I know, I know, I should be working on Accident. But this is somewhat more…interesting. BTW, this has nothing to do with Accident; it's just a little… 'could have been.' And it's my first, rather crappy attempt at third person.

Disclaimer: I don't own Percy Jackson and the Olympians. I hope you know that.

The girl threw herself on the bed, sobs wracking through her slender frame. She buried her face in the silky gray pillow and let the tears flow freely for a minute or two. She collected herself and soon rummaged through the cluttered desk on her right, still crying. Quickly she found a silver framed picture of a boy smiling mischievously at the camera.

"Well? Do you see me now, Percy? And if you did, would you even care? We were best friends; I'd tell you anything. But we were best friends; we aren't any longer. You have all your other friends- Grover, Thalia, Tyson… and Rachel. But we can't be friends, Percy, we can't. I will not be responsible for your death. I cannot be responsible for your death.

"But it still hurts. Remember two years ago, on Olympus, we danced to that song, The Waves of the Danube? I keep playing that song, over, and over, and over—" Her voice cracked and a few more tears made their way down her cheeks silently. "I don't tell you, Percy. I cannot tell you that. I just deal and talk to 'you'." She gestures at the picture a little angrily.

She puts her head on the desk and just sits quietly for a minute.

Behind her, unbeknownst to her, the boy that is in the picture slashed through the Iris-Message, having heard every word she had said.

Two weeks later, on Christmas Day, the girl's family crowd around the lavishly decorated tree. The two little boys exclaim and shriek with delight at their presents. The girl simply smiles weakly at the gifts given to her.

In a minute she asks the others to excuse her, and heads up to her room.

When she enters, there's something different. Not on the small night table, not on the desk—on the bed? Yes, there is a silver box on her sheets, blending in well with the silver of the pillows. There is a light blue stamp on it marked "Hermes Overnight Express."

Her heart pounds; she knows that this could only be from a friend on the other side of her life.

She eagerly picks up the box, and pulls off the tape holding it closed. Inside is a dark mahogany wood box, with a brass key. She twists the key, twirling it this way and that.

The box flies open.

And when she sees what's inside, her heart skips a beat.

A little blond-haired-grey-eyed princess dances with a black-haired-green-eyed prince, waltzing forever to the tinkling melody of The Waves of the Danube.

It was okay; I've just had this idea for a while, and I had to write it down. I don't think this was my best work, but still drop me a line to tell me what you think, please. You can flame if you want, my definition of "Flame" is on my profile.