"And now, the man of the hour and his wife; President and Mrs. Julian Masterson!"

Taking their cue, the couple began their descent down the staircase, slowly, surely, with fake, white, smiles posted on their faces. She, wearing a white ball gown, with ivory lace that crept up her neckline, with innocent, conservative pearls draped around her neck. He, with a crisp, clean black tux, that thick head of reddish blond hair of his combed and slicked back. The two, as always, looked calm, collected, tan and beautiful. Just as any successful political couple should. Their eyes, gray and blue, respectively, scanned the crowd with feigned interest.

Parting ways at the end of the staircase, the two began the long line of outstretched hands, shaking, welcoming, greeting with smiles. From various directions, their names were called, signaling their attention to the lens of a photographer's camera for a picture.

"Hey, Annabeth!" Emily, the new first lady's sister-in-law, called, smiling broadly. "Good work, kid!"

"Yes, we're so excited to have won the presidency. Thank you for coming." Annabeth said in a shallow, breathy voice, not seeming to recognize her sister-in-law. It was as if she were in a daze. Tonight, a night she had loathed for weeks, she was tired, in mind and body. Having just given birth to her second child, a difficulty in itself, she had struggled to regain her lithe figure. Struggled to maintain a happy face, struggled to smile for the cameras. And so, tonight, Annabeth Masterson, formerly known as Annabeth Chase, was removed from the situation, removed from life itself.

"What the hell's up with her?" Emily scowled, turning to her husband, Bill, the president's brother. He simply shrugged.

Annabeth had taken a high dose of painkillers that evening. The dose had been so high; some might say it was downright risky, given her unstable health. What did they care, though? They only wanted a gorgeous woman to tell everyone what to wear, what to eat, and where to go on vacation. They didn't want personality. Most definitely not. And certainly not that husband of hers, either.

No, Julian loved her, or at least claimed to. That wasn't to be argued about. But he was just so involved with himself. So…so, inconsiderate of others. Unless, of course, he was trying to get either their vote or their panties. In that case, he cared a whole damn lot.

Julian wanted a perfect, beautiful woman that would support his career, his philandering, his way on life. Julian wanted children, well behaved and handsome. Julian wanted perfection, and nothing less. And, it just so happens, that perfection was what he got.

So, yes, Annabeth worked her ass of in the gym to lose the baby weight, gave herself a healthy dose of painkillers, pulled her unruly blonde curls into the perfect bouffant, put on the perfect dress, and rehearsed her perfect manners. If he wanted perfection, he would get it, and then some.

Annabeth sat through the speeches, clapping when appropriate, smiling when appropriate, and keeping her legs crossed at the ankle the entire time. All the while, though, wondering how, at the ripe old age of 31, she had come to lose her wildness, her personality, her youth, and the qualities that had made her unique. Alas, those questions would have to remain unanswered. She was doing all of this for Julian. Of course she was. Why else? She loved him.

She loved Julian. He was the father of their children. He was the man that could change the country. He was the man that told her he loved her when he got home at night. He was the man that tucked their kids in at night, telling them homemade bedtime stories. He was everything to her, much as she loathed to admit it. He was the earth, the moon, the sun, all the stars in the sky. He was everything.

So she tolerated it. She did. She stuck through it with him, allowing his roving eye to wander. Because she relied on him. And she hated it.

Finally, the night of the inauguration, when the speeches had been made, the toasts had been given, the hands shook and the balls danced, her body surrendered to the overwhelming exhaustion.

She stood from the elegantly silk-draped chair, clutching the arm of a bystander delicately. She nodded as thanks, keeping her head high, her eyes sharp as she maneuvered the crowd to find Julian.

And, there he was, surrounded b a group of political big wigs, enchanting them with humor and wit. He always did. Carefully, she glided up to the group, maintaining a position on the outside, next to her husband.

"Ah, my lovely wife, Annabeth! I've got some friends here that would love to meet you!" He spoke brightly, his attention suddenly focused on her. His eyes shone with pride, though she knew it had to be manufactured.

"Actually, Julian, I believe I have a headache. I think the excitement of the day is getting to me. Would you mind if I were to return home for some rest? I could check up on the children, and…" She rambled, hoping that it would come across as charming. Just as she had hoped, the other men chuckled to themselves, patting themselves on the back for being superior to women, who, in their world, tired easily and were of use only for sex and for meals.

"Ah, you sure about that, Annabeth?" Julian said, his proud smile instantly morphing into a tight, fake one. "You're going to miss quite the ball. Why don't you stay here and find Emily? The two of you love to chatter!"

"Well, Julian, I really am very tired." Annabeth said, hoping her requests would finally be granted. Julian gave a hesitant, hopeless look around the group.

"Sure, sure." He said finally, clearing his throat nervously. "You can go check on the new baby, and rest to your heart's content. I'd rather you be happy and healthy!" He exclaimed, though Annabeth could smell the fake sincerity from a mile away.

"Thank you, Julian, I'm so sorry to leave so abruptly. I shall be here in spirit!" She said pleasantly as she glided away, towards the door.

"Would you care for me to escort you to your car?"

"No, no, I'd much rather you stay here and continue your discussion. Again, my apologies." She stumbled, pasting a smile on her face as she moved away.

''I shall be here in spirit?' What in Hades was I thinking? I've become nothing more than some sappy political wife!' She thought angrily to herself as she walked away. The crowd parted to let her through, some snapping pictures as they did. Annabeth shoved a fake smile on her face.

A Secret Serviceman handed her coat to her as he pulled open the heavy Oak doors, wishing her a happy evening as he did so.

On the patio outside, snow had just begun to fall, and Annabeth pulled the wool around her, dashing to the curb, where a presidential black limo idled. When she reached it, another Secret Serviceman opened the door for her, helping her inside the warm car.

She leaned back against the black leather, sighing gratefully as the car pulled away from the curb. She was allowed a moment's silence before words shattered the quiet.

"Hello, First Lady Masterson." A hand came reaching back from the front seat to shake hands. "I've just been assigned to your detail."

"Oh, well, nice to meet you." Annabeth answered, shaking the hand politely. "Well, you know who I am. May I have your name, please?"

A face appeared in the divider, a man, wearing an earpiece, a fancy watch, and a black suit to match his dark hair. He had tan skin, especially for the month of January, and, to top it all of, green, piercing eyes. From the neck up, alone, he was already handsomer than Julian.

"Jackson. Percy, if you'd like." He answered, giving her a polite smile.

"Well, Percy Jackson," Annabeth said, leaning back against the seat and smirking slightly "I shall call you 'Mr. Jackson'."