The Peace-Weaver (a Percabeth AU)

The Question

     "Why did you follow me into exile?" Percy asked.

     It was the evening after the attack and Annabeth was sitting beside Percy on the damp ground. It wasn't comfortable. It was chilly and despite the leafy tree they were under, they were both soaked to the skin. Their teeth chattered and they huddled together for any semblance of warmth. Annabeth had tried to start a fire earlier, but the dampness had made it difficult and once the drizzle turned into a downpour, it became impossible.

"You're my husband," Annabeth said simply.

Percy met her gaze and Annabeth was aware of the strangeness of it all. The gaze was both probing and vulnerable — invasive yet gentle.

"He's your father," Percy said. "You could have chosen an easy life with him. We have no children together and our marriage is still fresh. Why did you decide to accompany me?"

Annabeth bit her lip. Why had she gone with him? That part of her that urged her to do that was not her logical side — the side of her that she liked the most, but the more impulsive and emotional side. Yet she wanted to explain her choice with logic.

"You have earned my trust and loyalty," Annabeth said. "You taught me how to sword fight. You respected me on our wedding night. You showed surprising restraint and maturity for a Seaweed Brain such as yourself."

Percy made a noise that might have been a cough or a laugh. "When your father first proposed the marriage, I refused," he said. "I wanted nothing to do with your family. My father had died at King Frederick's hands."

     Annabeth noted that he hadn't said "your father's hands." Was this a mental lapse or a conscious choice? Just how clever was her Seaweed Brain? "What made you decide to accept the offer?" she asked.

Percy went silent, looking at his muddied shoes. The wind picked up and the branches of the trees surrounding them rattled. "I didn't want to accept the offer," he finally said, "but I did it because I thought it was the best thing I could do. The war didn't just kill my father — it killed many brave men. I couldn't keep making my men fight a war that I knew we likely couldn't win when there was an alternative."

"That's the most unwarlike thing I've ever heard a ring giver say," Annabeth said teasingly.

"I'm not a ring giver any longer," Percy sighed.

Annabeth perceived the frustration and anger in his eyes. From what she could tell, Percy was impulsive, but his impulsivity was generally curbed by his council. Now, his only counsel was Annabeth and though she had confidence in herself, the task of keeping the two of them safe was a bit daunting.

     Annabeth drew closer to Percy. The muddied ground squelched as she moved, but she instead focused on her husband. She slowly, carefully drew her left hand out and used it to lift his chin slightly so their gazes met. It was like the time before — the same combination of vulnerability and probing. "That is why I'm still with you," Annabeth said and they left the question at that.