Alternatively

Just a Boy, Just a Girl (i.)

The princess died in childbirth, and the twins were born still, and finally, the young duchess was next in line. She was not scared, nor was she alarmed; she had been ready for this announcement since her governess taught her about the family tree. 

She wore black for her week of mourning, but she was standing tall, looking down.

Trained in poise, grace, and strategy, Annabeth was never meant to be just a girl. The country was to fall on her shoulders, and those shoulders had to be strong. Attempts on her life were commonplace, but she expected such acts. Her nation was divided, in a state of turmoil and political distress. Surely there were uncles and cousins that the split parties would love to see take the throne, and surely said uncles and cousins would love to claim the crown regardless of alignment.

It did not matter.

She was alive, she was ready.

And she was restless.

Far from her country, she lay in wait for that fateful day when a messenger in black would race up the road. She barely knew her grandfather, for he had many grandchildren and no sense of familial connection, and it was only through his death could she be free of her mother's grasp. The villa was grand, yes, but it was all she knew.

Keep my daughter safe.

Keep her hidden.

Keep her ready.

She lay in wait, stuck on a shelf until she could be of use.

There were not many visitors to her mother's court, not since it became a military stronghold. She knew of dancing and tradition, but it was rarely practiced. What became her priority lay in the arts of war, in fighting and planning. Her father's advisors called her past time's barbaric, her behavior ill fitting for a member of a coquettish and deceptively peaceful court.

But what did they expect from a line based in battle and bloodshed?

Her tongue was as sharp as her blades, speaking to her elders as though she were already of age. She was clever, passionate; some would say she was seeking to prove herself, though as to what she sought to prove, no one knew. For such a young woman, a mere girl, she felt urgency burning her inside out.

The intensity startled more than a few, downright scaring the dignitaries that did grace the fortress's halls. A visiting prince called her a "vile fright", and she did not take well to the comment, stubbornly refusing to formally receive him and his family in the great hall, no matter how her mother demanded. She went as far to sneer at the prince's cousin as they were shown to their rooms, hurling a battle ax at her target in the courtyard.

The boy had blinked, and she thought he looked like a bird with such wide eyes and thin legs. To her delight, the young duke quickly scowled and sharply turned to follow the party.

Her only adversary had been her mother; everyone else tried to gain favor with the future queen.

"Behave," her governess had hissed, lacing her corset for the evening. "The lords have only just found peace with this country."

"I don't care," she simpered. "Besides, Mother will find a way to end it before I ever do."

"Don't underestimate yourself."

The duke met her baleful glares with that of his own from across halls and dinner tables, reluctantly tagging along when the party set out to view the royal guard. It was clear he was just as reluctant to be dragged around in general, whining to the king when he thought he went unobserved.

Well.

She observed, narrowing her eyes when the prince mocked the boy's complaints before insisting without a hint of irony, "Father, do we really have to stay another night? We've seen enough, haven't we?"