A Crown of Golden Leaves: A Percy Jackson Fanfiction

Caput XXXVIII: The Tolling of the Clock

Well, this certainly wasn't a dream. Or... what happened earlier this night, for that matter. It definitely wasn't a dream. He could smell her hair - lemons - and feel it tickling his chin and his nose.

I am an idiot, he told himself for what felt like the millionth time that night. He felt even more tired than he had before he fell asleep for some reason. And the worst husband in the history of Rome. Ever. I am the worst husband ever. There is something wrong with me.

Which ... he had already established. Several times, in fact.

He banged his head against a pillow. Again.

There was no way he was going to end up falling asleep like this. Not only was he way too awake, but he was currently torturing himself. He might as well try to do something more productive. Like ... go for a walk around the battlements. Maybe even the Field of Mars. That was a good idea.

Carefully, he wriggled out from underneath Blanket Hogging Annabeth. Her hand clawed through the air, reaching for him even in sleep, and he shoved a pillow into her hand. Instantly, she hugged it, and he shook his head with a quiet chuckle. Of course she would.

He slipped into his sandals at the door, glanced over his shoulder at Annabeth one last time, and he closed the door shut behind him, taking care not to accidentally wake her up. He felt almost like he was in a dream - or he was wading through mud. His limbs were heavy as he splashed some water on his face, which had felt sticky for some reason, but he refused to contemplate the reason for that. He'd probably made Annabeth cry enough for both of them last night, though she'd tried to hide it ...

I'm an idiot. He carded his fingers through his hair as he walked through the too quiet halls. He'd never known ... He didn't even know why he'd completely lost it. He just - had.

And why was it so quiet anyway? There had been plenty of times where he'd wandered through the palace at night, especially after his mother and Rachel had died, and it had never been this silent. He couldn't hear the wind whistling through the arches, or the soft giggling of lovers in the alcoves, or the servants walking back to their rooms after a long, hard day of work.

He was close to the infirmary. Strange. It was on the the other side of the citadel - His feet must have led him here while he became lost in his thoughts. Maybe that was a good thing though ... If he could sort out which end was which in his head, maybe he could figure out what in Tartarus was wrong with him.

Bloody Hell, I hate emotions. He was tempted to hit something. Or maybe hit his head against something. That might clear things up for him - Though he was also sure that it wouldn't actually too much to actually help him straighten his thoughts.

Maybe just getting an update on this spreading epidemic would help him... At the very least, it would distract him from this, at least for a while. He really didn't want to think about it right now. He'd rather not ever but that wouldn't be fair to Annabeth.

Oh, gods, Annabeth.

I am definitely the worst husband in the history of husbands. There was no way he was going to be able to pretend this hadn't happened ... and he kind of doubted bottling it up would actually work. But seriously, what kind of man said no to sex with his very beautiful wife? Twice?

Ugggggh. I must be mad.

"My liege?"

Percy jumped at the voice and spun around. A harried-looking nurse blinked up at him with doe eyes, clutching a pile of towels to her chest. He waved, deciding that that was the best course of action in Looking Innocent. It wasn't like he'd been out setting things on fire like that one time with Jason a few nights after Rachel had died . . .