Alternatively

A Lake Of Tears (i.)

One dragon scale, preferably from the Horntail.

Three teaspoons of marithyme, fresh.

As much visserent as you dare, though the more, the stronger.

Essence of the land (lake water will work).

Five drops of blood from the left hand.

That was all it took to make a potion binding her to the lake. A twelve year old halfling managed to bind the last of the enchanted forest to her heart with a simple potion, thwarting the sorcerer as he swooped in for the kill. She thought herself clever, oh so clever in the face of such travesty; blood soaked the lake shore and dyed the guardians' feathers crimson. The only thing she had to offer was a defended heart, a heart protected by enchantments and spells from birth.

A heart protected from harm, but not from curse.

With one scale, fresh marithyme, more than enough visserent, drops of lake, and a palm of blood, she became the queen of what remained of the forest. With enraged intention and power greater than anyone had ever seen, the sorcerer forced her to don feathers and down. No matter that she had bare skin come moonlight; the Village Born could never return to the life before the enchantresses left her with the weight of the world on her shoulders.

"You have to leave."

He stared unabashedly, his bow dangling from his slack fingers.

"You either leave by yourself or I'll make you."

"This is where you've been?"

She turned her back to him, rifling through vials and jars. Don't respond.

"Five years, and you've been here?"

She had really hoped he hadn't remembered her, had hoped Kronos's spell would blur her enough.

"You could have told me, I would have-"

"You would have what?" she slammed a bottle on the counter, refusing to face him. "What could you do that I haven't already tried?"

"I could have been there for you!"

"Been there for-" she shook her head.

"Annabeth..."

It had been years since she had heard her name, much less spoken by him. 

"Tell me what happened."

She stared at the glass bottle in her grip, controlling her breathing and schooling her features into something less irate. No longer did remembering make her heart stop or her ears ring; simply remembering wasn't enough to break her down as it had before. She was, however, struggling to stomp down the sunshine she used to see in his smile. It complicated many things.

"There has to be something I can do."

"You can leave," she finally looking at him. "It's not safe here."

"You think that'll get me to go?"

Frustration boiled in her gut and she clutched the bottle even tighter.

"Everyone thought you died," he searched her face. "I thought you were dead, and you've been here this whole time."

"So what? You want an apology?"

He rolled his eyes, shifting his weight. "An explanation would be nice."

"I'm not here for fun, Highness," she stepped to the table separating them. "I'm not here because I enjoy the woods, I don't like being here, and I'm not leaving. Accept it and go."