Chapter Nine
Land
Percy Jackson was having a terrible fucking day. Granted, it had been a shitty week in general, ever since the girl arrived—Lady Chase. But this day in particular, for some strange reason, had the captain clenching his fists and grinding his teeth, struggling to endure.
It had all started with a rude awakening.
"Captain?" a bemused voice asked, breaking him from his slumber.
"Yes," the dark-haired man had snarled, his head rising with a jolt.
"What are you doing up here?" his crewmate asked, his eyes scanning the surrounding area.
"Captaining the ship," Percy answered sharply, his voice silencing any further questioning. "Why aren't you at your post," he turned the questioning, fixing the boy with an accusatory stare.
"I was asked to inform you that we've spotted land. It should take a few hours, but we will arrive in Montania shortly," he explained, sheepishly kicking at nothing with his feet.
"Good," the captain ground out stiffly, ignoring the aching knot in his neck. "We're on schedule then."
The crew member nodded, his posture still somewhat shaken, before turning swiftly on his heel and scurrying away.
Percy took a deep breath, trying to calm his scattered thoughts. They would arrive at Montania before , where he had originally planned to dispose of their mysterious prisoner—except, she wasn't really a prisoner. She had a job, a bed, a room. Gods, she was allowed more privacy than any other passenger aboard their ship.
Percy knew that was no one's fault but his own. He had allowed her to infiltrate his mind, to wrap her tendrils across the expanse of his brain. As a result, he had lost the upper hand and desperately needed to reclaim it. Annabeth had been on his ship for almost a week, and he'd spent every day carefully measuring her steps, calculating her movements. She was hiding something—more than something. She was hiding everything.
He could not—would not—let her leave knowing she had beat him. He had long ago promised himself he would never suffer a loss to the crown again.
His father. His mother. He was not inclined to add his pride to the list—in fact, he vehemently rejected the idea.
No, he could not let her go. He needed more time. A few more hours to show her, to prove himself.
Percy exhaled shakily, his fingers curling around the dark wood of the ship's wheel. His fingernails dug savagely into the timber, violently splintering the grain in an attempt to push a pervasive thought from his head, a sneaking suspicion that there were other reasons he soured at the notion of surrendering the blonde.
There was something about her, something mysterious and brilliant lingering just below the surface, something beautiful and violent shadowed behind the harsh gray of her eyes, a treasure waiting to be uncovered—and he'd be damned if he allowed her to leave without having uncovered her secret.
Perhaps he should have realized that it wasn't a question of permission. It never was when dealing with her.
OoOoO
"This is my exit, I assume," Annabeth prompted when he stopped her. Her eyes flickered to the landscape behind him, but her expression remained indifferent.
"Actually," Percy deterred, "there has been a small change of plans." He watched as the small group of pirates readying the ship for the dock turned their eyes, their interests piqued. He would need a decent excuse for keeping her here, one that didn't involve his own curiosities.
"Elaborate, Captain," the blonde said, her eyes narrowing in suspicion.
"Come with me," Percy directed. Turning his back to her, he began stalking towards his living quarters. As much as he craved the return of his bed, he found his curiosity overpowering him.
The captain did not stop moving until he was standing before his bed. He heard the door shut behind him and turned slowly, surprised to find her looking perfectly agreeable. He slid his tongue over his teeth, sizing her up. He knew she would fight. She always did.
"What is the change of plans?" Annabeth reiterated, meeting his eyes.
"You are clearly keeping secrets," Percy explained, taking a long stride in her direction. He faintly registered when she matched his movement. "I have known since your very first day that you are lying about your position, about your intentions, and I have reason to believe you have even provided me a false name."
"Is that so?" Annabeth asked, her lips curling into a mocking purse. "Does Annabeth Evans not suit me?"
"In the wake of said lies," the captain continued, ignoring her jab. "I'm afraid I cannot allow you to leave the vicinity as you may share valuable intel with our enemies."
"I'm dangerous," the blonde smiled, taking a long step towards him—or perhaps she took two, he couldn't be sure as her skirt covered the length of her. "Becuase I keep secrets?" She scoffed, and the sound curled around his impulses, spurring him forward, sending heat into his veins. "Pathetic," she laughed.
"You and I both know—"
"Do you suppose pirates don't keep secrets as well?" Annabeth continued, dismissing his interruption. She took another step towards him, he saw the crescent of her shoe this time and in doing so noted her brazenness.
"I never—"
"Do you believe your crew is forthright with you, Captain?" The way her tongue curled around the title was so full of distaste, so full of mocking, he wished she wouldn't use it.
"They may not disclose to me the every detail of their day," Percy growled, tilting his head down to sweep his gaze over her face when he spoke. She was close enough now that he could see his breath brush back the loose golden curls framing her face. "But they are honest when the matter is significant."
"Perhaps," Annabeth allowed. She paused, watching him with careful eyes. She was hiding something. She was always hiding something. "And do they know you lie to them, Captain?"
Percy's heart stopped—then it started again, but the pace was unbearable. Despite the inner turmoil, however, he was silent at her inquiry.
"Do they know—I wonder," she rephrased, a fleeting look of triumph brushing her fine features, "that their beloved Captain lies to them every day?"
She was too close. He could feel the heat radiating from her body, could see the fire burning in her eyes, could feel the flames that accompanied her every word. She was too close, in more ways than one.
"What are you talking about?" Percy rumbled through gritted teeth, his muscles tensing beneath the light fabric of his top.
"I told you not to underestimate me, Captain," Annabeth hummed, her heated exhale tickling his lips.
She was so close, much too close.
"You notice my inconsistencies,"—fuck fuck fuck—"and I notice yours."
"And what," Percy snarled, trying to keep his nerves hidden, "do you suppose are my inconsistencies?"
"You speak with a certain lilt to your words," the blonde expounded. "You elongate your vowels in particular words."
Percy remained silent, his lips pressed firmly together, awaiting her conclusion.
"It's not uncommon among pirates, especially as the majority of them originate from Atlantis." She smiled again, the sight was positively unnerving. "Why then, Captain Jackson, does your crew believe you are fromMontaria?"
"I must have picked it up along my journeys," Percy dismissed with a sneer. She had nothing. She had found nothing. She—
"Moreover," she ignored him. "Your diction is quite... odd."
"Well forgive me, Evans," he growled. "If my education is not to your royal standard."
Annabeth laughed. The sound was hollow. It made his blood run cold.
"Quite the opposite, Captain. When you speak, you slip in and out of educated language. You speak as if it is your native tongue, but you bury it beneath rough ineptitude—or attempt to at least."
"Is that all?" Percy mocked, praying she would not continue, praying she had not thought over the implications of her discoveries, knowing she probably had.
"No," Annabeth remarked lightly with a lip of her lips. "But it's all for now."
"I thought you were never to reveal your deck," Percy challenged, purposefully referencing a lowly game of skill and luck.
"You aren't," the blonde agreed with a deviant curve of her mouth. "Not until the end of the game, anyhow."
He parted his lips, hot breath spilling and mingling with hers. Her stormy eyes shone brightly in the dimly lit room. The starting color almost managed to distract him from the question at hand.
Poker was a game of pirates, of rapscallions and scoundrels. How was it, then, that a Lady to the crown knew the game?—much less presented rules with such confidence?
"And you believe this game to be over?" the captain questioned, realizing he had been silent for far too long.
She was wearing a smug expression. He felt a sudden desire to make it disappear. He tried to step forward to intimidate her but quickly realized there was no more room; the pair was toe to toe. And while he couldn't step any closer to her, he could lower his face to hers, he could watch her swallow thickly as his words washed over, he could revel in the impact of his presence.
"Oh, Captain," she cocked her head, recovering quickly—"Percy"—and casting him a look of success. "This game has been over since I stepped onto this ship."
Percy was afraid in that moment. A shudder wracked his body at her words—or perhaps it was the sound of his name falling from her lips in nothing more than a conspiratory whisper—he didn't have time to dwell on the issue as a glimmer of something silver caught his eye. His gaze snapped to her hand. She held a silver tipped quill, looking quite pleased.
Then he laughed, loud and boisterous at her arrogance. He reached for the pistol at his waist only to find a small hand already there. He looked up, bemusement momentarily tinging the green of his eyes.
She smiled—big and wide and brilliant, like he had never seen before—and he decided—in that terrifying, unending second—that she was quite beautiful when she smiled
OoOoO
"Why—" Thalia sighed, rolling her eyes, "are you asking me?"
"It seems you are the only one privileged enough to know what the captain is thinking," Sam snapped, his fingers curling into fists beside him.
"Sorry," she dismissed him, shrugging mockingly. "He hasn't said anything to me—and even if he did, I would never betray his trust like that."
"You have to know something," Sam pressed, cutting in front of her, his body blocking her movement. "He's been following her around like a pet. It's fucking pathetic," he spat.
"Watch your mouth!" Thalia barked, taking a sharp step towards the pirate. "If I hear you speaking badly of the captain one more time, it'll be the last word you speak."
"Your loyalty is admirable, Thalia," he countered. "It's a pity you waste it on people like him."
"That's not your decision to make," the dark haired girl growled. "It's mine."
"Fine," Sam agreed through gritted teeth. "But something needs to be done about the girl. She walks around like she owns the fucking ship. She disrespects the crew with her fucking presence."
"You're exaggeratting—" Thalia scoffed loudly, crossing her arms over her chest.
"No," he cut her off curtly. "I assuredly am not." He stalked towards her until they were almost nose to nose. "And if it continues," he hissed, "then I will be forced to take care of her myself."
"Don't you dare interfere—"
"I will do what is needed," he continued. "In order to ensure the survival of the Argo II."
"I assure you, the captain knows what he's doing," Thalia flashed.
"Sorry if your word isn't enough anymore." Sam's nostrils flared dangerously, his eyes scanning her body in distaste. He began to turn but before he could make it far, Thalia grabbed him by the collar, spinning him around.
"The way you speak," she warned, her eyes glistening darkly. "You sound like you might just be a threat to this ship and its crew. If that turns out to be true—well," she laughed, enjoying the look of fear that flittered across his irises. "You already know what we do to traitors around here."
OoOoO
"They say the quill is stronger than the sword," Percy remarked, anxiously watching her barely-there movements out of the corner of his eyes. "But I don't think this is what they mean."
"You'd be surprised," Annabeth whispered, her hand slowly trailing up his side, tracing the sharp lines of his torso before reaching his jaw. "What I can do with just a few seconds." She slid the feathered end of the quill across his stubble, her eyes fixating on the bob in his throat and the shift of his gaze.
It just barely flickered, the inclination was so small she almost didn't notice it, almost didn't catch the dip that inarguably, inexplicably landed on her lips.
She should have attacked him then. She should have taken advantage of his momentary lapse in judgment and concentration to strike—but she didn't.
Instead, she remained frozen, dazed by the heat rushing through her. It was hot hot hot, but more importantly, it was new. She had never felt this heat coiling inside her, this toxic knot curling in her lower abdomen. It was—it was new and it was unfamiliar and—
No, it wasn't.
It absolutely wasn't.
But it was the reason she wasn't prepared when he extended his arm and caught her by the wrist. It was the reason he was able to pin her arm holding the quill to her chest. He smiled then, and she was taken aback by the surprisingly pleasing curve of his lips.
No—
She leaned forward, pressing her chest to his. She felt him gasp and fought a smile, parting her lips and allowing her hot breath to sweep over his stunned expression. In the same second, she flicked her free hand, dismantling his grip and taking hold of his pistol. Her fingers had barely wrapped around it when he realized when what was occurring.
Percy tightened his grasp on her wrist and it caused her to jerk her body. The weapon fell to the floor with a clatter. She caught his eye, watched his mind whirring behind the glaze of his eyes.
In a second, he was on the floor, reaching desperately for the pistol. Annabeth lifted her dress, kicking it out of his reach. It skids under the bed. Annabeth watched, assuring herself it was out of reach.
"Argh!" she yelped as a hand wrapped around her ankle. He dragged to the floor and quickly climbed on top of her.
Annabeth wanted to laugh. He was smiling like he'd thought he'd already won. He was underestimating her, again. And he would regret it, again.
She drove her knees upwards, into his groin. She heard him groan and reveled in the deep sound. While his head was bowed before her, Annabeth rammed the heel of her hand into his nose, breathing at the feel of hot blood spilling onto her skin.
"Nrgh!" Percy growled, throwing his arm out blindly and wrapping his fingers around a bundle of curls. He pulled hard, dragging her head back towards him. His vision returned just in time to see the blonde glaring at him, bearing his silver-tipped quill like it was the deadliest weapon on the planet.
OoOoO
"What do you think?" Thalia questioned, fixing Nico with an uneasy look.
"I think he's dangerous," the dark-haired boy replied, his brow furrowed in worry. "But he's not wrong."
"Percy might be acting a bit more... polite," Thalia tried to argue. "But it's not that noticeable, it's not that unlike him!"
"Thalia," Nico sighed, resting his hand on her shoulder in a calming gesture. "You and I both know that's true, but they don't."
"Fuck," she replied and the sound was violent—guttural and gruff. "I told him—I fucking told him, this would only end badly."
"We both know," Nico shook his head softly, his eyes trained on the incoming land, "that they would never have accepted him if they'd known."
"But there's nothing wrong with it," Thalia protested, her voice rising as she spoke, growing in an attempt to match her frustrations.
"Thalia," Nico nudged her, reminding her of their surroundings. They weren't in nearly a private enough setting to be discussing the current matters.
"There's nothing wrong with him," she whispered, meeting Nico's sad gaze.
"I know." He took a deep breath, trying to comfort her with a look, knowing anything else would be more suspicious. "We can't fix what they think," he advised in a quiet voice, his stare scanning the deck, "but we can control what they know."
"Sam will need to be taken care of," Thalia remarked evenly, her harsh demeanor slowly seeping back into her expression.
Nico nodded. "She's leaving today, correct?" he asked.
"That's the plan." She stepped away from the younger boy. "After today, she won't be a problem anymore."
"I'll keep the talk down for the next few hours," Nico informed. "You need to go make sure Percy doesn't do anything else that could cause gossip." He shot her one final grimace. "We can move past this."
OoOoO
"I told you not to underestimate me," Annabeth remarked almost casually as she hooked her heel around the back of Percy's knees, toppling him to the floor. He fell forwards and caught himself with his hands. He turned quickly onto his back and attempted to stand but something slammed into his knees, forcing them back to the ground.
"So you did."
He tried to rise again, but as he glanced upwards to gauge the situation, he found himself momentarily distracted by the way Annabeth fell to her knees in front of him. He watched her with a dangerous fascination as she straddled his hips, her body sliding seamlessly against his, all while she held something cold and sharp to his neck, digging it into his skin.
"I told you it wouldn't be a mistake," she continued and Percy could feel everything. He could feel her pulse racing wildly against his skin, could feel her heart thumping loudly against his, could feel her lungs desperately sucking in air against his chest, could feel her entire body as it brushed precariously, dangerously against his.
"I told you—" Her hair draped around them, the golden curls encapsulating them in the moment, trapping her deadly whispers against him. "That it would be fucking fatal."
Percy had the sense to shiver at her words, at the venom that trickled from her mouth into his, at the violence glinting in her eyes. He wasn't sure why the sight excited him, wasn't sure why it had his blood rushing and his nerves buzzing and his gaze sharpening.
The quill—sharpened, no doubt—pushed into his neck, breaking the skin with a sharp sting.
He realized, of course, that this might be his last sight—that those might be the last words he'd hear—that this might be the last day he'd live. And, as shitty as the day had turned out to be, Percy decided, somewhat subconsciously, that maybe, just maybe, the sight of her—this sight—of damp lips and glistening eyes and red cheeks and her, might just be an okay sight to die to.
Then her gaze faltered, her fingers hesitated, her breath hitched—and he smiled, because he knew it wasn't over, not for him, and certainly not for them.
"Can't—" he began but was cut off by the door.
Then came the crash.
a/n: hola yall. So hello. I realize I said this was going to be coming out on a weekly basis, but I honestly think that's a pipe dream. Also like, I've finally reached the chapters where my prewritten shit runs out and like, yes it was shit, but it was a starting point. Still though, since my summer is off to a boring start, I should have plenty of time to write.
Also, I know this is a bit short and might sway a little from the usual format bc I switch from Percy's pov to Annabeth's pov and then go back to Percy's pov (also there's like the Thalia stuff), but yeah. I just happened and I didn't want to rewrite.
Anyway, so yep. Percy's keeping secrets too. Ooooo. Whatever will happen next? lol, okay anyway, the secrets will start coming out in the next few chapters.
This chapter is dedicated to FlyingShoes135 because they leave very kind reviews that make me smile :)
iCiao!
