You know what - I take it back. I can't dance. I know I was joking before, but this is horrible. I definitely can't dance.

Give me dining etiquette, or Olympian history lectures, or even waving lessons for chrissake - just don't make me do anymore waltzing. I get it - I suck. Isn't the heat on my face and Grandma's bruised feet evidence of that enough?

"It's quite alright," she says with encouragement after I slam directly on top of her toe and I apologize for about the millionth time. "Chin up. Don't look down. Trust your own body."

Annabeth is watching from a chair on the outskirts of the sitting room that had been cleared just for this purpose. She's in charge of the music from the stereo system and watching with stoic silence. I can't tell if she's bored or simply doesn't care. But her eyes are on me, which makes me glow.

I've been training for weeks and I haven't really done much improving. She's probably thinking it was all a waste of time.

"Tell me again why I need to do this?" I ask Grandma as we start again.

"It's customary for the prince to lead the dance."

"And if I don't take the crown, I won't have to, right?"

"You're willing to give up just because of this one condition?"

"Thinkin' about it."

"Perseus…"

"Pretty sure your people don't want two left feet being in charge of the country."

"Our people," she corrects. "Do not think of this as a dance, rather a conversation. You ask a question, I respond."

"Are we dancing together at the ball?"

"No. The noble families will present their daughters to you. You can choose one of them to be your companion."

"What if I don't want to dance with someone I don't know?" My hands are sweating enough already.

"One day that girl may be your queen," Grandma says.

My eyes flicker toward Annabeth, whose gaze has focused on the floor in front of her.

"Madame?" a butler calls from the foyer. We stop dancing and Grandma turns to face him. "Our guest is ready in the conservatory," he says.

"Excellent." She speaks to Annabeth when the butler leaves. "Ms. Chase, you may turn off the music now, thank you. Perseus, if you would follow me."

"What's going on?" I say as I do, secretly very glad we don't have to do more dancing.

She doesn't answer and instead shows me. A beautiful - and I mean, gorgeous - woman stands next to one of those chairs you see in a salon that's set up right in the middle of the circular room. She looks right through me with perfectly made-up eyes and speaks to Grandma instead.

"Good afternoon, Your Majesty." She curtsies deeply and Grandma extends her hand towards her. The woman takes it and clasps it tight like they're old friends.

I, always curious, wander toward the vanity that's been set up on the opposite wall, piled with beauty products. The lightbulbs around the mirror practically blind me enough that dark spots pop in my vision.

"So tell me," the woman says. "Where is your strapping young grandson?"

"Right here," Grandma says.

I turn around and that's apparently when the woman noticed that I was there from the start. She lets out a yelp - more like a shriek - and slaps her hand over her mouth when she sees me. Well, that's a first.

Grandma looks at her, surprised, and the woman instead giggles nervously. "Oh my - h-how handsome."

"Perseus, this is Aphrodite - one of Olympia's renowned stylists. She'll be in charge of your transformation."

"My what?" I say, blinking.

The woman turns to Grandma and speaks in a hushed voice. "Oh, Your Grace, if you had mentioned what I was going to be working with, I would have brought a team -"

"I trust in your abilities, Miss Aphrodite," she says. "The ball is this weekend. He must be presentable."

"What's wrong with me now?" I ask.

Aphrodite just pinches her lips together and pulls a pair of scissors from her belt. She snips them together twice and points to the salon chair. "Please, get comfortable."

I can't tell what she's doing. She won't show me my reflection in the mirror. All I know is that she washed and cut my hair, and put some weird goop on my face, and painfully dug out dirt from my fingernails I didn't even know I had, and then threw my glasses away in the trash before she helped me put in contacts.

As I stand behind a curtain and change into the clothes Grandma picked out for me, I can hear Aphrodite from the other side.

"You should see him. Really, I outdid myself."

"I have no doubt, Aphrodite," Grandma says.

"Are you ready, my dear?"

"I think," I say, not sure if I put the jacket on right or not.

"Then come out! Show off my hard work!"

The curtain pulls back and Grandma and Aphrodite look me up and down. Grandma's smile is radiant.

With upturned eyebrows twisted in insecurity, I ask, "Does it look weird?"

She meets my eyes and again they look a little misty like the first time I met her those few weeks ago.

"Not at all," she says, taking my hand. "You just remind me of someone."

Annabeth appears in the doorway, looks up from her book, and does a double-take when she sees me. Her eyes slowly widen and even her jaw drops. Pink rises on her cheeks and heat spreads like a slap on the back of my neck.

Grandma steps to the side and opens me up to the mirror behind her.

Like Annabeth, I have to do a double-take. I can't really believe what I'm seeing. I mean, I know it's me standing there - with black leather boots up to my knee, and slim white trousers with a gold stripe down the sides, and the high-collared navy blue jacket with gold epaulettes on the shoulders and everything. There's even a gold sash strung across my waist. The clothes actually fit me, having me measured and tailored to my exact size. It's what I'll be wearing to the ball.

My hair is trimmed and swept back so you can actually see my eyes now that the glasses have no doubt been incinerated at Aphrodite's insistence. I've been hiding behind so much for so long, I don't recognize my own face. I even look taller. And for once in my life, I don't look half-bad. Maybe somewhere between decent and acceptable?

But it's not me. I see the person everyone wants me to be. I see the expectation. I see the marble statue sitting in the parlour.

I see my father.

"I have to go," I say, the words spilling from me like puke.

And just like before, I run out of the embassy and all the way home.

"No, Rhea. I don't think he's going to change his mind. He's just like his dad that way."

I can hear my mom on the phone on the other side of my closed door. It's the night of the Olympian Independence Day Ball and I am definitely not dressed to be seen by anyone.

I had gone to school this week as if nothing was special about me at all. I ignored the limo waiting to drive me places, ditched lessons on how to be a prince, stopped pretending to be something I'm not. Grover said he liked my new look, but I still felt like I was becoming someone I couldn't be. I buried myself under a baseball cap most of the time. Annabeth was still on my tail at school, watching over me, but we didn't talk. At least, I didn't have the guts to say anything to her.

As I lie in bed with my hoodie pulled up and stare at the cracked ceiling, I listen to Mom cover for me over the slow rumble of thunder in the distance. How cliché - a thunderstorm when I'm feeling depressed. Could I be any more useless?

There's a small knock on my door and I know Mom is checking on me. I don't have the heart to tell her to go away.

"Yeah?" I say.

She opens the door an inch and peers inside. She gives me a small, warm smile and asks, "Can I come in?"

I nod and she opens the door wider for her to step through. She brings in the smell of cookies with her.

The bed creaks when I scooch to press my back up against the headboard and give her room to sit on the edge of my mattress. She squeezes my knee beneath the blanket and sighs.

"So I just got off the phone with your grandmother…"

"Yeah, I heard. Thin walls."

"Are you sure you're not going to the ball?"

"I'm sure."

Mom nods. "Do you need to talk about it?"

This whole week I've been dodging questions left and right. I'm embarrassed more than anything. I really am a coward.

She senses my hesitation and adjusts herself so she's fully on my bed now and leaning on the wall. Our legs crisscross each other. We used to sit like this as she read to me at night when I was little. Her legs pressing down on me was actually comforting, like she was reminding me that she was always there. I'd fall asleep all warm and happy because I didn't need anyone else but my mom.

"I'm sorry," I say, finally.

"For what?" she asks, her eyebrows knit.

"I'm just not a prince."

"Percy, you weren't a prince all of a sudden. You always have been."

"A pretty lousy one then…"

"What are you afraid is going to happen?"

"That I'd let you down. Like I let Grandma down. And Olympia."

"Is running away the best option?"

"No…" I know she's right, but it twists my guts to think that I had been so delusional to think otherwise.

She squeezes my knee again and smiles.

My voice is thick. "I can't be my dad."

"But you already are."

She catches my eyes and holds them.

"Your dad was many things," she says, "but most of all he was human. He allowed himself to make mistakes, have hesitations, take chances. He was scared of being king too. That's why he found me and we had you. He wanted to leave his life behind and never look back. But he knew that his needs were lower on the list than his people's. Running away would be easy, so that's why he went back."

"And left us here." I point to the plaster crumbling near my closet door where my royal outfits hangs and the dark stain on the carpet near the window. "What a great guy."

"That's my fault," she says with a small smile. "I didn't want pity. His country was priority. But he sent a check here every week anyway to help us. Instead I deposited each one into a bank account specifically for you. When you came of age, I was going to give it to you so you could do whatever - go to college, travel, start a business... Maybe all three! I used some to buy you clothes, send you to that school, everything to make sure you were comfortable but the rest is yours."

"You didn't take any for yourself?" I ask, my vision blurring as the tears start to well. I still have time to blame it on the contacts, but my quivering lip gives me away.

"I don't need anything else but you."

Crying is for babies, but I did anyway. I lean forward and wrap my arms around her and bury my face into her shoulder.

"No matter what, you're my son. I have seen what kind of man you've grown into and what man you're going to be. Your father would be proud, no matter what you choose."

I want to cry harder, but I hold my breath and keep it bottled up so my chest feels like it's going to burst. My mom probably notices how stiff I've gone and she squeezes me tight.

"I love you, mom," I say, my voice muffled in her shirt.

She kisses the side of my head and says into my hair. "I love you too, my little prince."

I'm a sniffling, blubbering mess and I can't even apologize for the snot trail I have to snort back up my nose. My mom just runs her fingers through my hair so its away from my forehead and smiles. She's right. She's always right. I'm being selfish and stupid and I need to be the person she knows I am.

"I'm sorry," I say again as I pull away and wipe my face on my sleeve.

"It's okay. It's what a washing machine is for."

"No, not that - I mean, yeah that - but I'm sorry I'm such a failure."

"The only failure is giving up."

Realization sets in. The tears stop and I finally know what she means. The worst leader is the absent one. I dry my eyes one more time and take a deep breath.

I swallow the phlegm that has gathered in the back of my throat. (I'm the ugliest crier in the world, if you haven't guessed by now.) "You think I still have enough time?" I ask.

"I think so," she says, looking at the clock on the table near my bed. It's 6:35pm. The ball starts at seven.

"Are you coming with me?"

She shakes her head. "My place is here. Your people need you."

I give her one last hug and squeeze her tight. "Go!" she says, patting me on the back. "You'll be late!"

I hold her at arm's length and say, "Thanks, mom." Then I leap out of bed.

No limo means no ride. My mom insists that I get a cab, but in this storm? No way will it get here in time. I gotta move.

I unlock my bike from the rack, practically throw it down the stairs, and ride off into the middle of what's probably a hurricane. It's so dark and the water is so cold, and the wind is blowing so I'm practically riding sideways as I peddle through stopped traffic and honking horns as New York City has been completely shut down.

One time, I take a turn hard and the wheels fall out from under me. I basically eat the pavement and lay in the middle of the road for a good second before I look at my watch and see the time: 6:53. I'm still ten minutes away.

My knee is cut open, my jeans are torn and stained in blood, but I get up and on my bike. I'm not giving up so easy this time. I peddle harder than ever and the rain is dripping from my face so much I must look like a crazy person. My hoodie is soaked through I'm sure it's adding another twenty pounds my bike has to carry as I cut through a corner garden and peel out into traffic.

Headlights are in front of me, blinding me more than the rain, and tires screech.

"Sorry!" I call when I cut off a car and it honks at me. Think the driver would care if I explained it was a diplomatic affair? Doubt it.

7:01 and I don't even stop my bike before I'm running across the embassy grass, the speakers yelling at me the whole time, and I burst in through the front door. A terrified butler jumps when I nearly slam the door in his face.

I apologize quietly and I step inside. There's a string quartet playing somewhere within and I am seriously underdressed. I look like a street rat who got lost on the way to a trash party.

Ladies in elegant gowns gasp and stare at me, gentlemen in tuxedos and holding canes balk and tut, but you know what? I don't care at all.

This is me. And I'm smiling wider than ever.

"It might be drizzling a bit out there," I joke, waving to people as I walk further into the building. People give me a wide berth since I'm dripping wet and my sneakers are squeaking against my sopping socks. As I go further into the building, the music gets louder and more people are standing around. I suddenly hear my grandmother's voice through a microphone. The music quiets.

"Lords and ladies," she says, and I know I don't have much time so I hurry through the crowd until I make it into the living room packed with even more guests. All the furniture is gone except for a stage that's been set up against the far wall. The bookshelf is a backdrop for a mahogany podium where my grandmother stands in a sparkling gold dress as dazzling as the diadem on her head. She looks beautiful.

Everyone lulls into silence to listen to her speak.

"Thank you all for coming to our Independence Day Ball. It's customary for our crown prince to present the opening words, but unfortunately my grandson…"

I cough and when she sees me her eyes widen. I give her a small wave and smile bashfully.

Relief relaxes her shoulders and she smiles too. "Unfortunately, my grandson was a little late. Please welcome Perseus Alexander Jackson Megalos." She holds up her hand to indicate toward me so all heads turn to look.

I literally have a spotlight shining on me.

Then I remember why I puked during my speech class. All of a sudden I have a very powerful need to go to the bathroom, but there's no turning back now.

It's like the parting of the Red Sea when I take a step forward. The sound of my shoes squelching is particularly loud now that everyone is staring in shock. I must be making a fantastic first impression.

Grandma doesn't hug me when I reach the stage, and I don't blame her, but she grasps my upper arms in her hands and squeezes, assuring me with a single touch that she's glad to see me. I have a lot of apologizing to do.

She brings me up to the podium and I face the crowd. A flashbulb goes off as a photographer takes my picture. So the press is here, documenting my less-than-stellar entrance, for all eternity - no pressure or anything.

"Wow. Hi," my voice cracks and I clear it by coughing and start again. "Uh - hi. I'm Percy." The microphone feedbacks and I cringe. The guests exchange glances with one another and I know I gotta start off better than this. I scan their faces and feel their judgement. Then my eyes fall on someone I didn't know I had been looking for.

Annabeth is standing at the edge of the room. She's wearing a modest black dress, and a red shawl is draped low from her elbows. Her hair is down so her curls are pulled over one shoulder. She looks stunning - the kind of stunning that makes my legs feel like Jell-o and my tongue go numb. Either that, or it's because I'm on stage in front of two hundred people… On second thought, nope, I'm pretty sure it's all because of Annabeth.

Speak to one person, I remind myself. As far as you're concerned, Annabeth is the only one who matters.

A weird calm settles over me. Suddenly it's just me and her, alone in a huge room, and everything is going to be okay.

"I know I probably look like a mess. Er, I know I definitely look like a mess and I'm sorry about that. There's just been a lot of things I've had to deal with lately and I had a bit of a wardrobe malfunction."

Annabeth covers her smile with her fingers and it makes me chuckle timidly.

"Earlier this week, I really, really thought about giving up my claim to the throne. I just didn't think I was what you needed. For my whole life I was invisible. Who would want me, you know?"

I laugh even though no one laughs with me. I run a hand through my still-damp hair and cut back to the chase.

"But after a little talk with my mom tonight, I realized that I love the word 'me'. How things will affect me, who people expect me to be, how people will judge me, and how selfish that is. I was really good at being unimportant and got scared when people needed me. Who do you think I am? A prince?" My shoes squeak for added effect. "Ha, yeah right! And what you think should really freak me out, but it doesn't. At least, not anymore."

Annabeth's eyes glisten and I keep going, though my throat has gone dry.

"But there were people who saw me, saw me for who I really am. My mom, my friends, and my grandma, well, my grandma challenged me because she knew I'm my father's son and that I'd get here in the end. And I'm really sorry for making her doubt it right up until now. It just took me a while to see myself too."

I look at her to find that she's beaming and tears have gathered at the corners of her eyes. But she doesn't try to hide them.

I turn back to the crowd - back to Annabeth - and I know it's time to wrap it up.

"I'm not going to pretend I'm the most proper, or that I'm the best dressed, or that I'm the best dancer. Actually, you know what, I am a terrible dancer, so we'll just get that right out there."

The crowd laughs and I give them a moment before I finish. I lock eyes with Annabeth and my breath catches in my lungs. I have to remember to exhale.

"But I want to be someone who doesn't think about 'me' all the time. I want to be there for my people first. I want to actually try, be there always and never want to run away. I want to be a prince. I want to be your prince."

A pressure I didn't know I had suddenly lifts from my chest and I smile wider than ever.

"So I, Perseus - Percy, humbly accept my place as Prince of Olympia… if that's cool with you."

Applause fills the air and suddenly I remember that there are other people in the room besides me and Annabeth, and they're all clapping - they're all clapping for me. Yeah, sure I said I'd stop thinking so much about myself in that speech up there, but it was such an awesome moment, can you really blame me?

I seriously meant what I said though. I'd stop thinking about myself so negatively. Instead, I'd think about the positives because, you know what, I kind of like who I am! I like that I fight for my friends. I like that I work hard. I like that I want to be there for my family. Those are the things I should really focus on about myself that I'm proud of. That's what should be important.

Grandma takes me by the hand and tilts her head towards somewhere offstage. There, standing in the doorway is my mom, holding up my ceremonial outfit and flapping the sleeve so it looks like an invisible me is waving.

I seriously can't stop smiling, it's actually starting to hurt.

The Olympian national anthem is being played when Grandma and I make our entrance for the first dance. I have to admit, I clean up nice, especially since I was soaked to the bone a half hour ago. Really, I couldn't be the next king of Olympia and expect to stay at a formal party in bloody jeans.

The crowd has parted to leave the room empty in the middle for me to be the first to start. I bow, just as we rehearsed, and Grandma opens the floor for me to take it.

Old me would probably have peed his pants, but the new Percy has other priorities. A line of girls my age are waiting on the inside of the circle, all equally as pretty as the next, and they all curtsey when I pass them. For the first time, girls are actually wanting me. They watch with anticipation while I scan the line. But I know someone (who is not me) is going to make each of them very happy one day, because I'm looking for someone else.

She's staring at her shoes, apparently expecting me to pick anyone else, but Annabeth looks up when I reach through the crowd and gently take her hand.

A new song picks up and she turns toward me. She puts her hand on my shoulder and I take her waist. We clasp our other hands, and - some things never change - my palms are sweating.

"Sorry," I say, already expecting her to take her hand back.

But she shakes her head and deflects the apology.

Nodding to the beat, I start us going. And I'm amazing. I'm the most graceful dancer ever and it's like a fairy tale! Ha - did you fall for that? Okay, if you did, obviously I haven't been doing my job. Oh man, I got you good!

In all honesty, the waltz was a disaster, but it wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been because Annabeth, this time the one surprising me, started giggling and was - dare I say? - having fun.

Mercifully, the rest of the guests join in and now we're just another couple in the mass of spinning figures.

"Thank you," I say, close enough to hear above the music.

"For what?"

"Not laughing at me."

"Who says I'm not laughing at you?" she asks, smiling devilishly.

I grin. "Oh, I see." Then I get serious. "I do deserve it though. I'm sorry I almost gave up on everything - on you."

Annabeth lets my words hang in the air as she keeps dancing with me.

"You know, I wasn't fair to you either," she says after a moment. "I think I expected you to be like every other prince I've met and how arrogant and snobbish they all are -"

"Hey!"

"And I judged you without really giving you a chance. So I'm sorry too."

I'm trying really, really hard not to blush and I smile.

Annabeth rests her head on my shoulder and suddenly I'm very aware of my whole body, right down to my knee-high leather boots and how my collar is choking the life out of me. She smells like lemons and I'm suddenly filled with thoughts of her and only her. And again, we're the only people in the room.

We're spinning. At least I think we're spinning or the world is doing the work for me.

"Why did you pick me?" she asks.

What a loaded question. "Because I like you," I answer truthfully. "Do you need another reason?"

"I'm not a noble though. You could have any one of them. I'm nobody."

"So am I," I say.

She lifts her head and looks at me, like, really looks at me. She has such steely gray eyes, my heart forgets to beat and then goes into overtime. It's running a marathon to the moon and back.

For half a second my brain tells me what's gonna happen next. She's gonna kiss me. I'm gonna get kissed. Oh God, what do I do? All alarms are blaring, preparing me to react. The second lasts forever.

She closes her eyes and then I do too and lean in. We connect and-

I miss her lips.

I snap my eyes open and flush. Abort mission. Operation failure. Retreat! It's suddenly very warm and Annabeth watches me with a small smile. She closes her eyes again and helps me out. She puts her lips on mine, and they're so unbelievably soft, I practically melt to the floor.

For my first kiss, I'd like to rate this ten out of ten - would recommend. Except no! I'd really rather Annabeth didn't show off how good of a kisser she is. Because I admit I would get really jealous. I may be a prince, but I'm also human.

Now I'd like to say that Annabeth and I got married and had tons of babies after all this happened but she'd kill me if she found out that I made any of that up because we're 1) still just dating 2) fifteen and 3) not insane. I've got a whole country to think about now. No time for weddings or babies or any of that nonsense. (I still think she's a spy. Shh, don't tell her I said that.)

We're just beginning our descent into Olympia in my private jet right now - I know! Sweet, right? - and I should probably let you get on with your day. I can tell you're bored with the whole thing right now since this was just one long Life Brag.

But here's the lowdown after the party:

I did end up buying mom her own penthouse. It looks out over Central Park. Swanky. Oh, and she doesn't need to work at Sweet on America anymore. I bought the company, so now she runs the place.

Grover is always welcome to visit in Olympia. He's actually here right now! Wave hi, Grover! You can't see him, but he just waved. He was pretty mad that I didn't tell him about all this right away, but he quickly forgave me when I hooked him up with his own limo and driver in New York.

And Grandma made me mop the floors after I tracked all the mud inside when I crashed the party. But hey, she's my grandma. She can do that to a prince.

I gotta go now though, but one last thing real quick:

I'm still Percy Jackson. I'm still a kid from Manhattan. I'm still like every other tenth grader worrying about zits, and algebra quizzes, and staying up way too late playing video games. I still get flustered asking for extra ketchup at restaurants and I still can't dance.

But I'm also a prince - that's just who I am.

And for once, I'm not going to look back.

A/N: Happy birthday, Mari! You asked for it, I delivered. ^.~ At first I expected to make this about 2k, now look where we are. You are seriously my muse and this is the least I could do for you after you've done so much for me. You're so kind and thoughtful and smart and friendly, I love having you in my life! Where would we all be without you? Many happy returns!