planning his own funeral had had been.

A look of horror crossed the man's face as he turned his head away from Alabaster's direction.

Alabaster made a noise reminiscent of a confused cat.

His lovers tilted their heads in the man's direction simultaneously, just as the sick room's doors bursted open. A servant met his gaze, silently motioning for him to follow them with their head, as they carried a wooden box in their hands.

He carefully detangled himself from the couple, walking out of the room under King Poseidon's hateful glare.

Two guards flanked his sister's sides, Lou standing tall and proud between them with her lips pursed, a stone cold look to her face. Unharmed. And unburnt.

She rolled her shoulders, crown glinting atop her head, "Mr Jackson."

Ouch.

"You are alright." He gritted out, ignoring, or attempting to ignore, her words.

Was the quirk of her lips merely his imagination? "So are you. Now, are you going to play nice or continue undermining my rule?"

Alabaster exhaled through his nose, crossing his arms as he shook his head in agreement.

"Good." Lou snapped her fingers. The servant took a few steps forwards, opening the lid of the box with two fingers.

They might as well had punched him in the gut.

Breathless, he grasped the gleaming gold, hands almost dropping the precious metal due to their trembling. The circlet was studded with emeralds, garnets, peridots and amethysts; hues of green and purple reflecting back on his skin. The gemstones were surrounded by engravings of his ancestor's names, all the regnant monarches that held the Throne of Epirus before.

His crown.

"You kept it." His eyes flickered up to his sister's.

"Was I not supposed to?" Lou's hands grabbed his own, taking the circlet. She rose on her toes, placing it on his head, crowning him.

Alabaster gasped, the familiar weight as comforting as his mother's guiding hands on his back. "Your Majesty—"

"I think we have a traitor to interrogate, o' brother of mine." Queen Lou Ellen offered him her arm, a mischievous smirk playing across her cheeks.

"It's such a shame. I liked this tunic." Alabaster dusted off the blackened fabric, pieces of ash and soot falling to the stone floors leading to the dungeons.

Rough cut rocks from the mountains framed the labyrinthine corridors, the torches getting sparser and sparser. Down under the palace, the air was thin to the point anyone not used to it would be rendered wheezing and helpless for the mercy of breath. The damp walls brushed against their arms, water trickling down from the ceiling, the tip tap-ing accompanying their footsteps.

"You don't say." His sister murmured, "Well, there he is: The culprit."

Moss grew where the torches started to end. A set of stairs led down to the cells, dropping to a void of pitch black darkness.

Alabaster took the first step, the wood creaking under his weight as he held out his hand for Lou to grasp. She sent him a grateful smile.

His sister had always been afraid of the steepness of the dungeons's stairs.

With their chain mails clinking and clanging, the guards followed behind them till they reached the double bolted heavy iron door.

Lou gave his fingers a squeeze as the guards opened the door for them. Rows and rows of metal bars were laid out in front of them, rust plaguing the most.

Dread settled deep beneath his gut, tied up inside his throat like a lump.

Blood rushed inside his veins, scouting for the tell-tale signs of Atlantian dungeons, for the salty air that breezed in from cracks, for the sounds of mice scattering; for the metal clamped around his wrists and dragging him closer to the floors, closer to cowering as the King and the Empress loomed over him while their guards subdued and drugged him like a wild animal, so that he could be stripped—

Louise's hands grasped his bicep.

They had arrived.

Mr Nakamura was crumpled on the stone with his knees pulled to his chest, head hiding inside his arms as his hair fell unruly over his face. His outer layers were gone, leaving him in a wrinkled shirt and a simple hose. The metal bars pressed against his back, his spine visibly jutted out. A threadbare mess of linen was heaped on a corner, an empty bucket on the opposite one.

More than King Poseidon had supplied him, a voice sneered inside his brain.

"Mr Nakamura." Queen Lou Ellen's voice rang clear, cutting the silence, and echoed off of the walls.

Alabaster had half expected him to flinch.

The man lifted his head, eyes alight akin to coals burning from within. "Your Majesty."

"You have committed treason." She said, "You do know the punishment for treachery, don't you?"

"I did no such thing." Mr Nakamura hoarsed, clearing his throat, eyes sunken in, "Everything I did was what a grieving man would do. Should do."

Alabaster squirmed, feeling the full force of the man's gaze.

"Are you serious?" He cackled, wiping his hands with the hems of his tunic, "You, attacked a foreign king who was here for diplomatic reasons while tensions of war still persist. This could be taken as an act of war. My sister ought to chop both your hands off before hanging you, and leaving your corpse to be feast on by maggots."

"Everything I did." Mr Nakamura repeated, "I am grieving for my family, and I am grieving for my home. Make no mistake, your Highness, I love my country. I would never betray her."

"Then why harm?" The Queen raised her chin, "Speak, while I am willing to make your death a merciful one."

"Because someone needed to." His head dropped to his chest, shoulders rattling, "Your people are starving and exploited, and if no one will send a message then I will. If it takes a few empty thrones for my neighbours to be safe, so be it."

A chill went down his spine as he met his sister's eyes, the same unnerved look on her face.

"We are Epirus." He pressed on, hand finding Lou's, "To go against the Crown is to go against her."

"I see." The man whispered. "I shall pray for her forgiveness."

"A priest of Pluto can be arranged to see you before your public execution." Lou tilted her head at him, gesturing towards the door they had came from. "Good night, Mr. It will be your last one."

Alabaster nodded, taking her arm while they started their way towards back. A low, deep chuckling vibrated behind them.

The goosebumps were his only warning before the dungeons combusted.

Bright white flooded his vision.

Pain seared his flesh.

Smell of rotten eggs and sulfur invaded his nostrils.

Once he came to, both him and his sister were sprawled on the ground.

Through the fuzziness of his eyesight, a figure peered down at them, and walked towards the door leading to the outside world, "That was for my son. This is for my wife."

Groaning, Alabaster pushed himself to his knees, holding his head. The bars of Mr Nakamura's cell were destroyed, the cell itself being empty. Black powder sizzled between the crannies of the stones. An used match was thrown near the metals.

"Which one of you have failed to search—" Alabaster turned around with fury.

Only to sputter into silence.

The guards were gone too.

"Told you I did not trust them." His sister picked herself up, swaying on her feet.

"You need to find them. Soon." Alabaster snapped, inhaling deeply.

"Don't worry, Mr Nakamura will be back." Sweat ran down her brow, her lips twitching. Her whole arm trembled as she offered a hand, "Come."

"How can you be so sure that he has not fled to Nemesis's side, wherever she might be?" Alabaster buckled his boots, seated on his sister's divan.

Lou gnawed on her cheek, rummaging through her drawers, "Because I have these."

He caught the two objects she threw at his direction: Mr Nakamura's geese killer, the very object he shot at Poseidon with, and more importantly the feathered arm brace left from Nemesis.

"He cannot easily make another one of his weapon, not without resources. And if nothing else, he would want to get back the only reminder he has of his wife, no?"

"Let's hope you're right." He set the objects down, and got up, "And hope Atlantis won't wage war."

"At least we found who stole King Hephaestus's stuff." She grumbled, "Are you going to tell Ethan?"

Alabaster paused. As much as he admired his sweet dear Ethan's loyalty, he was not foolish enough to neglect his fealty to his parents.

"No." He said, fingers itching to take out the goose feather inside his satchel, "I need every ally I can get."

Even if it meant keeping him in ignorance.

"If he gets caught, will you..." Alabaster trailed off.

"Of course not." Lou's gaze softened, her face crestfallen, "I can't actually execute him."

He frowned, and opened his mouth to retort when Lou continued, "He clearly is talented. It would be a waste to not put him to use, especially when I'm so sorely lacking with my military."

Ah.

Alabaster raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms as an invitation for her to go on.

"This thing," she pointed at it, "Is faster and heavier than any weighted bow I know. If the Alliance knew we were the only ones to be privy to its secrets then... It might actually put us in an equal seat on the diplomacy table."

No doubt the other kingdoms, Chalceus on the lead, would be frothing at the mouth to get to Mr Nakamura if they were aware of the fugitive's escape.

In a few hours time, Captain Nemesis's husband had made himself a very valuable man indeed.

And there were a lot of ways to force a man into servitude: Be it through threats, favours... or love.

Alabaster would know.

"How are you going to support him?" He scoffed, "Neither your personal one nor the Crown's purse have the funds."

A knocking on the doors interrupted them as if on cue.

A head of blonde curls peeked in, before Prince Wilhelm entered. "Lou?"

Blood jumped to Alabaster's brain, his vision going red. How dared he call his sister by her given name—

"Will." Leaving him dumbfounded, she smiled, no, beamed, "Right on time. Are you still leaving for the Underworld?"

The boy nodded.

Alabaster squinted his eyes as she gingerly took a sealed envelope from her desk, moved towards Wilhelm and held his hands, batting her lashes, "Would you mind delivering this letter to Princess Hazel?"

"It would be my honour and delight!" Wilhelm exclaimed, and kissed her signet ring.

Lou ran a hand over the side of his face, grabbed a pair of scissors and cut a lock of her curls, pressing the hair into Wilhelm's palm, "Thank you, Will. I appreciate it."

He took a bow, and bounced on his way out, a lightness to his steps and a flush to his cheeks.

Alabaster did not stop growling until he was out of the room, "What was that?"

"Oh, you have no place to talk!" She sniped, schooling her expression, "Funds and resources, brother. The Underworld is the biggest coal supplier around this part of the world."

"Pay off your debts, first. The di Angelos would never give anything for free."

"Which is why I am selling your old stuff." Queen Lou Ellen inspected her nails, "I am sure Prince Nico would just be glad to get his hands on the riches of your rooms."

Alabaster paled, his stomach plummeting.

"Or you can ask your lovers to buy them for you." Her voice pitched higher, brows arched, "Since they care so much. Maybe if you beg and plead nicely they can be convinced to spoil you with the things that should have already been yours."

He clapped, once, twice, a slow dramatic symphony that reverberated across her chambers. "Well played, truly well played."

Lou cackled, throwing her head back and shoulders shaking. "Don't worry, Prince Nico can have Wilhelm too. I don't intend on marrying yet."

Alabaster shook his head, snorting, "He will eat that boy alive."

She sent him a knowing smirk, shrugging. Her face fell, her hands wringing together, "I hope cozying up to them will not be a mistake."

"You will figure it out." He reassured her.

Her eyes bored into his, shining wet at her tearlines, "That was not the tune you were playing the whole week."

Alabaster cringed, "Lou—"

"Why can't you be just nice to me?" His sister hiccuped, "Why are you never nice to me?!"

"Look, forget what I said, alright? Your brother is not the smartest sometimes—"

"Evidently!" A dry, gut wrenching, sob tore out of her throat, "I want my brother, why can't you be my brother—"

Alabaster yanked her by the shoulders, the two of them crumbling onto the floor in a hug. Her fists pounded against his chest, "Why are you always my Prince when I need you?"

He gasped, wheezing, fingers tangled in her curls, feverish apologies spilling out of his lips. His mind and heart screamed, sinking down and down and down till both of them were wallowing on the carpet.

His eyes lingered on a ruined painting, "...you slashed my portrait?"

"You deserved it." Lou sniffled, tucked under his arm. She was so small like this, curled on the floor and against his side.

How could he ever wanted to hurt her?

Exhaustion seeped inside his bones. He was so done with the masks, the pretences; of the perfect Prince, of the dutiful son and caring brother, of the fearless General, of the demure warspoil, of the grateful concubine...

But who was he if not his ceaseless pretending?

"Yeah..." He closed his eyes, "I'll miss you. I didn't even get to visit mother's grave."

"The next time. We will go together." His sister's voice wavered, "Promise?"

"I promise."

He didn't mention how this might had been the last time he ever set foot on Epirus.

In hindsight, they had probably cleaned up well, and managed to hid the signs of any tears decently, if the Alliance's reactions were to be considered.

His presence behind his Queen with a fresh tunic and cape like the ones he had as a prince probably helped. The crown atop his head, too.

Alabaster smirked, hands folded at his back, standing while his sister sat on her throne.

The allied monarches lined in a half moon in the throne room, tension resting heavy on everyone's shoulders. King Hephaestus and Queen Aphrodite were clutching to eachother's arms, apprehension lining Lord Hermes's face. Worry, and interestingly enough, approval lit inside Queen Lady Artemis's eyes. Empress Athena stared them down with a calculating gaze, the only indicator of her nervousness being her iron tight grip on Annabeth’s shoulder. King Poseidon was spouting fire with his glare.

"You all have my sincerest apologies for tonight," Queen Lou Ellen started.

"Your Majesty let me—" Palas butted in from where she leaned against the wall on the opposite side of the throne.

Gale let out a series of barks, effectively cutting her off.

Lou flashed a gleeful smile, "As I was saying, be assured that the incident will be dealt with. It was a one-off action and the man responsible will be brought to justice."

"Is he in custody then?" Poseidon spat, one arm bandaged and held bent at his torso with a strip of cloth tied round his neck.

"Yes." His sister lounged on her throne.

"And the weapon?" Hephaestus flapped his hands around, hitting his toes together.

"Tragically lost in the fire." She rested her chin on her palm, "Trust me, your Majesty, you will be the first person I notify when it's found."

Alabaster swallowed down a laughter of childish mirth, watching his sister lie through her teeth.

Murmurs swept through the room.

"You are not complying with the peace treaty." Empress Athena stepped forward.

"I beg your pardon?" Lou's stumbling almost went unnoticed. Almost.

"He," with the way Athena's tone sounded, people would think even addressing him as a person was below her station, "was to be stripped of all his titles and connections to Epirus. He is not your heir, nor is he your prince. He is no longer a Torrington."

Would it kill her to say Alabaster's name?

"What are we supposed to think, now that you have him on the dais after an assassination attack on one of our own, dressed in Epirusian regalia no less?"

Panic spiked through his being. Lou gripped the arms of her throne, a range of colours passing by her face.

Alabaster sent a look at his silent lovers, Annabeth gnawing on her lips and picking at her cuticles behind people's backs, Perseus staring at his own feet.

With his heart rabbiting, he ducked his head, "May I speak, your Majesty?"

"You may." His sister was all too quick on answering.

"Is it wrong of me to help out my sister with my expertise, Empress?" He asked, "All of you may sleep easily tonight as the would be assassin will not live for more than an hour, thanks to me."

Let them think Mr Nakamura has died, Alabaster mused, let his reputation as a snake do its own talking.

"As for the clothing," he craned his neck, in a way that would make his brooch visible to all of them, "Your daughter and her husband's tastes answer that question."

Athena flushed, as his lovers blushed from head to toe simultaneously. He shut his eyes, letting the giggles and the humiliation wash over him.

So long as his sister was safe.

"You are all dismissed." Lou's voice echoed throughout the room, her hand giving his a squeeze while they parted in their separate ways.

"I am glad you sorted things out with your sister." Annabeth murmured, scratching at her thumb. She leant on the headboard, the sheets and her hiked up nightgown tangled at her calves.

The curtains fluttered with the wind coming from the open windows, Diana's rays painting the otherwise dark room a soft silver. The flame of the lone oil lamp sat on the bedside table fought for its own survival, failing to light anything but a small circle barely bigger than its base.

Alabaster hummed as he methodically worked Perseus out of his clothes.

"You mortified my mother." A fake laugh bubbled past her lips, "You can keep the clothes, you know? The crown, too. You can wear them inside our chambers—"

"The King, 'Beth." He slipped the nightshirt over Perseus's head. Poseidon would use him as a hunting target if he ever dared.

He had relinquished the circlet back to Lou, so that it could be hidden far away from the Alliance's greedy reach.

"Right. I forget." Annabeth’s head bobbed, while she pulled her knees to her chest, hunched over.

"Annabeth?" Perseus frowned, concern at his tongue, "Are you alright?"

"Jewel." She drew a sharp breath. He was already dreading her words, "You are coming, yes?"

"To your anniversary?"

Alabaster scowled, tightening the ties of Perseus's sleeve as he rocked back and forth on his heels, occasionally changing rhythm and causing Alabaster to drop the silks. Honestly, if he was going to fuss this much, he could have done it himself. Maybe if he cut off Perseus's blood circulation, the man would be unable to hold a sword ever again.

Alabaster would like that.

"In general. With us." Annabeth said hastily, "You are coming?"

"Where else would I go?" Alabaster smoothed out the hems of the shirt, nudging Perseus towards the bed, and dodged a kiss.

He reached for his own nightgown, tucking it under his arm as he shrugged the tunic off, slowly unbuttoning his shirt.

"There are less guards watching out for you here." She wheezed, trembling whole body, "More people who are loyal to you. And your family. If you want to vanish into the night..."

Alabaster blinked, his hands stalling. Fatigue whispered his name. His lungs ceased their working. Orders of 'Please him.' and Poseidon's touch crawled beneath his skin, sticking along his flesh. Athena's knife sharp voice clawed at his throat.

If he disappeared within Epirus's borders it would be on his sister.

Did Annabeth not understand what would happen, or was she simply that insecure?

Or did his lovers wanted an excuse to chain him to their side?

No longer a Torrington, his heart ached.

He plucked off the brooch, the green carnation spiralling towards the floor. Alabaster stared at the engravings.

No one would allow him to be a Jackson either.

"Tell me you'll stay with me." Lady Jackson's voice broke.

"I am yours." Alabaster plastered a smile, more so to contain his eyes's burning. The fondness he received in turn from the couple spread a sickly warmth in his chest, not unlike the drinks he so depended on.

The carnation laid wilted at his feet.

The servants's whispers painted the morning silence with a pleasant background hymn. Shirts and breeches and various other articles of clothing flew over the antechamber. Each one was picked right from the air, neatly folded and placed in one of the luggages covering the floors.

Alabaster sent a forlorn look towards the doors between the rooms. His lovers were still ensnared together, warm under the sheets. The sunlight caressing their skin with his golden hues, lulling them further into sleep.

He did not have the luxury of basking in between them, not when there was a trip to prepare for.

A maid ran a powdered comb through his damp hair, wet from the bath he had been ushered into at dawn. She didn't bother untangling the comb's teeth when it caught a snag, or being gentle at all. Servants from Poseidon's household rarely did. They had figured it didn't matter possibly, as none of them lasted more than three months.

He ground his teeth, biting his tongue lest he protest to the harsh poking and prodding, while the maid wove iridescent, shimmering silks amidst his brown strands.

At the edge of his vision, he saw Irene pack a white riding suit, just as all his hair was pinned up.

"That belongs to the Princess, not her husband. You have got the wrong bag." Alabaster pointed out, and turned around on the velvet stool he was perched on. He adjusted the corset on his body, smoothing out the white gold and pearl chains attached to its ends. Another servant began lacing him up.

Irene changed the clothing's placement, and buckled the bag shut. A man struggled with fitting in a coat, huffing and grunting. Amused, Alabaster watched Hurley grumble under his breath.

He pulled the coat out, shaking out the thick, red fabric.

"Oh, you can leave that here." Alabaster bunched up his face after recognising the coat, "or burn it on fire."

He loathed the sight of it, how the ruby red obviously washed out Perseus's olive complexion, while the man was yet insisting on wearing the coat.

Hurley curled his lower lip.

Alabaster sighed, forcing his mouth into a wide grin, "The Prince won't notice its absence, I swear."

Even if he somehow would, Alabaster would just be happy to get rid of the eyesore.

Hurley groaned, muttering curses about prissy princes, but flung the coat behind a cabinet.

Alabaster whooped inwardly.

The corset fit snugly against the thin muslin of his shirt, almost laced fully. He sucked in a breath, "Tighter."

They complied.

Alabaster frowned. It wasn't enough. "I said tighter."

"Any more and both the corset and your body would damage!" The servant protested, "That's not how you wear—"

"Tighter." He gasped.

"If he wants to suffocate just let him." Hurley scoffed from where he knelt over a bag.

They sighed, loosening the laces to pull them more, like he wished so.

At least the improper wear would give people something other than his scandalous attire to gossip over.

At least the pain would distract him from how horribly exposed he felt.

"Twelve, thirteen—" Alabaster paced from one side of the carriage to the other, counting inside his head, "Twenty five. That's about it, we are done here."

Perseus and Annabeth’s luggages sat snugly inside the polished dark blue carriage's compartment, ready for the ride to Thera.

Or Poseidon would assume it was to Thera.

Devere took a glance at the inventory in his hands, brows knit, "Not quite..."

"I am certain I counted correct." He sneered. "What? Is there a baggage left?"

Devere shifted on his feet, avoiding his gaze, "You. You are."

Alabaster's mouth dried.

A guard opened the carriage door for him, her free hand hovering above her sword. He quickly climbed in, not in the mood to try to parry a blade with his bare hands when the aquamarine shawl draped across his shoulders already restricted the movement of his arms.

The doors got shut after him, locked from the outside.

By the time his lovers came, Alabaster was half sprawled across on one side of the seats, fanning himself as a headache started blooming. The urge to retch threatened at the back of his throat, the heat leaving him nauseous.

"Jewel?" Perseus asked as he took the opposite seat, his wife following him soon after. "You missed your sister's speech. How long have you been waiting?"

"Enough." Alabaster mumbled.

Figured Poseidon would take no chance on whether he would use the chaos of the departure preparations to escape.

"Did she ask for me?"

The carriage startled as the horses neighed, and the cloppings of their hooves became audible. The palace spearing through the choppy mountains shrank gradually, pushing him farther away from his homeland.

"No." Annabeth hesitated, and placed her hand on his knee, "It doesn't matter now, though. We have a holiday to enjoy."

And me, his mind supplied, right as Poseidon cooed: Enjoying yourselves?

Illness weighted heavy down his chest, "Get your hand off me."

Annabeth smirked, sliding her hand up Alabaster's thigh instead, his skin prickling and flushed under her touch. She pulled herself next to him, scooting so that Alabaster was pressed between her and the door, with nowhere to avoid her.

Butterflies screamed inside his ribcage.

"Isn't it exciting?" Her eyes shone bright, her thumb digging into his flesh, "I think we need it."

Alabaster exhaled and relented, tucking his head under her chin after throwing his arm around her shoulders.

"I just want this to be over with."

The blues and greys fanned out across his eyes, white foams galloping towards the shore like knights on horses. They attacked the rough rocks and the golden sands with all their might, dispersing fine mist into the equally blue air.

Annabeth gasped in wonder, Alabaster's fingers intertwined with hers. The sea breeze danced between their figures, blowing their hairdos in the wind. Salt on his tongue, Alabaster took a step forward on the mismatched road made of packed dirt and cobblestone, daisies and weeds sprouting from the cracks.

Olive trees framed the picturesque sight, jade and pale green leaves rustling each time a bird took flight or decided to rest on the thick, centuries old, branches.

The commoners mingled in the distance, going through their daily lives. Houses stood together at their left, a woman's voice announcing fresh bread mixing with the bird chirps. A man walked alongside an oxcart, his children giggling and chattering among the piles of fish it carried, occasionally slapping eachother with the big ones.

Alabaster absentmindedly kicked at the gravel, a pebble rolling down the hill, towards Perseus. The man beamed at the two of them, waving them over, "Come on!"

The village seemed like it was taken right out of the third act of one of his romance novels, where the young protagonist would be sent to the seaside by her relatives who claimed the fresh air would ease her heartbreak induced sickness.

He hoped there was some sliver of truth to the stories, that it would serve to wash away his tiredness.

If it didn't...

Alabaster wasn't sure just how much longer he could spare the energy to keep his eyes open.

Pulled along, he stumbled down the hill with Annabeth, crashing into their lover. Perseus giggled, a blissful glow to his spirits in a way the Atlantian court weren't privy to.

Stray dogs rolled over and cracked their eyelids open as they strolled next to them, heading towards the mayor's house.

However kind she was, Alabaster was still puzzled over what to think of Sally Blofis. She had made it clear that she knew Poseidon was the King before she had Tyson, after all, and he couldn’t fathom what she had been planning about it, if not to become the Queen.

People did not have two kids out of wedlock with the King for love. He doubted the advances were unwanted either, as she could had gone into hiding with baby Percy afterwards or abandoned the children in a temple.

But Sally wasn't any of those things.

Sally was neither a cunning politician nor a poor fisherwoman, and it kept throwing Alabaster off.

Perseus knocked the door of an inconspicuous house, wiping his hands against his breeches.

The door flew open to reveal a middle aged woman, a little older than Triton probably. Her brown hair, speckled with silver, was tied in a bun with simple unembroidered fabric. An apron made of similar material hung from her waist. Smile lines and wrinkles adorned her face, ever shifting lagoon-like eyes staring at them in shock.

"Hi, mom." Perseus gave a soft smile, his eyes, which he had obviously gotten from Sally, wet, "I'm home."

The palace was deceptively quiet after the guests had left.

Eudora walked into the servants's quarters, rolling her shoulders to pop them. Her Lou Ellen had given half the staff the day off after the ballroom had been scrubbed clean, leaving the room empty.

She appreciated the privacy. She would need it for what she was about to do.

Eudora settled between the bunk beds, pulling a wrapped bundle under hers. Once unwrapped; a few blank parchments, a quill, the posters she hadn't managed to hide inside the pantry and a small, palm-wide box laid on the cloth. She carefully set it aside, double checking that the lid was closed.

There was no need for cyanide at the moment.

Eudora brushed her fingers against the posters, caressing the Queen's face.

"I'm sorry. I couldn't protect them," she murmured, "I can't do it without you."

She grabbed a nearby inkpot, smoothed out a parchment, and started writing:

To the Lady of Geese,

I have done my end of our understanding, as your husband will attest. The child on the throne suspects nothing, too busy with playing dress-up in her mother's clothing.

It is now time you kept your promise. You spoke of information regarding my beloved's fate. Do tell me of her whereabouts. I beseech you, dear ma'am, do not leave me weeping alone no more.

To a prosperous Epirus,

— E