Dead men tell no tales
by : Finary Lane
Ladies and gentlemen, meet Perseus Jackson, son of the sea god and prisoner to a pirate.
Percy cursed under his breath. Precise knots tied his hands together and strapped him to the mast of the boat. He had no idea where he was. His view was limited to the side of the boat, which presented a surprisingly well polished deck and the sun setting over the horizon in crimson reds. Standing on the edge, an asian woman stared him down, twirling Percy's pen in her hand, the light from the sunset glinting off of its edge like blood.
The salty wind pulled the wind from her face and tugged at the loose pieces of her leather armor. She was beautiful, with squared shoulders and a tempered glint in her eyes. Percy tugged on his restraints fruitlessly. They were tight and minimal: professional. He met her eyes and really looked at her. She looked... odd. Out of place.
She twirled the pen. Maybe she doesn't know it's a sword. The pirate casually uncapped the sword and tested it with professional ease against a shadow opponent. Meanwhile, Percy invented new ancient greek swears.
"You, boy," she said as she parried an invisible strike, "are on my ship. I don't know why or how, but so long as you stay on this ship, you are mine. Understood?"
Percy looked up at her, taken aback and confused.
"When I tell you to do something, you better do it and do it well," she continued. She paused in her shadow sparring. "When a king asks you to jump, you ask how high. When I ask you to jump, you jump, lest you walk the plank."
Percy looked at the sparkling sea behind her. Peaceful waves hid all sorts of creatures beneath the surface. For everyone else on the ship, Percy was sure that walking the plank would be certain death. But for Percy, well... It was freedom. Percy couldn't drown. The nereids and fish would help him. His father, the god of the sea, would help him. But even alone, he had nothing to fear. He was, after all, the son of the sea. Walking the plank would be the best possible outcome to this situation.
"Is that an option?" he asked. "Because if it is, well that would be great."
Anaklusmos' tip was suddenly at his throat.
"If neither the sharks nor the murky depths scare you, then I'll find you a better motivation." The celestial bronze sword gently pierced the skin of Percy's throat. He didn't dare breathe let alone reply for fear of deepening the gash. It was only when she pulled the sword back a few inches that he replied: "Yes, ma'am."
Percy Jackson was not the kind of man who liked being told what to do. He had spent his childhood and teenage years rebelling against nearly every form of authority including the gods themselves. But he was on a ship at sea with all the knots to ajust he could desire and the salty wind in his hair. So he did not particularly mind Captain Bora. And sure, he could start a fight and probably sail on his own somehow to the nearest island. He was a son of Poseidon for Hades' sake; he wasn't going to be stranded at sea. But this was a large ship with a full crew! Twenty-some men and women running the ship like a well-oiled machine. It was refreshing, never before had he run a ship with such a large crew. The pleasure of sailing he had tasted with Annabeth and Tyson was so much stronger aboard a full-sized ship with a complete crew. He wondered if all sailors felt the same as he did, or if it was because of his father.
And... and the work took his mind of Annabeth. They and their son had gone on a cruise. A Disney cruise that amused their son to no end. They had named him after the greatest hero either of them had ever known: Luke. And Luke was beyond happy to go on such a big boat. Although neither of his parents had observed any godly traits in him, he had inherited his parents' love of architecture and of the sea. And if anything, his parents could already how brilliant and witty he was. Sometimes even Percy couldn't find a retort to Luke's clever taunts.
It was a brilliant getaway from America. There was too much bad blood between the gods at the moment, especially between Luke's grandparents. Long story short, Hephaestus had somehow managed to seduce Athena (apparently he'd been asking her out for centuries. Who knew?) which pissed off Aphrodite. So Aphrodite incited Poseidon to make a move on Athena too (Who, it turns out, had always been fighting with Athena due to unresolved sexual tension. Again, who knew?) And that just went very, very badly and resulted in a war between Athena, Poseidon, Aphrodite and Hephaestus that was getting way out of hand.
Poseidon generally presented a calm face, but when he could get angry very easily. The lazy beach waves and the violent hurricanes both belonged to him. He had taken it upon himself to wipe out all of his opponents at this point. And any who stood with them. And their children.
On their third day on the cruise, the ship sunk. The captain couldn't explain why or how, but the water suddnly battered against the ship with a ferocity he had never seen before. The crew panicked and tried all they could to keep the ship afloat. Percy himself tried to keep the boat afloat, but could not wrench control of the waters from his father. He watched Annabeth and Luke drown that day. And he... he couldn't drown. Yet the waters were violent and pulled him deep, ignoring his protests. In the underwater storm, he hit his head and fell unconscious, only to wake up who knew how much later on Captain Bora's ship.
Percy swiped his mop on the deck trying not to lose himself in his thoughts.
"Hey mate," called out one of his crewmates, "Are you alright down there? You've been cleaning the same spot forthe past ten minutes."
Percy blinked in surprise.
"Yeah, sorry. Just a little distracted is all."
The crewmate in question, Tom, raised an eyebrow in disbelief but didn't press any further.
"Anyway," he continued conversationally, "Cap'n Bora is askin' for ya if you aren't busy with anything else." He gave Percy a long look. "Which, ya know, ya aren't."
"But I'm not done-" protested Percy.
"Go," said Tom, " I mean it."
Percy leaned the mop against the railing and straightened out his shirt before heading to the captain's cabin. He knocked twice on the door before Captain Bora called him in.
She looked every bit as beautiful as the day he met her. And her fierce features were now highlited by the flickering flame laying on her desk. She even seemed ethereal, sitting their on her bunk, in her blouse, pants and tall leather boots, her usual armour and coat discarded onto the back of the desk chair.
"Good evening, Perseus," she whispered, barely above the sound of her own breath.
Percy's eyes widened. He had never told her his full name. This was bad.
"Don't look so frightened, Perseus," she purred as she got up from the bed. "I mean you no harm."
"Then what do you want?" he demanded.
"Just...you," she replied.
"And if I didn't want to be here? You threatened me onto this ship, into obeying your orders. What if I truly would prefer death over working on this ship? What if I chose the plank?"
The Captain had the audacity to laugh as she laid a warm hand on his shoulder.
"Then I would remind you, mate, that you are already dead."
Percy froze under her gaze.
"Why," she wrapped her leg around his, "It couldn't be that you've forgotten, could it?"
She looked into his eyes, the flint gray there reminding him of the eyes of Annabeth. And of Luke. But where he was used to seeing exasperation, lust for adventure and brilliance, he saw mockery and amusement.
"Lord Poseidon," she said his title in false reverence, "in his anger against Athena and her children drowned, his only demigod son for daring to associate with them. Hadn't you heard?"
"Everyone on this ship is dead, Perseus. This is a ghost ship. Surely you've noticed by now? This boat isn't of this time and every member lost their life to the sea." She twisted her leg to make his right knee buckle and he fell closer to her. She smelled like dust and seafoam. "Your body lays on the ocean floor, amongst a thousand others."
She wrapped her arms around his unresponsive figure, as if his mind was too preoccupied for his body to react to her touch. "By the time the war blows over, your name will have long been buried in the sand," she breathed low in his ear once again. Percy's ear twitched, the hot breath uncomfortable but not entirely unwelcome. It sent shivers down his spine that made it that much more difficult to process her words. He was...dead?
Bora was so very close to him. Her smooth skin pulled over her strong jaw, and her eyes were so fierce and willful that he could nearly melt under her gaze. They were too much for him, so he looked everywhere else. His eyes traced her thin eyebrows, her unpierced ears. With Bora's leg under his knee, he couldn't help but fall deeper into her. His eyes traced her strong but narrow shoulders and the red lattice showing through her blouse.
"What makes you think I will be forgotten, Captain?" he said, avoiding her gaze.
She looked down at the young man, the young hero she had found in ocean. He wouldn't meet her gaze, so she lifted his chin and truly looked at him. His eyes were the colour she had fallen in love with when she had first set her eyes on the sea, so long ago. They were the colour of the murky depths and of promised adventure that could bring glory or tragedy.
"Because I was forgotten too," she confessed, and Percy saw within her eyes a sadness that had always been there but he had never noticed before. "The dead of the sea never rest, Perseus. We receive no drachmas to be ferried across the Styx. And even if we did, we would never go. There are no seas in the Underworld. Not even on the Isles of the Blessed."
"Ghost ships aren't evil, Perseus. It's just that we would prefer to haunt the seas forever than give up on them." She guided him the few feet to the edge of her bed and he had to grip the edge to keep from falling. Once again, she raised his chin to her.
"The choice is yours: stay here with me and haunt these waters or move on to the afterlife."
Percy looked heartbroken. The afterlife held Annabeth. Luke. The original Luke. All the people he had lost in the wars. But...there was nothing he could do for them. Nothing he could do to make them less dead. He wasn't Nico. He knew Annabeth well enough to know she would be reincarnated. Luke would likely do the same. He didn't know, couldn't know what to choose. It seemed wrong to cheat Thanatos. But for now, he just couldn't go. Not just yet.
He leaned closer to his captain.
"Maybe," he mumbled, imitating her whisper, "I could stay with you. Just for tonight."
He brushed his lips against hers.
"And Captain? Please don't tell anyone about me. I want to start over," he brushed back a strand of her hair. "I'm just Percy, ok? No title. Not hero, not a demigod. Just Percy of... nowhere."
She laughed again, a bell-like sound that hardly fit her persona.
"Don't worry, Percy," she said, "Dead men tell no tales."
And this time, she brought her lips to his.