High King Poseidon: A Narrative Fiction

Annabeth contemplated on whether or not to knock on Percy's door again, as it was dinner time, and she certainly didn't want her guest to be hungry, and starving in the palace - that wouldn't be socially acceptable for a human, nonetheless a princess. So, for once, she ignored the rule of having only a boy and girl in the same room at the same time, when they're not married to one another, and just shoved the door open and walked through it all high and mighty.

She tried to stifle her giggles once she saw the abominable way Percy was sleeping on the bed, with all his limbs sprawled across the bed in some weird fashion (like, gods, doesn't that hurt at all?) and his head facing sideways, therefore almost falling off of the bed, and.. was that drool coming out of his lips? She peered in closer, and
"High King Poseidon is close to dying,"

There was a collective of gasps that ran through the audience, one of them coming out of Percy's mouth. Some women started weeping, and Annabeth felt herself gain a flashback to when the town's people heard that High King Frederick was dead. Oh, that day was boisterous to say it in the least. Many were either weeping, or in just plain denial, but the only thing that they could agree on was that the kingdom would never be the same again. And they were right to think so. Athena became cold and cruel, Annabeth became distant and far away, and everyone felt awkward and out of place.

Annabeth felt Percy's hands pull away from hers, so quickly and so suddenly as if she had the plague, so she turned to look at him. Her lips pulled into a frown, when she saw that Percy was gripping the edge of the table so tightly, his knuckles were turning white. His head was bowed down, and he refused to meet anyone's eyes, which confused Annabeth even