𝑹𝒆𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒏 [𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧]

26- America Singer

17 September, 2396

Death did not do Sally Jackson any favours. Her face looked like a piece of rotting meat. Her features were simply not present, nothing but the simple, now pale blue eyes reminded me of the beautiful woman that once was. The murderer was unknown, though mark of the Southern Rebels was burnt into her neck.

Percy seemed empty, nothing but a shell. I was sure he wouldn't be the same person I'd grown to love over the past few months, but a different, more emotionally damaged human.

He funeral was a quiet affair, none other than the King, Percy, his cousins and the Selected were present. Thalia delivered a sorrowful eulogy, though I could still understand the difficulty they were all having to absorb such a shocking incident. Even I felt heartbroken at Sally's death, and I knew her a few months. For them, a piece of their lives, someone who had they had relied on, a person of permanence, was gone.

I could empathise with Percy's pain, since I had felt the loss of a mother too, and it wasn't such a nice feeling. It felt as if though someone had dragged you out in a damp street and wacked you with baseball bat ten times in gut. Not a pleasant feeling, I'm sure you can gather.

I didn't know how to console him, even as I stood next to him during the burial, I hated that I couldn't say anything to immediately dry up his tears and make him smile. All I did, even in those critical moments, was hold his hand and remind him that I was there with him, through bad times and good, through sorrow and delight.

28 September, 2396

Percy didn't visit me, nor did he take anyone out for any date. Which was apparently shocking to King Gabriel, who, from what Nico had told me, wanted Percy to choose Annalise straight away and get married.

"Like hell that's going to happen." Percy droned. "Even though my only support in council is gone-" his voice cracked a bit and I grabbed his hand to offer comfort. "I'm not giving up on what we've made for ourselves."

I tried my best for a smile, but it never came around. Sally's death had affected me in ways I had not expected. Of course the tears and genuine feeling of hopelessness was present, but I felt like she had left me with a responsibility, a big one at that. And also one I had been ignoring for the past few days.

"Percy," I said, taking a deep breath. "You don't have to jeopardise your job and potentially kingship. You don't have to fight for this-"

"Annabeth, the day before mom-" he inhaled. "She told me, us, to keep fighting for our love. So yes, Annabeth. I do need to keep fighting, because I belive in the bond we've built and I trust that it's stronger than any bullshit than Gabe can pull." Percy said, his eyes ablaze with a fire I had never noticed before.

"Percy," I said, at a loss for words. I cupped his face and kissed him. "You're right, we owe this to both ourselves, and your mom."

Percy tried for a smile, but instead teared up. I loved how he felt comfortable enough to cry in front of me. I wiped tears from his cheeks and tried to hold in mine. There was nothing I could've said to make him feel better. I knew frome experience that such a tragedy could not be explained in words, nor could any console the affected. Percy stopped crying after a while, and told me he was tired.

"See you in the morning?" I asked, seeing him to the door.

"Hope so." He said quietly, and sagged off.

"Anything you need, miss?" Janet asked, as the maids passed me my gown.

"Nothing, you're free to go." I dismissed the three, and they too, walked off generating an aura of despair. I hadn't thought of how the Queen's death had affected them, but of course, even they had worked for her for years. I supposed everyone was affected, but I, unlike most people was trying my best to ignore what Sally and I had discussed in our very last conversation.

"Do what I couldn't." Sally's voice spoke in my head. I knew I had to reopen the journals, and after Sally's death, it felt like an obligation. Even though I knew it wasn't. I just felt I had to honour Sally's memory and her wishes, and do the best for this kingdom in the process.

Of course, I could just not poke around and live through my clearly new privileged life as princess with the man I loved. But again, would that really possible without discovering the truth of how Kronos and King Gabriel truly came into power.

"It is your destiny, Annabeth." Sally spoke in my head again.

I rushed to lock my bedroom door, and removed the floorboard, to find the journal secure. I opened it.

August, Spencer's son,was the last living Illéa, but it was foolish of me to assume that it would stay that way. His son was a menace. Kronos was born a few good years before I took the throne. Unfortunately, Georgia Whitaker, August's wife, never knew about her husband's illegitimate child. Upon discovering his true identity, Kronos killed his father, and attacked Illéa.

Normally, we would've been able to stop him, but he had manipulated Illéans with idea that Maxon was of impure blood, and not of the proper Illéan bloodline. He leaked the contents of the diary and managed to change the people's way of thinking. Portraying us as the villain, he claimed that Gregory's caste system was right, and belived that our founder was the great hero he was once thought of as. After successfully dragging the civilians minds back twenty years, he organised a rebellion.

The printed font ended there, and the rest of the diary was empty. I scrolled, and found a separate page at the end. Creepily, the page was splattered with a maroon stain that looked eerily like blood. I opened the final note and scanned the words. The handwriting read:

To whoever finds this. This is my last stand. They have infiltrated the Palace. They have killed Maxon and spared none from the Royal family. This journal is the basis of the abolishment of the caste system and rise of a liberal state in the form of Illéa.

These New Rebels will have the revival of the castes and I will be unable to stop them. But you, who is reading this, you can stop them. I have recorded all the rulers and their respective time periods, stretching from Gregory Illéa to myself and Maxon.

This journal states the unfair, unruly and unjust nature of the catses and how they were created. To make the rich richer and the poor poorer, and to show that some people are better than others, when in reality, we are all the same. I trust you to restore this balance, where no one is is judged by their caste, but by their character. I know you will have work to do when you find it.

I'm hiding it where I found it, in the secret libraries of the Palace. When you find them, you will fix what these rebels have broken.

I know you will.

Farewell Illéa, I leave you in the hands of the person who finds these diaries.

Your Queen,

America Singer.

My hands trembled, as I held the former Queen's letter. My face had lost all colour, but my mind had never been sharper. Sally must've discovered the journal, but given up since Kronos likely forced her to, but she never truly gave up. If she did, Sally would've never given the journal to me.

"I have an idea." I said.