A/N: I own nothing. Enjoy!

Wind whipped at his hair, but Percy didn't care. The moment he stepped onto his ship, he felt a part of him stirring. There was nothing like being on the seas, feeling the sun tanning the skin and wind swirling the air. Even more so when the seas were rough, slapping at his ship with waves only for the ship and her sailors to emerge unscathed. The Iron Maiden stayed true to her name.

Percy scowled at the sails, where rope was flapping about through the ripped grommets. His men tried to bring the cloth to obedience to no avail.

"We're trying to get the sails done to resew the grommets, but the winds are making it hard," Calen excused himself. "When we tried earlier, the gales just about ripped off another few grommets. We were worried that the sails were going to fly off into the seas."

Percy ignored the excuses of his second mate. Pity his first mate, Tyson, wasn't here. Tyson was currently on vacation in the Atlantis Empire and would meet the crew when they headed back home. If Tyson was here, he would have kept a vigilant watch on the ship. Percy liked to run a tight ship, and Calen was not contributing to that tightness. Calen was a good fighter, but he had his weaknesses, hence being only a second mate.

The Earl stepped closer to the grommets, observing the damage done. Were there no storm, new grommets could be easily attached and the sails restitched or even replaced. The voyage could have started that night, storm or no storm.

Something caught his eye. He had become a runaway at the age of twelve, spending over a decade on the sea as a cabin boy to becoming a captain before the Olympian Kingdom called for allies in their war. Those ten years of experience accumulated to where he could tell just how exactly a ship was damaged.

Sails were made of tough cloth, unrelenting in the face of wind and sun. The grommets themselves were custom-made on his orders, forged to repel rust from abrasive salts of ocean spray and pelting rain. So how did a few drunken sailors tear his sails when most storms would have tough trouble doing?

There were two different kinds of tears, Percy noted. One type was ragged, far above the second type, undoubtedly from when his men had tried to lower the sails to repair them. The frayed nature of the cloth would have been caused by the ravaging powers of the wind.

But it was the second kind of damage that Percy was interested in. The rip was much straighter, as though someone had deliberately taken a knife to the sails.

Being in the throes of drunkenness could cause people to act in strange and uninhibited ways. But Percy doubted there would be any reason for drunk sailors to sabotage a ship, in particular a ship that paid their wages. He knew he paid his sailors fair and square for the tough work on the seas. Aside from the new sailors, they were all men he trusted.

Someone did not want them to head to the Atlantis Empire.

"Calen." Percy said quietly. "Where the hell are these new hires now?"

Something crawled up his skin like a centipede. It was these instincts that had him survive so many years out in sea and in war. Marital bliss had not dulled those instincts.

He heard the twang of a bow being drawn.

"Men, arm yourselves!"

Percy drew his own sword, just in time to cut down an arrow that would have pierced his eye. Beside him, Calen yelped as an arrow lodged itself in his shoulder.

Swearing like a sailor, Percy slashed another arrow aimed at him. Intruders garbed in black swarmed the ship. They were dressed to blend in the darkness of the night.

Thanks to his alarm, most of his men had time to dodge and pull out their swords. Only a few casualties had occurred. Percy felt his gut twist. His sailors were his comrades, his friends whom he had fought alongside many battles. To see them fallen brought back memories of other friends, other brave fallen warriors who sacrificed their lives to protect the people they cared about.

"Are you all right, Calen?"

Calen groaned, pressing against his wound. "Not as bad as it looks. At least it's not my good shoulder. I recognize some of them. They're the new sailors we hired." The second mate pulled out his sword, wincing as he did so.

"No, Calen. I need you to go back to the hotel and get Annabeth somewhere safe. Go."

"Yes, Captain!" Calen ducked behind some barrels and vaulted off the ship.

Just his luck, Percy groaned inwardly. It was a good thing he kept up with his training even after the war had ended.

He side stepped a burly man, knocking aside the assailant's club. One quick stab and the stranger rolled off his blade, dead. Percy hoped his soul would be banished to the Underworld.

Another arrow whizzed by his ear. Really, that archer was being quite annoying. Percy had no use for the bow and arrow himself, being a terrible archer. He spotted the archer in the far side of the ship, hidden by a few boxes of supplies.

What the archer did not expect was for Percy to throw his sword at the boxes, causing the topmost box to topple on his head. It wouldn't kill the archer, Percy reasoned, but it would put him out of commission until Percy or another one of his sailors could get to him.

But now he was without a weapon temporarily. The Earl ducked just as another assailant tried to sneak up behind him. A broadsword flashed over his head, barely missing his hair. That was not how he planned to have his hair cut. There were barbers trained to do that.

Good thing was that broadswords were heavy and slow. Bad thing was that if Percy mistimed anything, the sword would slice through his limbs like a warm knife through butter.

Percy jumped to the side, just as the assailant swung his sword again, the tip just nicking against skin. Percy winced as a lick of pain flashed against his cheek. His attacker must have thought victory was at hand as he tried for another attack.

The broadsword clattered to the ship's deck as Percy's sword stuck through his gut. Percy pulled out his sword, not bothering to watch the attacker's body fall to the floor.

His sword, Riptide, was magical. No matter where Percy threw the sword or lost it, the enchanted bronze sword would always appear back in his scabbard in a few seconds.

After that, Percy lost track of how many attackers he had either slashed or stabbed at. Bodies littered his previously clean deck as Percy worked through the assailants, clearing out the filth.

How he hated having blood stain his expensive ship. When he found out whoever was behind this attack, he was going to have them pay for a new deck as well as with their heads.

His green eyes darkened in bloodlust, driven by the pure goal of eliminating each and every one of his enemies until they were dead at his feet. This was the side of him he maintained firmly hidden from Annabeth.

No doubt she had already heard of tales about him bathing in the blood of rival soldiers or something to the like. But hearing was different from seeing. He would much rather have his own hands covered with the lives of others than have her sully her own. Annabeth was someone bright and pure, someone who should be untainted. Really, she had been too good for him.

Gods, he hoped Calen got to her in time.

For a moment, everything was silent as all the attackers were deemed dead or captured. Even the archer had been taken down, his bow snapped and a dagger sticking out of his throat.

Then the sound of more men charged onto the ship.

"Hold!" Percy called out. His seasoned sailors fell behind him, swords at the ready.

The new men storming his ship were wearing armor, the metal clanking with every step. His men were already tired from the first assault, but the first wave of attackers had been dressed in cloth, not metal that made it hard for swords to penetrate. Percy's own sailors were wearing mere cloth, suited for working on the seas.

As the armored soldiers came closer, Percy saw the crest of the Ducaine family stamped on the silver. A black crow with both claws situated on a branch. Baron Rodrick's machinations, Percy thought with disgust. He should have known.

As if on cue, the Baron walked onto the ship, surrounded by his guards.

"Baron Rodrick. How nice of you to join us. Tell me, is this your doing?" Percy seethed. He kicked the body of one of the assailants.

Baron Rodrick threw his head back and laughed, not caring that the body of the hired men slid towards him. "It doesn't matter that you slaughtered the men I planted on your ship. In fact, I expected you to."

"Then, why?"

The baron grinned just as lightning flashed, illuminating his wrinkled face. For a moment, Percy saw the insane madness alight in the baron's eyes. Insane, that was what the baron was. Reduced to a madman or a fanatic.

One of the baron's men stepped forward, holding two limp human shapes at his side. There were tattoos of lines covering the man's arms. Mercenaries, Percy recognized.

Percy's anger surged as he saw who the human shapes were. One was Calen with a nasty head wound dripping blood.

The other...Percy's blood curdled. A woman wearing the same blue dress as Annabeth had been earlier, with her arms tied behind her back and her head covered with a sack. She fell to the floor, still and not moving.

"I thought you being a soldier would have recognized this simple military strategy. It's called a distraction. Say hello to your lovely wife, Earl Perseus Jackson."

"Release her," Percy spat. "Or else I'll disconnect your head from your shoulders."

Gods, let her be alive, he prayed. There was just the tiniest movement of her chest falling up and down. She was still breathing, and a glimmer of hope rose in him.

"Ooh, feisty, just like this whore here."

Percy would have charged forward right then and there for his wife's honor had not the tattooed man pressed his sword point to Annabeth's neck. Shit. There was a trickle of blood from where the point had dug too far. His sight turned scarlet with rage. Annabeth, his lovely, intelligent wife, had been taken right under his nose. And now she was hurt, and it was all his fault for not being able to protect her.

"Not so soon, Your Grace. I'd drop your sword if I were you, unless you want a headless wife." The baron cackled. "You can have her back, once I'm done with her. But then I don't think you'd have much use for a dirtied wife. After all," Baron Rodrick sneered. "You'll be dead as well."

Percy fingered the hilt of his sword, going through the options of just how to bury his sword in the baron's soft, cowardly flesh. "Tough words from someone who was beaten by a lady who has never gone through military training. Does your men know that?" Percy called out. "That their master is a coward who goes back on his word and harms the innocent? That Lady Annabeth beat him in a duel?"

"Shut up!" Baron Rodrick hissed. "Or the bitch gets her throat slit!"

The baron yanked Annabeth to her feet, pulling the dirty sack off of her face. Blonde curls fell loose from the sack, covering the girl's face.

Everyone on the deck stilled tensely whereas the winds did not. A particularly strong gust of wind blew the curls masking the girl's face, tugging at the blonde hair. The mercenary with the tattoos did the rest of the work, pulling harshly until the blonde wig fell off to the deck with a small plop.

All those on board stared at the wig, while Baron Rodrick's mouth dropped open.

"Well, now I suppose I don't have to go easy on you," Percy said scathingly.

He brushed his fingers against his emerald ring, trying to send a message to Annabeth. She had to be safe. Had to be.

"Now, where the fuck is my wife?"

A/N: What's better than one cliffhanger? A second one! Hope you've enjoyed this chapter, and see you next time Jan 12, 2021 (haha lets make everyone wait a whole year)!

As to whether Percy and Annabeth are being safe, well, I don't think they had many effective birth control options in the medieval era, particularly in an era where women were unfortunately reduced to just popping out babies during marriage. But definitely in my stories set in the modern world, you'll see them be safe.