Disclaimer: All rights belong to Rick Riordan. I take no credit, and I do not mean to break any copyright rules. This is simply a work of fiction made for enjoyment. No money is being made.

Rating: T for dark themes and violence

Author's Note: Hey everyone! I reread both the series last month and got super inspired to write a Percabeth pirate AU, so here you go. (Seriously, I wrote this thing in 3 weeks :3) It's heavily Pirates of the Caribbean inspired, because that's mostly what I know of pirates, and I admit to taking some aspects from that series to add to this one (such as Tortuga, which we'll see next chapter). I also added in a lot of Beckendorf, because he's one of my favs. This is mostly written from Annabeth's POV, but there will be some chapters/segments from Percy's POV. I have the entire story already written, and I will be updating it once a week on Sundays.

I do have one other Percabeth story posted here, however I am currently in the process of completely revising and rewriting it because 14 yr old me was (surprise surprise) not the best writer and I'm in a phase where I'm trying to finish my incomplete works. I will let you know when I have that finished and begin updating it

Chapter 1

Annabeth is almost relieved when the pirates disrupt her wedding.

It isn't that she has anything against her groom - in fact, the groom is probably the only reason she's okay with the wedding in the first place. Lord Luke Castellan is handsome, wealthy, kind, and one of Annabeth's best friends. Since her mother remarried into high society when she was seven years old, she and Luke have gone to all the same social events. Of course, him being older than her by several years, he didn't look at her romantically until the past year, when she came of age and grew into her skin. She'd always had a crush on him, so when he started courting her and finally asked for her hand, there was no hesitation on her part.

No, her groom isn't the issue. It's the timing of it all.

When Luke had asked her to marry him, she'd assumed she'd have time before the actual marriage. High society weddings are extravagant affairs, and she thought it would take six months to a year to plan. She counted on that extra time to...well, she's not sure what exactly, but she thought she could have one last big adventure before settling down and becoming the perfect wife. After all, Annabeth is still fairly young to be married - only nineteen years old. Many women have a couple more years before tying the knot.

But no, her mother and Luke's had set to planning, and three months later Annabeth found herself waking up to maids scurrying around, hastily preparing for her big day.

The maids had rushed her through a bath, cleaning her hair and braiding it up in a fancy updo, dressing her in seven layers of slips and lace and corsets and ribbons. They'd powdered and colored her face and lips and pinched her cheeks for an extra shot of blush. When her mother had entered the room, Annabeth sat on a stool in front of the vanity, feeling more like a doll than a girl.

"You look beautiful, my darling," her mother had said, gently taking her face in her hands. "Luke is a lucky man."

Annabeth thought she was the lucky one, having the chance to marry the only boy she'd ever loved. Her dreams were just hours from becoming reality.

Her mother's eyes were stormy, though, and she pulled up another stoll and sat across from Annabeth, taking her hands in her own.

"I've been waiting to have this discussion with you until your wedding day," her mother said. "But time is running out, and you need to know."

"Need to know what?"

"I have always done my best to impart my wisdom upon you. I have educated you far more than most girls. I have always taught you to think for yourself. You are extremely intelligent, Annabeth, and it will get you what you want. But you must be careful." Her mother rubbed her thumb across her hand. "Luke cannot know how smart you are. No man can know how smart you are. We do not live in a world where intelligence in women is prized. If you aren't careful, you can ruin everything."

Annabeth felt rocked to her core. She'd always known she was smarter than the other girls, but she'd never thought of it as a bad thing. She just thought the other girls were more interested in other things. She never thought it was because no one valued their minds.

She never thought it could jeopardize her relationship with Luke.

"If intelligence is so dangerous, then why did you teach me?" Annabeth asked, trying to blink away the stinging in her eyes.

"Because you are wise as well as smart. And if you are wise, you'll know how to use your intelligence subtlety, like I have. If Luke makes bad decisions, or does things you don't want him to, you can't tell him no. You can't argue with him. It's not your place. You must take control of the situation, learn why he wants those things and then whisper suggestions in his ears. It works best in bed, though eventually you'll learn to do it anytime. You must appeal to what he wants and then influence him to make the decisions you want him to make."

Annabeth stared at her mother, not recognizing the woman she saw in front of her. "That sounds like manipulation," she said.

"It is. But for women in our world, this is the only power we have. You're strong spirited, my dear Annabeth, and this is the only way you'll ever be happy."

Annabeth couldn't wrap her head around it. "But...weren't you happy with my father?"

A shadow passed over her mother's eyes. "I married him for love, yes. But when he died, so did the part of me that sought happiness through love. I married your stepfather for the wealth and privilege that came with him - through him, I could do so much more. I could give you the best life possible. I could be active in the world, make a real difference, even if he's credited with all the glory. I've found a new kind of happiness, Annabeth. Most of all, I'm happy that you can marry a man who will give you both kinds of happiness."

Annabeth dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief. She still didn't believe everything her mother said - Luke knows her, he knows how smart she is, and he's not intimidated by it. He wouldn't turn on her for it. But she did believe her mother about the rest of the world.

"Thank you, Mother," she said, turning her hand over and threading her fingers through her mother's. "Thank you for everything."

Her mother had leaned over and pressed her lips to Annabeth's forehead. "Now we must go. Your groom awaits you."

Annabeth had followed her out to the carriage, which had taken them to Luke's massive coastal estate, where the wedding is to be held. Now she steps out onto the grass and takes in the familiar surroundings. His gardens are right along the sea, not a mile from the bustling port of Chester. The day is warm, the sky blue and without clouds.

The salty smell of the sea sends pangs of longing through Annabeth as she waits by her stepfather's side for their cue. Her mother's words from earlier are still ringing through her ears, but she pushes them back. This is the day she's dreamed about for years; she's not going to let anything ruin it.

Then the small fleet of ships with blood red sails appears out of the distant fog, sailing straight towards the port. At first no one realizes what they are. A few minutes later, Annabeth sees the flash of fire a millisecond before the BOOM of the first cannon rings out.

Her stepfather wraps his arms around her shoulder and turns her away. The wedding guests, many of whom are the lords and soldiers and rich merchants of the city, jump to their feet in surprise. Everyone rushes around, trying to get a good look at the battle. Drivers begin bringing forth the carriages, and ladies and their maids are sent off to the security of their castles and manors while the men head towards the battle.

Luke comes running out of the fray, wearing his military uniform. The wind runs through his short blond hair and the sun reflects off the long scar along the right side of his face - a long line from his eye to his jaw where he'd been caught by the tip of a bayonet while fighting the French a few years ago.

His bright blue eyes soften when he sees Annabeth. He rushes over to her and takes her hand.

"You're all right?" he asks.

She smiles weakly. "It's bad luck to see the bride before the wedding."

Luke's lips twist up in a smile. "Our bad luck has already hit." He lifts the back of her hand to his mouth and kisses it lightly. "I must go. This is but a small delay."

He and her stepfather wave over a carriage and climb in. Annabeth watches as the horses thunder away, down the dirt road leading towards the burning city. Her mother comes up behind her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

"He'll be back," she assures Annabeth.

Neither of them realize that it's the last time Annabeth will see him for a long time.

Annabeth insisted on waiting for Luke outside.

Her mother and Luke's sat inside the manor house, chatting and coming up with a new wedding plan over tea and cakes. Annabeth had grown bored quickly, and excused herself to wait in the gardens.

The crashing waves of the ocean call to her as she sits on the carved wooden bench, bright greens and pinks and yellows surrounding her. She's still wearing her wedding dress, the corset slowly suffocating her. Her hair has taken a bit of abuse from the heavy winds that have blown in and small strands float around her face, but her braids have at least stayed pulled back.

She spins a daisy around between her fingers. The cannons are still thundering in the distance, the wooden buildings and huts blazing. The crack of rifles sound here and there, just loud enough for her to pick up if she strains her ears.

She prays for Luke's safety. He's a decorated soldier, but he almost didn't come back from France last time he went to war. Annabeth had stayed up every night and cried when his letters had ceased coming. She still remembers the relief she felt when she'd finally received another one, this time writing to tell her that he was finally coming home.

Annabeth strains her ears. She stands up quickly and runs out of the garden to the road. A familiar carriage being pulled by two horses she knows well thunders her way, kicking up a cloud of dust behind it. Her heart races in her chest.

Luke is back!

There's a strange feeling in her gut, though. She glances past the carriage and sees the pirate ships still firing on the city. Why is Luke returning early? Is he...did he…?

Horrible thoughts crash into her mind. She frantically shoves the panic aside. No. There has to be a logical explanation for why he's coming back early. She stands by the road, waiting impatiently for the carriage to reach her.

Annabeth is so focused on the carriage that she completely overlooks the driver - not that she ever paid much attention to the servant in the first place. The carriage pulls up right next to her, the horses neighing and stomping their feet agitatedly. Annabeth clasps her hands in front of her and bounces on the heels of her feet in anticipation.

The door opens. Her first thought is that Luke isn't inside. Her second thought is -

"Pirates!" she screams, stumbling backwards. She turns and tries to run towards the house to warn her mother, but strong arms wrap around her from behind and pull her back.

"Now, I wouldn't do that if I were ye," a heavy voice breathes into her ear. She thrashes against the pirate's grip, but it's no use. He's bigger than her and much stronger.

Annabeth counts three pirates inside the carriage, including the one holding her, and a fourth that hops down from the driver's perch. She curses herself for not paying better attention. She's had the luxury of not paying the servants any mind her entire life, but now she realizes how dangerous that kind of thinking is.

The pirate standing across from her runs his tongue over his rotted teeth. "This one's good lookin'," he says, reaching out and stroking her cheek. Annabeth yanks her head away, but he just laughs. "Better than any treasure we'd hope to find."

"Let's get 'er back to the ship before any soldiers show up," the third pirate says. "She ain't worth nothin' if we're all dead."

Annabeth screams and kicks wildly. The pirate holding her grunts and slaps his grimy hand over her mouth, silencing her. As they force her into the carriage, Annabeth catches a brief glimpse of the door to the manor opening.

Not my mother, she cries inwardly. Oh, gods, don't let them take my mother.

The pirates barely spare her mother and Luke's any attention. "Too old," one of them mutters as he climbs in the carriage and slams the door shut behind him. The driver cracks the whip and the carriage flies back towards the town.

The pirates rip a piece of fabric from the bottom of her dress and secure her hands together behind her back. They rip another piece to stuff in her mouth.

"That'll shut 'er up."

Annabeth's heart races with every hoofbeat. She tries to think of a way to escape, but her brain is too addled and panicked. She holds onto the hope that Luke will see his carriage being driven by pirates and realize what happened. She imagines him jumping into battle, slashing down the pirates with his sword and rescuing her. Maybe he'd kiss her in the middle of the chaos.

The carriage jolts to a halt. The sound of battle is deafening, fires roaring and guns firing and the metallic clash of swords ringing out. Annabeth hadn't realized how loud the BOOM of the canons actually was until now.

The door on the side opens and the pirates spill out, one grabbing her arm and pulling her out. A bullet whizzes an inch past her face and buries in the frame of the canon. Another bullet catches one of the pirates in the chest and he falls. The remaining three curse and pull out their own flintlock pistols, returning a few shots before hurrying down the docks.

Many of the planks are burnt to a crisp, and one pirate's foot goes all the way through. He pulls himself back up with a lot of swearing and they run, ducking canonballs and muskets as they navigate through the smoke. Annabeth's head rings.

She'd always imagined battle and fighting as a romantic, heroic thing; now she realizes that it's the opposite. Battle is chaos and confusion. It isn't about skill so much as luck. Even the bravest and toughest soldier can be downed by a stray bullet.

They step over the bodies of pirates and soldiers alike. Annabeth can't help but scan the corpses as she passes, each time terrified that one could be Luke's. She doesn't see his blond hair, though, and soon the pirates are forcing her to take a seat in a small boat. Two of them take the oars and start rowing to the big ships while the third holds a knife to Annabeth's throat, the other hand holding a cocked pistol.

At the side of one of the big boats, some pirates throw down a rope ladder. The pirate holding her captive throws her over his shoulder as he climbs. It's humiliating, and Annabeth wishes the bullet had hit her earlier. Better to be dead than captured by pirates.

On the deck of the ship, she gets a good look over the harbor. Sporadic skirmishes are still in action here and there, but the main part of the fight is over. The entire harbor is on fire, flaming tendrils of orange and red and yellow reaching up into the sky and turning into smoky fingers clawing at the sun. Bodies lay scattered in pools of red here and there, limp arms clutching at fallen weapons. The pirates are slowly retreating, carting rowboats of food and gold and weapons and other spoils of war back towards the ships. Canons from on board covers their retreat.

The pirates that had captured her hold her on deck, their weapons out and ready to use. The pirates left aboard the ships help cart up the riches. When the last boats are up, the crew members raise the anchor and unfurl the sails, letting the wind take them away.

Annabeth is chafing at her bonds, trying to untie the knot around her wrists, when the biggest, scariest pirate she's ever seen storms onto the deck, bellowing orders and insults. The crew scatters around him. Annabeth's heart drops in her stomach.

The pirate catches her eye and approaches slowly. Somehow that scares her more than his yelling. He examines her with eyes so dark they're almost black. She must be imagining it out of fear, but she swears his sockets have tiny flames burning inside of htem. His hair is cut close to his scalp, his face and hands a mess of old scars and fresh wounds. His belt holsters twin pistols on either side, and he holds a wicked sword in his hands, the metal curved, the tip sharp, and the length dripping with blood and gore. He wipes it along his thigh as he looks her over.

"What is this?" he rumbles.

"Cap - Captain Ares, sir," the pirate holding her stutters, apparently as afraid of this man as Annabeth is. "We captured this girl outside the town limits."

"We don't take prisoners," Captain Ares snaps. "You know this."

"Normally, yes, sir," one of the other pirates says, stepping forward. "But she's rich, sir. Found her on a manor. Her family will pay handsomely for 'er back."

Ares' cruel eyes hold Annabeth's for a long minute that feels like eternity. Annabeth does her best to not cower; she has the feeling that acting brave and tough will keep her alive longer than playing the damsel in distress.

"Fine," the captain grunts. "Send the letter. But make the price high. This is unnecessarily messy business. If you ever take a prisoner again…"

He trails off. The pirates gulp. Annabeth's hands shake.

The captain turns back to the rest of his crew. "That was a good raid, you lot of maggots!" he shouts. "Tonight, we feast. And tomorrow, we sail for Tortuga!"

A cheer goes up among the crew. They begin sorting through their spoils. Annabeth watches for a few minutes until she's tugged by the pirate holding her captive.

"Yer at our mercy now," he growls, his stinking breath blowing across her face. "Ye better hope yer husband finds ya worth paying for."

He drags her below deck before she can answer, throwing her into the brig and slamming the door shut with a metallic clang that rings through the darkness.

Annabeth curls up in a ball, trying to ignore the claustrophobia setting in. She tries to take a deep breath, but the air around her is stale and putrid, reeking of human waste and rotting straw. Her beautiful wedding dress is torn, stained, and ragged; her hair is falling out of her wedding braids in clumps around her; she can barely see through the oppressing darkness.

This is not how the best day of her life was supposed to go. Maybe she didn't want to get married quite yet, but this is not the adventure that she wanted.

She'd do anything to be back in the safety of Luke's arms.