A/N: I was extremely disappointed by the number of people who rejected my ending. This is why.
Yes, the romantic part of this story provided me a level to start a war. But in all, it was war focused. I killed both Annabeth and Percy in a moment of mercy, I was only going to kill one, but could you imagine one without the other? The message I wanted to get across in this was, not everyone you love comes back. From someone who has watched their mother almost die more than once, I cannot begin to explain the pain you feel when someone you love is gone. War will never end without a casualty, and in this case it was the story's main characters, who you loved the most. I'm sorry for my rant, and extremely grateful for all the nice reviews, thank you all so much. Enjoy the epilogue, because it's really the end!

Clara smirked as her three year-old son managed to poke Jonathon in the eye.

Percy was squealing with laughter. He clearly found it hilarious. She'd married one of the toughest men in the entire city, yet he was blinking back tears inflicted by an infant.

"Mummy!" Percy shouted. He pointed at Jonathon with a triumphant smile on his face.

"Well done, Percy!" Clara smiled, but her smile quickly faded.

Her son was already so much like her dead brother. From birth, he'd had the dark hair and green eyes of the royal blood. Jonathon's porcelain skin had broken through somewhere, but the resemblance to her brother shone out of the child like the sun.

It wasn't just Percy's looks either. Clara's son was wildly defensive of his little sister, and wouldn't let anyone come near her if they looked like a threat. It made Clara think back to when she and her brother were kids, and Percy would protect her from the bullies and such throughout the kingdom.

Lazily, Clara pulled herself out of the imposing chair in the Grand Hall, and walked past Jonathon and Percy, sweeping up baby Florence on her way past. Jonathon shot her a worried look; Clara just smiled tiredly and kept walking.

Florence wriggled in her arms; Clara began gently rocking the baby. She'd refused all help from the nannies and maids. She wanted to raise her children on her own, the way she wanted to. Clara's mother had stood beside on this, and who could refute a—at the time—recently crowned Queen and a grieving widow?

Clara flinched at the memory of her father's death, almost four years ago now. He'd died shortly after Percy and Annabeth. Clara's mother insisted it was the grief. Not that her mother had been around a lot after that; she'd sunk into a depression that had only been awakened by the birth of her grandson a year later.

So Clara had been left the crown, if she could find a husband. And the obvious choice had been Jonathon. Clara had grown to like him since she'd been rescued from Luke's camp, and found he was the only person she could trust.

Gently, Clara laid Florence onto her own double bed; Florence barely slept in her crib. Florence gurgled happily, oblivious to the sadness her mother felt. Clara had wanted to call her daughter Annabeth, but Jonathon had told her that their son deserved to find his own Annabeth. Clara, already worn down from pregnancy, had nodded and chosen Florence as an alternative.

The city had rejoiced at the news of Clara's first pregnancy, after all the terrible news regarding the war and consequent deaths.

An overwhelming urge to see them overtook Clara, and she swung Percy's old cloak over her shoulders, wrapped Florence in another blanket, then carried the squirming child down to the graveyard.

Slowly, Clara knelt at the foot of Percy and Annabeth's joint grave.

"This is your uncle and auntie." She said quietly to Florence.

"Uncle Percy was the best big brother ever. I'd always wanted the throne, but not like this. You know how stubborn Mummy is, how she gets what she wants. Well, I would give up everything except you and your brother to get Uncle Percy back. I didn't want to let anyone else have him. But after Annabeth saved my life I couldn't really say no, could I?" Clara snorted.

"But," Her voice dropped to a whisper, "I saw how much they loved each other. I never thought I'd get that, but your Daddy is the best." Clara stared into Florence's bright blue eyes.

"I want you to be like Annabeth, but you be careful. And God have mercy on anyone who hurts you because your Daddy will have them dead before they can bat an eyelid. No one will hurt you like Luke hurt us."

Annabeth stood behind the tree, silently watching Clara talk to her baby.

If Annabeth could cry, she'd be in tears. Percy's presence was behind her, and Annabeth knew he'd been there just as long as she had. The two of them rarely left the castle. It wasn't like being a human—Annabeth's body had no real weight. She drifted, not walked. No one could see them but the other dead.

Percy spent a lot of time with his father, developing a relationship they'd never had while alive.

"I think it's time to go." Annabeth whispered.

Annabeth turned to face Percy.

"You mean go?" Percy asked, shocked.

Annabeth nodded and spoke quietly.

"They're fine now. They're all so happy Percy. Don't we deserve to be happy too? You can feel it too. I know you can. That feeling that if you just let go, you'd go somewhere else and wouldn't be able to come back. I know that place will be good, I'm sure of it."

Percy was nodding slowly.

"I just didn't want to admit it. But I think I'm ready." Percy's gaze lifted back to his little sister.

Annabeth turned back to Clara and Florence. Clara was murmuring gentle words, holding the little baby against her chest. Annabeth could see Jonathon carrying his son, walking towards Clara. Wordlessly, he joined them, putting an arm around Clara as he sank down beside her.

"It's all okay now." Jonathon said finally.

Annabeth felt Percy's arm draped around her shoulders.

"Let's go." Annabeth whispered, and she slowly relaxed all of her muscles, turning back to Percy as she did so.

A golden haze was enveloping Percy, distorting his features slightly. He bent down and kissed her forehead.

"I would go anywhere with you." Percy murmured, smiling.

Annabeth felt a flood of happiness inside of her. For the first time since she died, a tear slid down her face. It was hot, and refreshingly human.

Just before they left completely, Annabeth heard Clara's final words.

"They'll always be there for us."