It wasn't death she was afraid of.

It was the people she would leave behind.

And more than the people – the country, the struggling citizens, fighting against all odds. The work she had been doing for who-knows-how long, risking her life daily, all for the colonies.

All for freedom.

Well, the risking-her-life part had caught up with her, Annabeth thought drily. She could feel her hands, tied behind to a tall pole used only for this purpose. She had walked through the town square so many times before, shuddering at the thought of people dying at the mercy of the firing squad, tied to that pole.

And now she was the one about to be executed.

You knew the risks, she told herself. You knew, if you got caught, this would be your punishment. It was almost funny, really. Now that she was the one facing those muskets, it didn't seem so bad. It would all be over in a few minutes, anyway, and then she would be gone.

This will be my freedom.

The officer, sitting on his sleek brown mare, sounded bored as he listed the charges. "Annabeth Chase has been accused of spying, an act of treason against her country. She has been sentenced to death on the day of February 8th, 1776, as punishment for her crimes."

The crowd around the square grew larger. Men, women, even children watched in silence as the execution continued. Some – Patriots, Annabeth guessed – looked outraged. A few women were even crying – although that might have been from seeing a woman being shot. Others, Loyalists, looked cold and indifferent, but even they seemed to be uneasy with the execution of a female. Annabeth guessed that to the men of either side, women were incapable of being smart enough to commit treason against the crown. Probably they thought she had been simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.

The thought made Annabeth's blood boil. She had not simply been an innocent bystander. No, if she was going to die, it would be for her true country. The colonies. The uncountable days and months she had been part of this rebellion would mean something when she died. She had been caught spying to save her country, and that was what she was dying for.

The drums began to sound, their rumble counting down the seconds until her life would end. Annabeth looked defiantly into the eyes of the red-coated soldiers, their muskets at attention. As one unit they lowered the guns to their shoulders, and Annabeth found herself staring down six endless black holes. She wished, for a moment, that they had blindfolded her like so many other prisoners, but then she brushed the thought off. She wasn't going to die like a coward. She would look into their eyes until the moment the bullets hit her.

The drums grew louder. She wanted to shut her eyes desperately, but she kept them open. Soon it would be over. Soon she would be free.

Ten seconds until she would die. Nine seconds. Eight. Seven.

Six fingers moved to the triggers.

Annabeth finally closed her eyes.

The drums stopped.

•

Two years earlier

- March 14th, 1774 -

Annabeth pushed a blond curl into her mob cap exasperatedly as she skipped down the busy market street. March had come, and with it a lot of rain. She shielded her eyes from the cold drizzle, her red wool cloak falling down her arm. She dodged the rich elderly men and the poor venders honking their wares, the red-coated British soldiers, the busy women doing their daily shopping and the little children squealing in the rain as their mothers tried in vain to keep them dry. Pulling the edge of her cloak over the wicker basket she carried, she did her best to keep the food inside dry.

Within minutes she had gotten to the door of a little shop. Stepping inside, she breathed deeply of the millions of scents assaulting her nose. The spices and clean cloth and tea and new wood and a hundred other things blended together to create the unique smell of her father's shop. The bustle of people crowded inside, doing their shopping and catching up with the town gossip at the same time, was warm and familiar. This was where she felt like she was at home.

Annabeth quickly pushed through people standing in line to the front counter, then stepped behind it. "Hello, Luke," she greeted the young man working at the front counter.

"Hello, Annabeth," Luke replied, flashing a grin. "What brings you to the shop today?"

Annabeth rolled her eyes. "Father forgot his dinner. Again."

Luke laughed, wrapping a length of cloth in brown paper and handing it to the woman at the front of the line. "Of course he did. You know, I believe he just likes having you come to the shop."

Annabeth grinned, sneaking a stick of molasses candy from a large jar. "I think so too. Not that I mind getting away from Matthew and Robert once in a while. They seem to grow louder by the day!"

"Not that this rain helps," Luke agreed, glancing to the window. The dismal grey sky seemed to pour out water, as though weeping.

Annabeth nodded. "Yes, they have been asking all day to go outside, but Mother won't let them because she's afraid they'll catch cold."

He laughed. "I doubt that you'll enjoy them more if they were sick, though, so perhaps it is a good thing."

"Annabeth!" interrupted her father, coming into the front room. "Now, I wonder why you're here?"

Annabeth giggled. "Father, you forgot your dinner again. Here," she said, handing him the slightly damp basket. "And Mother says she's making roast lamb for supper tonight, so you should come home. And Thalia will be there…" she hinted loudly, glancing over at Luke.

His cheeks slightly flushed as he quickly wrapped up another package for a customer. "Since I currently reside with your family, I will be there for supper, Annabeth."

Annabeth grinned at her father, who grinned back. They both knew that Luke and Thalia fancied each other, and she and her father both tried to get them together as much as possible. At twenty-one, Luke was a handsome young man, and many girls fancied him, but he only had eyes for Thalia.

"Well, I probably should be getting back," Annabeth said abruptly. "It looks as though the rain is slowing down some."

"Good-bye, sweetheart," her father said with a smile. "And thank you for bringing my dinner!"

"You're welcome, Father," she answered, grinning. "Bye Luke!"

"Farewell, Annabeth," he answered, waving as she headed out the door.

She pulled her hood over her head as she went back outside. The rain had, indeed, slowed, but only slightly. It was hard to see through the mist and drizzle, but Annabeth finally had gotten past the still-busy market and onto a quiet street that led to her home. Her eyes shielded from the rain and trained on the soggy cobblestones, she didn't notice someone coming from the opposite direction until it was too late.

"Oomph," Annabeth gasped as she stumble backward. She struggled to her feet, ignoring her soaked cloak and muddy dress, and ran to the figure sprawled on the cobblestones. "Excuse me, sir, are you all right?"

The man got to his feet rather stiffly. Annabeth notice how the brim of his hat was pulled over his eyes, shielding his face, and his voice seemed to be muffled.

"I'm terribly sorry, miss. Wasn't watching were I was going because of this blasted rain," he said, pulling his cloak tighter. His voice sounded young, though muted. Annabeth wondered why the collar was pulled over his mouth and nose, as though he was hiding his face. She brushed off the thought; this was Boston, after all. Although the British soldiers patrolling the streets and standing at every corner were annoying, Annabeth was sure nothing got past them. If this young man was dangerous, he wouldn't be here.

"It's perfectly all right," she answered, curtsying politely. "I must be going home now. Again, I apologize."

"Fine, fine," he muttered, and continued down the street. Annabeth shook her head. Strange.

She was about to move on her way when she saw something glint on the ground. She picked it up curiously. It was a strange thing, almost like a tiny pair of Dr. Franklin's new bifocals. She shook her head, but knew it was the strange young man's.

"Sir! Sir, you dropped something," she called, beginning to run down the street but stopping when she remembered how it wasn't ladylike. Now that she was sixteen, her mother had enrolled her in lessons for how to be a proper young lady, and running certainly wasn't appropriate.

He turned around. "I'm sorry?"

"You dropped this," she said, showing him the tiny pair of bifocals.

The young man's face paled, and he reached for the small silver piece. For just a moment, Annabeth could see his eyes, bright and sea-green colored. Then the moment passed, as he quickly snatched the charm and stuffed it into his pocket, the hat falling down over his eyes again.

"Thank you, miss," he said hurriedly. "Now I really must be going."

And with that, he turned the corner and was gone, leaving Annabeth to wonder what in the world had just happened.

A/N Hi guys! So I've had this idea in my head for a long time and am finally turning it into a story. So now I have to decide whether to switch POVs between Percy and Annabeth every other chapter or not. (I'm horrible at deciding. :D) So you guys decide for me! Please tell me if you want it to switch back and forth or just stay in Annabeth's POV for the whole story.

Anyway, please review, tell me what you think, and decide what POV you want this in! Feedback is ALWAYS appreciated. Thanks so much!

WM