The Curse of the Ghost Captain

by L. Monster

Merchant Will Solace and his crew rescue a man at sea, seemingly the only survivor of a terrible shipwreck, but he never expected the man to be a pirate. Solangelo Pirates AU, in which Nico has magical ghostly powers, Percy is a fearsome pirate with dubious intentions and Will tries hard not to die.

9. Chapter 9

The Curse of the Ghost Captain

CHAPTER 9

"_"

The heavy plank that connected the two decks creaked under the footsteps of the several pirates that crossed from one ship to the other.

The candles and kerosene lights of the Argo II illuminated about halfway across the wooden board that served as a makeshift bridge between the two vessels. The far end of the plank was coated in almost complete darkness. It wasn't simply that the Charon had failed to procure a single candle to light the path of those currently boarding it, the silvery light of the full moon itself seemed unable to permeate through the black mist that surrounded the ghost vessel.

The moment his leather boots landed on the Charon's dark, empty deck, Captain Jackson, the first to cross over, outstretched his arms to each side, waiting to be searched for weapons. In a display of blind trust, the two silhouettes behind him halted mid-way through the plank, no weapons drawn whatsoever. It would have taken one well-aimed ghostly blow, then a kick to the board to get rid of all three of them in one go, which probably accounted for the tension that pulled at the muscles on the Captain's neck, barely illuminated by the little moonlight that reached the darker side of the plank. To his surprise and relief, nothing of the sort happened.

Back onboard the Argo II, yet to cross over, two voices spoke, their tones light as if to diffuse the tension.

"I don't see why we had to bring the women, too," said Leo, clearly aiming the jab at the girl who stood before him, the tip of her boot about to graze the plank as she readied herself to cross over.

"Bloody fool," Piper spat back as she stepped confidently onto the plank. "Be thankful you've got women coming along. You might need someone to retake the ship in case things go south from here."

Leo snorted. "As if!"

"Shh!" chastised Annabeth Chase, her eyes on Piper as she walked through the plank.

On the other side, safely onboard the Charon, Percy stiffened. Out of the darkness, directly in front of him, the silhouette of a man began to draw itself out of seemingly thin air. Flanking the sudden apparition, two additional outlines appeared. Heads, shoulders, long swords and pistols, quickly followed by the silvery outline of boots growing solid as the ghosts fell heavily onto the deck directly before Captain Perseus Jackson, who did not even flinch as they made a show of their appearance.

Percy remained impassive as the ghosts searched him. Translucent, yet surprisingly solid hands patted his chest and back, searching him for swords or pistols. The young Captain was suddenly engulfed by an icy embrace, as if he had just walked through a waterfall. Just like that, Percy knew a ghost had simply gone through him. He would not have been able to conceal the smallest shard of glass without their knowing. The same was repeated as Reyna and Jason, who had crossed over just behind him, shivered beside him. Soon enough, Piper, Leo, Annabeth and Hazel, bringing up the rear, had all made their way across the plank, each of them shuddering uncomfortably as the ghosts went through them, searching them for weapons.

When Annabeth had been searched, Percy scanned her face. He couldn't see her clearly, but the sharp nod she gave him told him all he needed to know. The ghosts hadn't found it. It was still safely tucked in the inside of her jacket.

From amidst the crew of the Argo II, which had huddled close together, one of the smaller silhouettes broke through the front line. Her dark skin barely illuminated by the feeble moonlight that grazed her face, but her words were loud and clear.

"We are here, brother. We wield no weapons," Hazel yelled into the darkness, her voice brittle. She was clearly scared, perhaps dreading a repeat of the last time she had been onboard the cursed ghost vessel.

"We are here, Nico," interjected Percy, his dauntless voice slicing through the darkness. He took a step forward and two of the ghosts moved out of his way as he did so. He raised arms, exposing his chest. "We are unarmed and entirely at your mercy."

A gust of wind blew throughout the deck, drawing out hollow, high-pitched screams as puffs of smoke twirled to and fro, outlining a small path that started at Captain Jackson's feet and led somewhere into the darkness. Ghostly figures begun to appear, flanking the narrow path, just as at the opposite end, two feeble torches giving out green light came to life, illuminating the path that led from the tips of the Captain's boots to a door in the far end of the deck.

"That's theatrical," whispered Piper, trying and failing to sound unimpressed.

The door creaked open, drawing the eyes of the pirate crew. Out walked a large man, taking slow, measured steps in their direction. The green light of the torches did little to illuminate his features, but the eerie glow did somewhat outline his powerful shoulders.

"Frank!" yelled Hazel, almost beside herself.

"Not this bum again," interjected Leo, sounding relieved despite trying to appear annoyed at his crewmate's reappearance.

Frank Zhang reached Captain Jackson and offered his hand. Percy smirked and took hold of Frank's forearm in a strong grip.

"Good to see you. You aren't dead, are you?" Percy asked, if only to make sure.

Frank grinned, or at least it looked like he was grinning, for his white teeth reflected the moonlight.

"No one has yet succeeded in killing me, I'm afraid," Frank replied. The sound of his voice, so familiar and strong, seemed to work like a balm on the rest of the crew. Shoulders relaxed and jaws unclenched as Frank Zhang looked from face to face, searching for someone.

Reading the situation, Percy moved to the side, allowing Frank to walk past him. Frank came to a stop directly in front of Hazel, whose watery eyes shone in the darkness.

"I told you I'd be back," he said.

Hazel let out a feeble whimper, then threw herself into Frank's arms.

Captain Jackson took the opportunity to gaze into the faces of the ghosts that flanked the path, if faces was the right word. From what he could tell, they appeared to be all male, some sprouting what resembled a beard. However, their actual features seemed distorted, as if they had been underwater. He narrowed his eyes, trying to make sense of the rest of their bodies. The weapons they wielded appeared real enough. A scythe, longswords and pistols, which, although mismatched and random, looked as if they could cut through marble. When he glanced at their feet, he was surprised to see solid boots. He had once been told (by an extremely reliable source) that ghosts glided, not walked.

He turned to Frank, his patience exhausted, when the man spoke.

"Captain Jackson, I have been granted a small favor by the Captain of this ship," he said loudly, almost as if speaking to someone in the distance.

"Speak," said Percy.

"I am to accompany you to the mess hall, where the meeting shall take place. I'm afraid you will have to suffer being escorted by these… men at all times," he said, nodding in the direction of the ghosts, "however, I have been allowed to act as a personal escort to Hazel Levesque. She is no fighter, and cannot swim. I am to see to her safety. I now ask your permission, Captain Jackson, to carry out this task, for which I volunteered in the first place."

"Fine," said Percy straightaway, and all souls about him, living and non-living, could hear the impatience in his voice.

"Someone's getting laid tonight," said Leo, leaning into Piper, who snorted.

"I hope it's me. If we don't die, I mean," she replied. They were not trying to be quiet.

"Lead the way," commanded Captain Jackson, speaking to the ghosts. His voice loud and clear, as if he, too, had been speaking to someone in the distance.

They walked in single file, Percy at the front. The floorboards creaked as they walked. The crew of the Argo II moved steadily behind their Captain, although their eyes shifted from ghostly face to ghostly face with distrust.

They were led into a large room with a relatively high ceiling. It was large enough to accommodate the entire crew of newcomers without them needing to huddle together as they stood by the door. Dark wood panels lined the walls, a crimson carpet covered the entirety of the floor. In the far end, a large window framed the full moon that spilled silvery light into the room. In the middle stood a round, sturdy-looking round table, which mismatched chairs all around it. When the door slammed shut behind them, a few of the pirates reached for their weapons out of instinct, some of them cursing when they realized they carried none.

Suddenly, the ghosts that had flanked the path to the cabin seeped into the room through the floorboards, solidifying around them. One of them, the one who stood nearest Percy, let the spiked metal ball of a flail drop threateningly onto the floor, he was the only one wearing a hood that obscured his face, which Percy found unnecessary, since all of their faces appeared blurred. For a second, Percy thought he might have been Nico; he looked solid enough.

"You are, as you said," spoke a velvety voice from the darkest corner of the room, directly opposite them, "entirely at my mercy."

Nico di Angelo walked out of the darkness, and for a second he seemed to be made of black smoke. He stepped into the silvery light, which framed his contour. The crystal chandelier that hung low above the table suddenly burst into light as all its candles came to life at once.

A few eyes widened, but no one moved.

Percy's eyes narrowed. Nico did not look like he had done the last time he had seen him. He wore black, a color he had always favored, and a large hat perched low over his eyes, which probably added to the effect of him being one with the darkness. And yet, Percy could see his face perfectly. He seemed to glow, a much different kind of glow from say, the moonlight or the candles. His face was thinner than he had ever seen it, but the manic look in his eyes was twice as dangerous.

He moved elegantly, almost as if he were gliding. Percy's eyes instantly moved to watch for Nico's feet, and he did not know if he was relieved when he saw boots.

"Nico," he said dryly.

"Sit," Nico replied in turn. His voice was strong, and carried a certain authority that Percy had never heard before. Little Nico was no more, he realized sadly.

He wasn't surprised when he felt Annabeth – for it could only be her – gently touching his elbow from behind him, prompting him to sit down. He did, taking the chair closest to the door, directly in front of the seat of honor, which he knew was reserved for the Captain of the ship. Annabeth took the seat to his right, and Jason the one to his left. The rest of the crew stood behind them, as had been agreed prior to their arrival.

Nico's eyes followed their movements. His thin smile vaguely disguised his derision, but his eyes spoke of nothing short of a deep-rooted desire to bathe in their blood. He took his time walking up to the table, but instead of sitting down on the chair with the highest backrest, as Percy expected, he drew his right-hand fingers around its wooden frame, then through it. His ghost hand sliced through the chair's backrest with a graceful, fluid movement, as if the chair had been a ghost itself. But it wasn't the chair that was a ghost, Percy realized with a start, it was Nico's hand. Nico's dangerous smile widened as he saw the shock on Percy's face, which was mirrored in the faces of the rest of his crew.

Nico let out a bark of a laugh.

"Worth it," he said to the side, speaking towards the dark corner from where he himself had walked out not a minute before.

"If you say so," spoke another voice, just as figure walked into the light.

It was the first time the crew of the Argo II had ever laid eyes on William Solace, with the exception of Jason and Reyna, who had met him once before. The reaction Will elicited from the pirates only doubled in intensity as he came to sit on the Captain's chair, while Nico stood behind him, draped seductively over the backrest.

Judging by the looks the pirates were throwing his way, they had not expected William Solace, the innocent merchant, to look or act the way he did. Will was dressed in black, matching Nico's attire, sans the hat. He was tall and slim, but his broad shoulders attested to his physical strength. There was a certain nobility to his features, his long neck, high cheekbones, straight nose and strong chin. His golden locks were elegantly tied in a low ponytail.

However, to Jason and Reyna, who had seen him once before, he looked like an entirely different person. There was something else that hadn't previously been there before. And like Nico, he seemed to glow on his own, his skin iridescent under the candlelight. His blue eyes shone brightly as he took them in, one at a time, smiling warmly.

"Captain Nico di Angelo welcomes you," he said pleasantly, as he outstretched his palms, "onboard the Charon."

They had achieved the effect they were going for. The members of the Argo II looked utterly flabbergasted, as Will took the Captain's chair while Nico rested his elbows on the backrest, twirling his ghostly fingers through Will's hair.

"The actual fuck," whispered Leo, yet his voice carried across the room as if he had been speaking to a crowd.

"William Solace, innit?" asked Annabeth, her face impassive.

"Quartermaster Chase, I believe?" Will asked kindly, nodding in her direction. "We've corresponded. Captain Jason Grace, we've met. And you, I remember you. Reyna, is it? Glad to see you back on your feet. The rest of you, I'm afraid I haven't had the pleasure. My name is William Solace, and I am…" he looked at Nico.

"He is who he says he is," said Nico with a mysterious smile, his fingers grazing Will's chin. "William Solace, that be him."

Next to her, Percy drew his hands into fists on the table, his knuckles turning white.

"Impatient as always, I see. You were never one for pleasantries, as I recall," commented Nico insolently. He made a tsk-tsk sound and shook his head slightly.

"Annoying little –" Percy began, but next to him Annabeth cleared her throat. Percy's jaw clenched, his Adam's apple bobbing with difficulty as if he'd tasted something foul. "We are here to talk, not taunt," he hissed through gritted teeth, as if he'd been forced to recite those words for an extremely unpopular tutor.

"Aye," said Nico, straightening up. "Talk. Then get the fuck off my ship."

Will turned, then placed his hand over Nico's, whose fingers had been digging into Will's shoulder. "Shall I?"

Nico took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

"I need a drink. Wine!" he commanded.

Instantly, another ghost with blurred features appeared next to Nico, handing him a goblet, then offering one to Will with much reverence. The ghost's face couldn't be made out, but her body was distinctly female. She poured wine from a bottle, then quick as lightning, placed three full goblets on the table, one in front of each of the seated pirates.

"A toast," said Will, raising his goblet. The rest of the crew shuddered as they too were offered a goblet overflowing with wine. They shared looks of distrust, as if the goblets themselves had offended them, and they would have like nothing more than to slap them away.

Annabeth Chase raised her goblet, looking straight into Will's eyes. Next to them, Nico and Percy exchanged death glares, which seemed to amuse her.

"Parlay demands a toast, as a show of goodwill. With Captain Jackson's leave, I drink to you, Captain di Angelo, Mercer Solace. May our meeting prove fruitful to all present," she said, toasting the two men across the table, then Percy, who looked murderous, and downed the entirety of her glass in one go. Across the table, Will did the same.

"Is it poisoned?" asked Piper, leaning close and sniffing the air around the Quartermaster, as if she would have been able to discern it with her nose.

Annabeth smacked her lips. "Excellent harvest," she said pleasantly, putting the goblet back on the table.

"Poison," snorted Nico derisively, taking a hearty swig of his goblet. "If I wanted to kill you, you would be all dead by now. Who kills by poison? Mind you, it's not as if I don't want to kill you. I actually really, really do, but I've been advised to at least let you speak before I toss you into the sea; and that's tossing, not poisoning. I might stab you once or twice for good measure before I toss you though. I haven't quite discarded that idea."

His threat carried even more weight as the Argo II came visible through the window. Nico had made true of his promise of sailing away from Percy's ship as soon as they boarded the Charon.

Will closed his eyes and took a deep breath, ignoring Nico's jab. He placed his hands on the table and laced his fingers together in a business-like manner.

"At this rate, we will be here forever before any of us gets a word in. I suggest we move things forward in the following way. Captain Jackson, you carry no weapons, we have been thusly informed. This, I take as a token of your goodwill. You have kept your promise in such respect. Allow me to offer you the same in turn. So long as you do not attempt anything against the crewmembers of this vessel, I can guarantee you being safely returned to your ship. You have my word."

Percy's eyes were slits of distrust as he took in the young merchant, but nodded curtly nonetheless.

"You may now state the purpose of this meeting, whatever it is you wish to discuss. Captain di Angelo will then decide if the meeting shall continue. If he wishes to end the interview, you will promptly be returned to your ship. Your time is precious, I suggest you use it wisely," said Will.

Behind him, Nico turned his back and walked to the window, his eyes on the sea.

Percy followed him with his eyes. Little Nico was no more, he thought sadly. And yet, perhaps, there was still a way. He remembered the real reason why they were there. His eyes went from Nico to William Solace, who regarded him with expectant curiosity, as if he had been waiting for a child to speak. He did not like that in the slightest.

The Captain of the Argo II suddenly stood up, prompting the ghosts to close in around him, their weapons at hand.

"Nico," he said loudly. "I know how to break Angelica's curse."

Nico turned so swiftly he might have been a cat, his face cast in shadows, his eyes glinting against the backdrop of the moonlit ocean.

It took a long time for Percy to disclose the information he had withheld from Nico for well over ten years. At first, the young Ghost Captain refused to hear another word lest the entirety of Percy's crew left the cabin, wary of them overhearing his secret. Annabeth Chase informed him, however, that they were all privy to the Curse of Angelica, and what powers it bestowed its carrier. Percy and Annabeth had taken the precaution of telling everything to the closest members of the crew, which made Nico toss a chair out the window in a rage.

Once Nico had settled back down, Percy proceeded to recount his story, starting from the time Bianca, Nico's late sister, revealed the secret of the curse to him, and begged him to take her away. They travelled the world in a ship bought with a few pieces of Bianca's jewelry, looking for someone in particular. Bianca insisted on collecting as much information as possible along the way, anything that would tell her more about the curse in the hopes of breaking it, saving her little brother from the burden that was sure to come to him were she to fail. They searched for years, sailed across the world, gathering as much information as they could. Eventually, they found who they were looking for. Nico guessed correctly from the start. They had been looking for their father, later known as Signore Aides.

"To break the curse," Percy emphasized distastefully, as if looking for Nico's father wasn't unpleasant enough.

Nico snorted and shook his head from where he stood by the window. He had refused to return to the table, and Will had long left his seat to stand by him. The rest of Percy's crew were given leave to take seats around the table, though Frank remained standing behind Hazel's chair, and Reyna behind Jason. From where they sat, the black silhouettes of Will and Nico, who stood by the window, blocked much more of the moonlight than their relatively small frames should have been able to in the first place. It was as if they had been engorged by an aura of darkness that rendered the much larger than they were. At times, it looked as if they had been standing on lit embers, black smoke licking at their silhouettes.

"Aye. I'm sure that's all that was," said Nico acidly.

He wanted to hear more about his father. He wanted to know what he had told them, and if it had been as useless as what he had told him. Yet, he could not help his curiosity with regards to Percy's relationship with his sister. He had had more than a handful of nightmares about it throughout most of his adult life.

Next to him, Will could sense the tension on Nico's shoulders. He had long guessed that Nico had harbored romantic feelings for his childhood friend, but he had no way of knowing how much of those feelings remained. Perhaps they were like the dregs at the bottom of a glass of wine that had been allowed to sit for much too long. Once shaken, they floated back up, dissolving into the liquid, impossible to separate.

Percy shook his head, cursing silently, as if he dreaded what he was about to say.

"It has been pointed out to me, on more than one… tedious occasion," said Percy, his eyes hovering over to Annabeth for a moment, "that your hatred towards me might be fueled by two fundamental misconceptions."

"And what might those misconceptions be?" asked Nico, sounding bored.

"That B-Bianca and I were in some sort of romantic relationship. And that I killed her."

Nico's sash began to smoke, as if his midriff were on fire. Will closed in on him, touching Nico's arm with the tips of his fingers.

"You stutter when you call her name. Guilty conscience, Captain?" Nico taunted, his voice a velvety, dangerous whisper.

Percy swallowed.

The silence in the room was broken by the sounds of Leo sipping loudly on his wine, enthralled as he was in the conversation. Piper elbowed him, making him spill the liquid all over himself. He cursed and glared at her, but the female ghost was upon them before they were even aware of it, refilling his goblet and making a lot of noise as she did so. All eyes turned on them.

Being suddenly put on the spot, Leo grinned. "Don't mind me. Great service, by the way," he said, holding up his goblet with two hands as if toasting his hosts, then he quickly slurping the overflowing liquid. Beside him, the face of Mallory Keen, because it could not have been anyone but her, came into sharp focus as she beamed.

Will raised his eyebrows, widening his eyes and hoping nobody had noticed her faux pas. Wary of being watched, he pursed his lips and gave her a barely visible shake of the head. Keen caught his expression and quickly blurred out her features, then merged into the darkness behind her.

"That you were in a romantic relationship, and that you killed her, you were saying. I assume this is where you tell me I'm wrong," said Nico, sounding exhausted after the interruption. His ghost hand broke away from his arm, lacing its fingers around Will's at an angle obscured from the rest. His anxiety was spiking, and yet all it took was a squeeze of Will's hand to somewhat reign in his nerves.

"You are wrong," said Percy. He sounded just as exhausted, yet strangely determined.

Nico rolled his eyes.

Percy paid him no mind. He took a deep breath and began to recite: "Dear Nico, if you are reading this, my plan has failed and I am now dead. You are now the last Di Angelo left, and as so, Angelica must now come to you. Mother had her locket, and I had the pirate figurine. You must find a treasure of your own, and when you do, put it in your mouth, and Angelica will find you. If you don't do this, you will die. I now see I was wrong, the curse cannot be broken by yourself—"

He stopped. When he looked up, Nico was gaping at him.

"How the fuck—" Nico stammered.

"I take it you found a treasure of your own," said Percy, looking Nico up and down. "Something in your pocket, perhaps?"

Nico and Will exchanged looks, but said nothing.

Percy smiled sadly. He looked at Annabeth, who mirrored his expression, then nodded.

Out of her inner pocket, Annabeth procured a small, clear bottle with a roll of parchment inside, then handed it to Percy.

"This is the other half of the letter," Percy said, glaring at the bottle with such intensity he might have been looking at a dying, hideous thing. "I would have given it to you sooner but… well, I barely escaped with my life last time we met."

"You set my ship on fire," Nico whispered with venom in his voice.

"It was the birds," Percy replied through gritted teeth.

The little bottle on his outstretched palm caught the light. Nico looked at it, then quickly met Will's eyes.

"Go on," Will whispered encouragingly, squeezing Nico's ghost hand.

Nico's hand did not need further prompting. It dissipated between Will's fingers, flew shapelessly though the air, caught the bottle on Percy's hand, then returned to Nico, while the pirates around the table gasped and cursed.

Nico's fingers shook as he unstoppered the bottle and pulled out the little roll of parchment. First, he unrolled what looked like a map, but his interest was drawn to the other paper. There was no doubt, it was the continuation of the letter he had swallowed long ago, he could see where the page had been torn. And that was Bianca's handwriting. He barely stopped himself from crumpling up the paper and shoving it into his mouth.

"—as it takes two to succeed. Don't hold this against Percy, for he did his best. It was I who failed, I failed you both. In my selfishness, my desperation, I attempted to force Percy into loving me, sure as I was that that was the way to break the curse. I was mistaken. He loves me, yes, but that wasn't enough. I needed him to love me as a lover, and he never did. To him, I was a sister, and that was the fatal flaw in my plan. I am out of time as it is, but I have entrusted Percy to deliver this letter to you, and disclose all the information we have collected, when time is ripe. Trust him. Trust Percy, Nico. He is your only chance. I'm sorry I failed you. I love you, truly and perpetually, as I have never loved before, and I assured you, I have loved. Bianca di Angelo."

It was the sight of her name, written in her own hand, that made Nico flinch. She wrote their last name the exact way Nico himself did. He wouldn't have been able to tell them apart if he summoned ink and parchment and wrote it down himself. There was no doubt, no doubt at all. She wrote this letter. She touched this very parchment. The overwhelming need to swallow the letter was the hardest thing Nico had ever had to ignore.

With numb fingers, Nico offered the letter to Will, then dropped his hand to his side. He felt faint, as if he were about to turn to smoke. Too many conflicting thoughts crossed his mind, as truth and lies mingled together, fusing into one.

It was as if she had suddenly come back to him—an idea he had long fantasized bout. But even if he had wanted to, he would have never found the exact place of her death to summon her back from the dead. And even if he had, would he have dared to do so? The idea sent shivers up his spine in an altogether unbearable fashion, much as this letter did. It felt as if she had returned from dead, unsummoned, only to add to his despair.

Yet that was far from the end of his sudden turmoil. How was making Percy fall in love with her important for Bianca to break the curse? His father had mentioned something of the sort. How he had hoped to break the curse that was slowly taking away Maria di Angelo's life by sharing its burden with her. Then he had tried to turn his cutlass into his treasure, foolish bastard. Was that why he had failed? He thought of Will, and how he had somehow transferred some of his powers onto him. He decided against telling Percy about it.

Nico was surprised he did not feel relieved at learning that Percy and Bianca's relationship had been platonic. Could it be that he no longer cared whether it had been or not? Possibly. Yet he had been so sure they had been lovers. He had overheard them, all those years ago. Could he have been wrong all along? Had he been living a lie for the past ten-or-so years?

He was not aware of when exactly Will had finished reading the letter, but when their eyes met, something like a spark went through him. Will did not speak, but his eyes sparkled. Nico thought of the last words on the letter. I have loved, he recalled. I have loved, too. And he says he loves me.

Thinking of Will's touch, Nico forced a nod to let Will know he was alright.

He turned to where Percy sat, silently waiting for him to speak. There was still the matter of Bianca's death, and he dreaded learning the truth almost as much as he did remaining ignorant.

"How did she die?" he asked simply. His voice was quiet, weak even.

Percy shook his head, his jaw clenched so tightly his cheek muscles twitched.

"Blood poisoning," he replied.

Percy glanced around the room, and for the first time, he looked uncomfortable. He still didn't understand why Annabeth had insisted the whole crew, plus Jason and Reyna, were to be present for the meeting. Especially since none of them carried weapons. He had been about to order the crew to leave the cabin when a wisp of white smoke punched through the door and solidified into a ghost directly in front of William Solace. Not Nico, the Ghost Captain, but Will.

Percy blinked, next to him, Annabeth tensed.

At the ghost's urgent whispers, Will began to frown.

"Our scout has spotted a ship drawing fast upon your vessel, Captain Jackson," Will announced to the room. "It is yet too far to discern, but it may be coming from the shore. Am I mistaken in believing you hold Letters of Marquee?"

"You would not be mistaken," replied Percy, his eyes narrowed.

"They might come in handy if the vessel hails from the mainland."

"Go," Percy commanded his crewmembers, "all of you. Call he birds."

Without waiting for another word, his entire crew—all except for Annabeth—got to their feet. Nico nodded curtly, and one of the ghosts opened the door for them.

Leo looked longingly back as he exited the room, seemingly sad to miss the conclusion of the tale. Or perhaps the wine. The ghosts left as well, all except for the one with the hood, who remained near Percy, his spiked flail at hand.

"Expecting company?" Nico asked conversationally, yet the tension in his voice betrayed his nonchalance.

"Maybe it's pirates," said Percy with a shrug.

To his surprise, Nico laughed. It didn't last long, but it broke some of the tension. Once he had gathered his composure, he spoke again. "Tell me why she failed. What was she trying to do? Wait. First, blood poisoning."

Percy sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, dreading what was coming.

"There is a poem," he began.

"I am aware of it," Nico quickly cut in, afraid Percy would suddenly begin reciting it.

Annoyed at the interruption, Percy swallowed a bulk like a boulder, then continued. "Did you understand it?"

Nico huffed. "What's there to understand? It's a poem."

Percy laughed, and the lightness of the sound brought life to the room. "You and I are of one mind. One simple, clueless mind. And yet, little Nico, your sister took it to mean a lot more than that. She read between the lines. A little too much, I believe, and she could not, for all she tried, effectively explain to me the severity of the situation, nor the reasons for the despair that plagued her spirit. It was as if she had given up hope. She was convinced she had failed. She gave up food, and eventually, she gave up the figurine. She refused to even come close to it."

"This figurine?" Nico asked, pulling the silver object out of his inner pocket. It shone in the candlelight, tiny and powerless. "How did you manage to make it work for you?"

Percy shrugged. "Bianca told me to put it in my mouth. She said, once I found you, you would believe me, trust me, even. I must confess, I tried it once, after she had passed. That's how I knew of its real powers."

"The thing should have lost all its powers after her death," Nico added.

"And yet, it did not. Why are you so certain it wouldn't work? You don't know for sure, do you? And neither do I, but it worked. Perhaps it works still. Nevertheless, I never knew before that, she never explained that that blasted thing would render me invisible. I also never managed to summon a single ghost, by the way, and neither did she."

"What?" Nico asked, his eyes widening.

"I should rephrase that. She never summoned a ghost in my presence. I believe it was because she hated the idea that she could so easily summon those who had died. She only mentioned using it once, to speak to her mother, long before we left. I didn't understand what she meant at the time, but that must have been enough to put her off from using it again. She kept it in her pocket, never used it. I must confess, I somewhat resented her keeping those powers at bay. We sure could have used them once or twice. Despite that, it seemed to keep her alive, in good spirits, I mean, whenever she held it. Once she gave it up, she began to… change."

Will inched closer, perking up at the words. Across the room, Annabeth's eyes thirstily drank Will's expression.

"Change how?" Nico asked.

"She became erratic, unfocused. She had violent coughing fits, and slept for days on end. Once asleep, she could not be roused. The morning she died…," he stopped, then swallowed another boulder. "The morning she died, I was out fishing. When I returned, I came into cabin and found her… gone… on her cot, with the letter."

Percy found he could not continue. He closed his eyes and balled his hands into fists. He would not cry, he hadn't cried since he was a small child, but he would surely have welcomed an opportunity to toss something out the window, just the way Nico had done before. He couldn't believe that, after all these years, his inability to stop Bianca's death still haunted him, rendered him speechless, as if it had only just occurred.

"She died from blood poisoning," he continued, "the curse began to poison her the moment she gave up the figurine to me. The morning she died, the thing had been in my pocket. It had been there for weeks."

Nico crossed the room in two strides. Percy got to his feet quick enough, but was too slow to dodge as Nico shoved him as hard as he could. Percy toppled over, landing hard on the floor.

"And you never thought to give it back? To force her to take it? To shove it in her mouth, not even if that meant you could save her life?" he yelled. He would have kicked him had Will not caught him around the waist and restrained him.

Percy got to his feet, ready for a fight.

"Calm down, you will achieve nothing this way," Will whispered into Nico's shoulder, his arms tightly wrapped around Nico like iron chains.

At his inability to rush back and pummel Percy into a pulp, Nico outstretched his right arm and his ghost hand flew straight at Percy, punching him square in the face.

"Nico!" Will yelled, just as Percy crumpled over, his face in his hands.

Annabeth remained seated, but her fingers gripped the armrests tightly as she took in the blood gushing out of Percy's nose.

When Percy finally managed to get up, blood shone down his chin and soaked his collar. Yet once the initial shock had passed, he smiled.

"I guess I deserved that," he said, sitting back down and downing the goblet of wine that had been sitting before him, coughing as he swallowed.

It took much longer for Nico to calm down. He and Will moved back into the darkest corner of the room, where Will whispered gentle words into his ear. Annabeth couldn't overhear what they were saying, but the glint in her eyes betrayed her excitement.

She leaned into Percy and whispered: "He does."

Percy closed his eyes and shook his head, torn between trying to remember what Annabeth said she would be looking for and tossing his head back to stop the bleeding.

"Fuck," he hissed, dreading the implications once he recalled their previous conversation and the true purpose of their meeting. "Well that fucking complicates things for us."

"Seaweed brain," she whispered back. "That just about solves everything. Unknowingly, they have done half the work themselves."

"What the fuck are you two going on about?" hissed Nico from across the room, but he no longer sounded like he would thrust himself upon Percy and rip his head off.

"I said you have a mean punch. I never expected that," replied Percy, wiping his face with his sleeve. "Come to think of it, I never expected you would find a way turn a part of yourself into a ghost. Did someone chop off your real hand or something?"

"Yes," replied Nico acidly.

Judging by the way Percy's eyes widened, he had not been expecting an affirmative to his question.

"Well, I'll be damned," said Percy, staring at Nico's hand as if seeing it for the first time. "And I thought I'd seen it all."

"Dumb idiot," Nico hissed, almost to himself.

"Why didn't you?" Will suddenly asked, sitting at the table once Nico had settled down on the Captain's chair. "Return the figurine to her, I mean. You could have done it in secret, without her knowledge."

Percy laughed humorlessly. "Thing is, I am one thick, handsome bastard. At the time, I had no idea there was any relationship between Bianca's condition and that blasted thing. She assured me this was what happened to the carriers of the curse. She said that's how her mother had died, and how this little shit would die if we didn't put an end to the curse," he added, nodding in Nico's direction.

"Am I to believe you've had my best intentions at heart? This letter," Nico said, snatching the letter from Will's hand and shaking it before Percy's eyes, "this half of a letter, clearly speaks of a way to break the curse, and you kept it all to yourself. You've withheld this information from me for over ten years. You've sentenced me to half a life, Percy." said Nico, his ghost hand threateningly turning into a small, yet solid-looking anvil for good measure. "And you claim to have done this for, what, the sake of my own well-being? Was time not ripe enough as I lay dying with the other half of the letter halfway down my esophagus?"

Percy opened his mouth to retort, but it was Annabeth who spoke instead.

"Aye, that just about sums it up." she said simply.

All eyes turned on her.

"The curse of Angelica is a terrible burden thrusted upon innocents like you yourself once were, Nico di Angelo." She phrased his name as if it had been dripping with poison. "The fact that it befell your family, taking the lives of your mother, sister and so many others before them is nothing short of a tragedy. An uncalled for, unfair destiny. But fool yourself into thinking you Di Angelos are the only victims of this blasted curse. There have been others, many others that have suffered. Yet the isolation to which you have sentenced yourself since, the aura of death that surrounds you, your lack of understanding that there might still be people out there who wish to help you, the fact that you've become little more than a social pariah, those misfortunes you brought entirely upon yourself. Save yourself the trouble of acting like you are the only victim here."

Her words rang in Nico's ears as if they had slapped him.

"Captain Jackson has scoured the seas for well over ten years looking for a way to break the curse, not because he promised your sister, but because all this time, they had shared the same goal. She is gone, sadly, but Percy remains. Yet you scorn him, blame him for your sister's death, and refuse his help, over and over again. He kept the letter because he wasn't ready to come to terms with what Bianca herself had withheld from him. Having someone you love die, not leave, but die, because she assumed you didn't love them enough, is that something you could easily disclose? Is that something you would openly discuss, knowing you wouldn't be believed?"

Nico laughed, pinching the bridge of his nose, but his heart wasn't in either of those actions. He felt like turning to smoke. Could it be true? All true? Had he been wallowing in his own misery for years, searching for death as he scorned his last remaining ally, over jealousy? Had it all been his fault, all along?

"Enough."

Will's voice rang through the room with an authority he had not displayed before. Annabeth tilted her head in his direction, arching a shapely eyebrow.

"Something to add, Mercer Solace?" she asked.

"You said you knew how to break the curse. So far all we've heard from you is old information that offers little into ridding Captain di Angelo of his burden. You accuse, young lady, with the ease of someone who is utterly ignorant of the hard facts. How easy it is to point fingers when one's hands are clean. I haven't failed to notice the softness of your hands. Have you ever been in a fight yourself? Have you seen death as Nico here has? If you've said all you had to share, then I suggest you take your leave. Now."

He would not have anyone speaking to Nico as if everything was his fault. He would not suffer through another word of it.

There might have been some truth in Percy Jackson's version of the events, but Percy Jackson had never acted as an ally to Nico. His feeble attempts at reaching Nico barely veiled his own vanity, trying to portray himself as some sort of misunderstood hero, and Nico as a homicidal maniac who needed to be stopped at all costs. Will still remembered Octavian. He remembered the ghosts at Bonifacio, rising from their freshly slain bodies to avenge their deaths, an opportunity that Nico had offered them. Their deaths had not been Nico's doing. It had been Percy's. Captain Jason Grace had acted upon Percy's orders, unleashing Octavian upon an innocent city, leveling it to the ground. Nico had had nothing to do with the massacre, and yet, there he stood, his eyes moist with unshed tears as Annabeth Chase's words singled him out as the one solely responsible for the misery that surrounded him. Could she not see, in her blind loyalty to Jackson, what her words did to Nico—the true victim of this entire ordeal?

As if on cue, at Will's turbulent thoughts, several ghosts appeared at his side—not at Nico's, but his—sensing danger.

Percy and Annabeth exchanged looks, then the latter nodded.

"I meant no disrespect. We look for a way to break the curse, that be all," she said softly, placing her palms flat on the table.

"And how, pray tell, do you suggest we do that?" said Will, his chest heaving.

Annabeth took a deep, calming breath before she spoke again.

"Simple. Captain Jackson and Captain di Angelo paid no attention to the lines of the poem. I did, as did Bianca. I would call it female intuition, though I am still undecided on whether or not you and I are of the same mind. I believe you are withholding information from us, Mercer Solace, but for the time being, I am willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. As I said, in spite of our differences, we all share the same goal—to break the curse. The curse can be transferred, if we are to believe the poem, yet two fundamental conditions must be met."

"But what is the point of transferring it? Transferring does not mean breaking," Will cut in, drawing a hand through his neatly combed hair and disheveling it in one go. Next to him, Nico almost smiled.

Annabeth spoke quickly. "Bianca believed those two were one and the same. By transferring the curse, it can be shared between two. The burden diminishes, both carriers live out their lives unaffected by the blood poisoning, and the curse breaks of its own accord if no heirs survive."

"That… makes absolutely no sense," said Will, crossing his arms. "And why would Bianca have needed Percy to love her romantically? You're not asking Nico to love Hazel romantically, now, are you?" he asked, sounding a little bit hysterical.

"Nico and Hazel share a blood bond through their father. Bianca and Percy did not, she needed to make their connection as strong as possible," she replied quickly.

Will snorted and shook his head. "You're making that up. And this poem, you just randomly chose one that had the word Angelica in it? Why should we take these random lines as a guide to do anything at all?"

Annabeth sighed, clearly annoyed at Will.

"The poem has been passed down through generations of the curse's carriers. It wasn't randomly chosen, Mercer Solace."

"It could be. You have no proof."

"We should work with what we've got."

"That is ridiculous. And incidentally, what's in it for you?" asked Will, inching closer to her and resting his elbows on the table. "You speak of sharing one goal, I don't see how this concerns you."

"What's in it for me?" she asked, flinching sharply. A disbelieving smile etched across her face, and Will had never seen a more dangerous sight in his life.

"You heard me," Will replied defiantly.

Annabeth glared at him, then slowly procured something out of her breast pocket—a large locket, roughly the size of a fig, then tossed it to Will.

He pried it open. Inside it was a small portrait of Percy as a young man. He looked to be around sixteen years old. It was a tiny masterpiece—it captured the unbridled smile of a young sailor, radiant and free, so very different from the haunted man that sat next to her. Yet it was him, it was undoubtedly him. Will understood straightaway. Annabeth Chase and Percy Jackson were an item, and she longed to see him free from the curse that bound him, perhaps just as much as Will longed Nico to be free of it.

"What's in it for me? That's what's in it for me, Mercer Solace. Savvy?" she said flatly, looking beside herself for about a fraction of a second before she regained her composure.

Nico inched closer to peek into the locket, looking over Will's shoulder, then snorted.

"Looks nothing like you," he said derisively at Percy.

Percy rolled his eyes. "If it looks nothing like me, then how do you know it's me, dumbass? That's short for dumb sea bass, in case you were wondering."

Nico opened his mouth, his ghost hand turning into a cutlass, just as Percy began to get to his feet, but both Will and Annabeth moved to placate the young Captains, and soon enough, they returned to their seats.

"I'm not yet inclined to believe you entirely," said Will.

"Call it… love," said Annabeth sweetly, carefully studying Will's reaction.

Will froze, then looked pointedly away.

"As I mentioned before, two conditions must be met," Annabeth continued as if she hadn't been interrupted at all. "Angelica, a-dying, that's the first line. The current carrier of the curse must be suffering from blood poisoning. I believe Captain di Angelo meets this condition, as surely anyone who has carried the curse long enough begins to suffer the same fate. For all effects and purposes, Nico is Angelica. Now, Angelica loves one who knows not. The receiver must be someone Angelica loves. This directly correlates to Bianca's intentions with regards to Percy. Someone pure of heart, preferably. That connects with the third line. That first line still stands though, someone loved."

"Hazel," Nico spoke suddenly, his expression vague.

Next to him, Will flinched. He had been about to say that it sounded like Annabeth Chase was nitpicking the whole thing, reading between the lines as Percy had only just accused Bianca of having done herself, when that single word from Nico felt like his ghost hand had punched him in the face. Someone Angelica loves, someone loved. Someone Nico loves… Hazel?

"That's why you brought Hazel to my ship, wasn't it?" Nico asked, his question directed at Percy.

"Aye," Percy replied. "Worth a shot. But it didn't work, now, did it? You blasted the ship before I got a chance to explain."

"You set my ship on fire!" Nico yelled, getting to his feet.

"It was the birds!" Percy yelled back, slamming his fist on the table.

Nico suddenly climbed onto the table, throwing himself at Percy. Will barely caught him, toppling both of them over. Across the table, Percy reached for his sword. Finding he carried no weapons, he thrust himself over the table, intent on wringing Nico's neck, just as Annabeth wrapped her arms around his waist, barely managing to pull him back.

All of a sudden, a heavy thud resonated throughout the cabin as a spiked metal ball pierced the center of the table.

"Guys, stop! Just stop!" yelled the ghost with the hood, his flail embedded into the table, right between the two parties that had been about to rip each other to pieces. With one swift movement, he pulled back his hood, revealing a curtain of golden hair that fell over his face.

"Magnus, you were supposed to stay hidden!" Will hissed, pulling Nico onto a chair and glaring daggers in his direction.

"Magnus? Who the fuck are you?" asked Annabeth through gritted teeth as she negotiated Percy back onto his own chair.

"I'm sorry Will, but all this fighting is really aggravating and I have issues of my own! I can't stand all the screaming, not when it's clear you all want the same thing! Can you please just… just settle down. Here, drink some wine—" Magnus spoke, picking a bottle from the ground and taking a long swig himself.

Nico glared at Will for a moment, silently blaming him for Magnus's behavior, just before breaking into a wide, unexpected smile. "He has issues of his own, Will," he said, torn between anger and sudden, violent amusement.

"Excuse me, just what the hell is going on? Are you dead or not?" asked Annabeth, her voice shrill as she addressed Magnus, whom she had deemed as just another ghost.

Magnus downed the entirety of what was left of the bottle and gasped for breath before he managed a single word. "I'm actually not! I'm alive! At least… I think I am." He patted his chest and face.

"You were supposed to stay hidden," Will repeated, pinching the bridge of his nose. Next to him Nico shook his head, smiling sardonically.

"Don't trust the living, I always say," Nico added.

"That's less than helpful," Will cut in, glaring at him.

Annabeth and Percy exchanged looks.

"Uh," stammered Percy. "The fuck?"

"Forgive me, Captains," said Magnus, taking a seat next to Annabeth, who kicked his chair away from hers with one swift movement.

Magnus looked her up and down, both hurt and offended. "I forgive you for that, only because I know you are upset. God, it feels good to sit down. Anyway, as I was saying, it is clear to me that you are all fighting over technicalities here. Plutarch—Nico, I mean, you have to get over your anger towards Percy, may I call you Percy?" Magnus asked, blinking in Percy's direction.

Percy frowned. "Huh?"

"Percy. You need to open up a bit. We know you've been through a lot, but if your intention has been to help Plut—Nico all along, then you really should stop acting like a villain here. Lighting someone's ship on fire is not acceptable, birds or not. And Nico, blasting someone before they get a word in—not acceptable, either. Now, what Annabeth here—may I call you Annabeth? What Annabeth here suggests is fairly straightforward. Get Hazel, whoever that is, and if she be willing, which I daresay she is, transfer the curse onto her. So long as Nico here loves her, and she is pure of heart, it should work, right? A gifted treasure upon the chest be held as token—that means she must be gifted a treasure, onto which the curse can be transferred, right? How about this cork?" said Magnus, raising a cork he seemed to have only just picked off the floor.

The rest of the company stared at him, as if he had suddenly sprouted horns.

Nico shook his head, then began to laugh.

"I'm so glad you didn't die, if only for this moment," he said after a while.

Next to him, Will frowned. Had Nico completely missed the point of Magnus's suggestion? Use Hazel simply because he… what, loved her? Did he really? What about the bond he and Nico shared? What about him? Did he not love… him? He deflated at the thought. He had suspected so for days on end.

"Oh, snap. Hang on a minute," said Magnus, picking at his chin. "But then what about Will? He already controls half of Nico's powers, then that means—"

"Magnus!" yelled Will, getting to his feet just as the ghost of Hearthstone appeared next to Magnus, covering his mouth with his ghostly hand.

"What did he just say?" stammered Percy, his eyes wide.

Then, the ship exploded.

As soon as they had exited the cabin, the crewmembers of the Argo II, accompanied by Captain Jason Grace and Reyna Ramirez Arellano, made their way across the deck towards the main mast.

They were flanked by four ghosts as they crossed the deck. The lights of the Argo II were visible in the distance, but just barely. Whether there was a ship approaching, they couldn't tell from where they stood.

"Valdez, climb up the mast," Jason commanded. He wasn't Leo's Captain, per se, but Percy had given him ample authority over his own crewmembers, a grand display of trust between the two childhood friends.

Frowning slightly, Leo nodded, still not entirely used to taking orders from him.

"I'll go up as well," said Reyna, cracking her knuckles.

Next to them, one of the ghosts spoke, which made them both flinch. "Let's see how fast these two can climb," he said, and began to float towards the crow's nest.

Leo frowned, then looked from side to side.

"He is… fairly competitive," said Frank with half a smile, nodding towards the ghost that was already half-way up the mast.

"Well, he's never met a Leo like me," replied Leo, thrusting himself upon the mast and climbing with the agility of a chimpanzee.

With the attention of the crewmembers currently engaged elsewhere, Jason moved to the edge of the ship, his fingers wrapping tightly around the railing. He thought of the little scene he had only seen played out inside the Captain's lodgings. Why had Annabeth insisted they were present at the meeting if not to have them witness something in particular. But what? Perhaps she wanted the crew to get a good look at William Solace. Last time, that had been the sole reason for them sending Octavian over to the mainland—he had been the only other one who had seen William Solace's face when he and Reyna had been injured.

Was it perhaps to witness firsthand the powers of the curse? Nico's hand… that had been a surprise. Jason closed his eyes, trying to recall whether Nico had been wearing any kind of jewelry, or if he carried a strange object in any way. He could not think of one.

The one thing that stood out was the strange relationship that seemed to have developed between the two young men. Jason knew of Nico's inclinations, he had for years. He had, however, not expected William Solace to have corresponded him so quick and thoroughly. It wasn't that Nico wasn't attractive. It had to do with his general aura. Where William Solace seemed to possess a gentle, trusting disposition, Nico was the exact opposite—volatile and naturally suspicious. Yet, they appeared to completely trust one another. At times, it seemed like they were the same person, or at least two beings cast of one stone. Perhaps it was true what they said and opposites really did attract. He turned his head and his eyes landed on Piper Mclean, who yelled insults at Leo from where she stood, hissing at him to climb faster lest she decided to climb up herself and show him what having balls actually meant.

He sighed. What had he gotten himself into, he wondered.

Within seconds, Leo reached the crow's nest, closely followed by Reyna. The ghost on the top seemed to be cheering, if the sound it was making could be interpreted as such. He might have been leering at them for all Jason knew.

"Two vessels, Venetian flags," yelled Leo as he tossed the telescope to Reyna.

Venetian privateers were uncommon so close to Greece, but not unheard of. Jason knew Percy's Letters of Marquee would save them the trouble of having to explain what they were doing there, so it was imperative to send a message to the crew that had remained behind onboard the Argo II and inform them to reinforce their diplomatic protocol instead of blasting them to smithereens.

Jason turned to one of the ghosts. "Where have you kept the bird?" he asked, mustering as much authority in his voice as he could.

The ghosts shared a look.

"No birds onboard this vessel," replied one. Jason was surprised to hear the gentleness of the ghost's voice, but he must have been lying. Argento had never returned from its trip to deliver that final message to the Charon.

"Reyna!" Jason yelled. "Call them!"

Reyna let out an ear-splitting whistle, then repeated the action two more times. Nothing. They waited in silence for what felt like an eternity. All they could hear were the occasional shouts coming from the Captain's cabin.

"What's happening?" asked Hazel, hugging herself.

Frank looked at her, but instead of walking over her and offering her the solace of his embrace, he walked up to Jason.

"It is true enough. The birds aren't here. The fast one left weeks ago to deliver Solace's last message. The idiot one left on his own," he whispered.

Jason looked to and fro. Could the birds have possibly been intercepted? They hadn't been seen in weeks, but they had all assumed the birds had remained with Nico, perhaps caged to avoid further communication.

"I must inform Percy," Jason said, taking two hasty steps towards the cabin.

Suddenly, Reyna yelled, "Aurum! He approaches!"

Jason looked into the distance. True enough, Aurum, the idiot parrot was slowly making his way towards the Charon. His flight was lopsided, almost as if he was injured. He seemed to be coming from the mainland, which appeared a few miles into the distance.

"Not him…" said Frank, shaking his head.

The bird flew straight towards Reyna, who was still up on the crow's nest.

Jason watched as the bird perched on her outstretched arm, but when it began to screech, he knew something must have gone wrong.

"What does it say?" asked Jason. A cold shiver suddenly went up his spine. He could see Reyna and Leo exchange worried looks. A gust of cold wind rustled his coat from behind, but his eyes remained glued to the Argo II.

From the distance, he could hear a series of high-pitched whistles. They seemed to grow louder and in growing numbers. Jason swallowed. He knew those sounds. Specifically—he knew to which animal they belonged, and the implications of having them near him.

"Eagles," he whispered, his eyes widening.

Feeling as if a bolt of lightning had gone through him, Jason turned and ran to the other side of the deck, looking in the direction they had completely ignored. That's when he spotted them. Dozens of ships dotted the surrounding area from behind, cast in darkness, black sails taut and heading to them at an alarming speed. Hundreds of dinghies spotted the water that separated them—an advance guard. Looking wildly around, Jason realized they were surrounded, as was the Argo II in the distance. The ships were gaining on them. Too close already, much too close. If those ships did in fact wield Venetian flags—that could only mean one thing. He had done it. He had finally taken over. His father.

"Why?" Jason stammered stupidly. His heart was beating madly, he found it impossible to draw breath. "Why is he here?"

A loud whistle directly overhead caught his attention. He looked up just in time to see Reyna and Leo cower over, as about half a dozen eagles swooped down on them, their sharp talons catching the moonlight. Aurum took to the air, screeching madly as half of the eagles gave chase.

"Reyna!" Jason yelled, reaching for his sword and cursing when he realized he had no weapons to wield. "Get down!"

He saw the golden glow of a distant cannon explode before he even heard it. One of the ships had fired on them. The cannonball tore through the air, perfectly aimed.

"Take cover!" he yelled, and those were the last words spoken before the Charon was torn in half.

The undead souls onboard the Charon witnessed the entire event in slow motion. Halfborn Gunderson, floating beside the crow's nest, watched the eagles' slow movements as they attempted to claw the pirates' eyes out. The pirates cowered over, searching the small space for weapons, and Gunderon even felt a pang of pity as he watched realization hit them. He felt the cannonball zoom through the air without needing to turn around, but his orders had been clear. Stick to the pirates at all times. He chose to do that as they were blasted into the air, wrapping himself around them like a bubble as they slowly fell into the sea.

Mallory Keen, Blitzen and T.J. followed the eyes of Captain Jason Grace as he looked to and fro across the deck. They took in every minuscule detail of his growing apprehension, even spotted the drop of sweat that rolled down the Captain's neck.

When the first cannonball hit, followed by a dozen more, the ghosts stood frozen in mid-air as the ship was torn in half. Wooden splinters and stakes pierced the air as they shot upwards, away from the point where the explosion began. Bottles, broken pieces of furniture, sections of torn rope and canvas flew all around them. Finally, their eyes found each other and they began to communicate telepathically, something they hadn't done before.

The ship is exploding.

Is that what that is?

I wonder what caused it.

Should we do something?

Maybe, but what?

Those two are about to be pierced by wooden stakes, maybe get them out of the way?

Captain said nothing about saving them in case of an explosion.

Captain didn't know there would be an explosion, did he?

Shut up, do we save them or not?

Maybe just push them out of the way a little. Hmm, a little more to the left. There you go.

What about this one? The one called Frank Zhang.

He wasn't too bad. Maybe push him further away from the explosion. The girl too, he was supposed to look after her.

Captain will want the girl to live.

Fine, I'll go with them, make sure they don't drown.

Wait, what about Captain? And Will?

I guess one of us should go check on them.

I'll go. I'll make sure they don't die too much. Hearth is with Magnus, isn't he? He should know what to do.

I wonder who is shooting at us.

Oh, look. That cannonball is heading straight for the gunpowder storage. Maybe we should stop chatting about it and get a move on?

Hmm, you have a point.

Have we reached an agreement, then? We should preserve the lives of those onboard?

I think you're taking this way too seriously, but whatever. Sure.

You suck. Fine, see y'all later. Valhalla!

Valhalla!

Valhalla!

Valhalla!

The ghosts dissipated into thin air, each one reappearing next to the men and women they chose to take charge of.

Inside the Captain's cabin, Hearthstone narrowed his eyes as he calculated the possibilities. He did not sense Will's instructions, but that was because he probably had no idea they were under fire. Hearthstone knew the moment the cannonball had been fired because, much like Gunderson, he had felt it zoom through the air. Now the question was, what would Will want him to do now? He would not be receiving any instructions until Will came to terms with what had happened, and by then, he might be dead. So, Hearth had to improvise.

Of the five living occupants of the cabin, Hearthstone was in charge of Magnus. His instructions had been to watch over him at all times. That, he would do. But then again, what would happen to the rest?

The broken window in the back was large enough, so he could gather all five of them and push them into the sea in one go. In the wink of an eye, Hearthstone disappeared and reappeared by the window, gazing down at the water. He was surprised to see about two dozen small dinghies floating a safe distance away. An advance rescue mission, possibly?

What are you doing? You are supposed to be taking care of Magnus!

Hearth turned and caught T.J.'s eyes. He made a few complicated signs with his hands.

Oh, a rescue mission? That's nice. We should get them there safely. Onboard those dinghies. Oh, by the way, a cannonball is about to hit the gunpowder storage. We should hurry.

Hearth's eyes widened. He smacked his forehead and made a sharp sign with his right hand.

Alright, alright. There really was no need for that, by the way. We are all in the same team. You take Magnus, Will and the girl, they're closest to the window. I'll take Captain and this other one here.

All five ghosts pummeled into the sea, each one of them taking the form of a bubble and wrapping themselves around their charges. The compartment that held the gunpowder exploded the second the cannonball connected, though the damage was minimal. The Charon didn't carry much gunpowder to begin with, and while it was enough to tear the ship in two, it did not completely destroy it. The aft half caught on fire, the other half promptly sunk.

Gunderson had been mid-air when the explosion hit, expelling him and his charges much further than the rest, hitting the water far away from the epicenter of the explosion.

When they resurfaced from the water, only the girl was still conscious. She coughed and screamed as she kicked herself up, treading water.

"What—what the fuck? What happened—? Captain! Captain Grace!" she yelled.

In the distance, she could see what was left of the ghost vessel, its sail on fire. She looked around desperately and found another figure floating a few inches over the water, then to her horror, she watched it sink.

"Captain Grace!" she bellowed, swimming towards him. She dove and managed to pull the man up. Sharp pain pierced her side, and she realized with a howl of pain she must have broken a few ribs. She would not be able to hold him out of the water and swim them to safety—not when the Argo II lay so far away, and there was no land for miles.

"Help! Help!" she gurgled, water filling her mouth and making her cough.

"You should let go of him. He will pull you down if you don't," said a strong voice beside her. She turned and screamed. The ghost that had followed them up the mast floated next to her, his feet above the water.

"Help me!" she screamed, just as his companion's weight dragged her back under the water. She kicked and managed to resurface, but only for a few seconds before she was pulled down again.

The ghost rolled his eyes.

"Ugh. Fine, don't let it be said Halfborn Gunderson turned his back on a damsel in distress!"

With that, he disappeared into the water, then quickly resurfaced dragging a stretch of canvas and a couple of long, wooden planks. He spread the canvas over the surface of the water, then placed the planks parallel to each other, fashioning a makeshift floating device of sorts. He fished the figures out of the water and threw them onto the canvas. The material sunk a few inches into the water as the two figures were thrown over it, but their upper bodies managed to stay above the surface.

Reyna coughed and spat a mouthful of water before throwing herself on top of the other figure.

"Captain," she said, but when her vision cleared, she realized it wasn't Jason.

It was Leo, and he was not breathing. Reyna turned to the ghost, her eyes pleading, her mouth wide open, silently beckoning him to explain.

Then, as if he had been summoned away, Halfborn disappeared, a look of utter shock on his face as he stared at his increasingly translucent hands.

"Oh, this doesn't feel right—" he said, as his voice died away.

Reyna screamed, scared and enraged. She had half a mind to push Leo back into the sea and swim back into the chaos in search of her lost Captain, until something caught her eye. A lone figure, like an injured dolphin, broke the surface then dipped back down as it swam towards her. She heard her name, but it couldn't be. She narrowed her eyes until she made sense of what she was seeing. She gasped, then rolled back into the sea.

About a mile away from where Reyna floated, Will broke the surface with a gasp. He coughed and treaded water, trying to keep himself afloat. He looked around wildly, his long hair smacking him on the face with each sharp turn.

"Nico! Nico!" he yelled, spitting out the water that filled his mouth with every breath.

All around him was chaos. The Charon, or what was left of it, creaked and howled as large sections of its hull fell apart before his eyes. The main mass that made up its hull began to pull him down as it sank, disappearing into the water. Will began to swim away from it, kicking fiercely against the pull of the sinking monster.

He suddenly saw something moving closer to him from his periphery. He turned and his eyes landed on a hand that was being offered to him. He took it without hesitation and he felt the thing pull him away from the sinking vessel. Blinking salt water out of his eyes, his vision sharpened enough for Hearthstone to come into focus. The ghost tore through the water, his midriff buried underwater, with Annabeth thrown over his shoulder, and he seemed to be pulling Magnus from the scruff of his shirt. They were both unconscious.

"Where is Nico?" Will asked desperately, wiping his face with his sleeve.

Hearthstone frowned at him. It took Will a few seconds to remember that Hearthstone could not speak. He searched his mind for the other ghosts, but Hearthstone shook his head. It was difficult to understand him through their mental link, as Hearthstone tended to communicate with signs or images, but Will got the gist—the other ghosts were seeing to the safety of the rest. Calling them would summon them over, but the others would be left to drown.

Will cursed. He looked around and spotted a dinghy rowing closer to them.

"What is this? Hearth, what is this? Who are they?" he asked, but before Hearthstone could communicate with him, he turned to Will with a look of shock on his face.

The ghost raised his hands to speak but before he could convey his message, he disappeared. Will felt him vanish beneath him, just as he, Annabeth and Magnus fell back into the sea.

Feeling the icy water swallow his head, Will kicked his legs as hard as he could. He resurfaced and looked around. Annabeth floated on her back next to him, but Magnus sunk as easily as if he had been made of tone. Will dove down to collect him, thinking of Nico and how he might be about to sink somewhere hear him. But he couldn't let Magnus die and go in search of Nico instead, he couldn't and he wouldn't. He pulled Magnus up and broke surface again, gasping for breath.

He thanked Odin when a hand—a human hand—was offered to him. Two more hands appeared over the edge of a black dinghy, pulling Annabeth out of the water. The same was repeated with Magnus, then himself. When his back hit the floor of the dinghy, Will felt the tip of a blade digging into his throat.

"In the name of Captain Thunderbeard, Captain of the Argo and Governor of Sardinia, you are under arrest."

In one swift movement, Will slapped the blade away. He got to his feet with the agility of a cat and shoved the man into the sea. He had been about to jump back into the water and swim until he found Nico, when someone else spoke.

"Do not move, or this one gets it," said the voice. Will turned slowly and saw a man holding a blade to Magnus's neck.

That moment of hesitation was enough for the man behind him to toss a rope around Will's neck, pulling him sharply until his knees hit the floor.

Will realized, as he looked around, that dozens of dinghies surrounded them, and some of them were far ahead, searching the water for survivors. A few yards away, he saw Jason being pulled out of the sea. He was unconscious, or might even have been dead.

Will thought of his ghosts, desperately calling them to him, but none came. He thought of Nico, wishing their mental link still worked, but found only silence. Desperate, exhausted and in more physical pain than he had been in his life, he remembered the source of the curse's power. He looked down, as his hands were tied behind him, and found nothing. The sash around his waist had been all but shredded in the explosion. There was nothing he could do, and when a hard blow landed on the back of his head, he simply crumpled over and knew no more.

When Will woke up, hours must have gone by, because he found himself in a dark cell onboard an unknown vessel, with shackles on both arms and legs. He looked around and saw several figures chained next to him.

"Wh—what happened?" he asked. His voice was hoarse and he was desperately thirsty.

He recognized Frank's voice straightaway.

"Pirates," he replied. "The worst kind. Privateers. I think."

"Where is Nico?" he asked. As his eyes began to grow accustomed to the darkness, he managed to make out the other two shapes. One was Magnus, the other was Jason Grace, both of them had passed out. Nico was nowhere to be seen.

"Where is Nico, indeed," said a gruff voice from the other side of the room. Will looked up, narrowing his eyes to catch the man's face in the darkness.

"Who are you?" he asked.

The man let out a gruff laugh, then got to his feet. He walked into the light, the one feeble oil lamp on the floor just between them. He had a thick, white beard and carried himself with great confidence. His clothes were elegant and he brandished about half a dozen weapons on his belt, Will could hear the pistols clinking against each other, and he could smell the distinctive, pungent smell of gunpowder.

"I am Thunderbeard, and you must be William Solace. I have been looking forward to meeting you. Now, I will ask you one more time. Where is Nico di Angelo?"

Will's eyes widened. He began to think fast. They had been ambushed, that's for sure, the question was, by whom? Who the hell was Thunderbeard? The name did sound strangely familiar. Did he have anything to do with Percy Jackson? He must have, because he could not see the Captain here anywhere. Or could it be that Jackson had somehow managed to get away? Had he survived? Had Nico? He decided the only thing he could do was tell the truth.

"I don't know, I don't even know if he's alive," he replied, his voice catching in his throat as real despair filled him.

Next to him, Jason began to stir.

Thunderbeard tilted his head in Jason's direction. His own electric blue eyes widened as he realized something important. Ignoring his proximity to the other captives, he closed the distance between him and the fallen man with the golden hair in two powerful strides, then knelt at his side, tilting the man's face towards him.

The chains to which Will was shackled were so short he could not even scratch his own nose, but he would have longed nothing more than to wring that man's neck as he knelt so close beside him, inspecting Jason's face. If he had been responsible for the attack, and Will was sure he had been, he would pay dearly for it.

Then something completely unexpected happened.

Will heard a voice in his head.

LESSER MASTER—

Will jumped, looking around. Alex, that was Alex's voice! He closed his eyes and concentrated as hard as he could.

ALEX, WHERE ARE YOU?

A cacophony of wails and whimpers answered back. Will closed his eyes and shook his head, trying to rid himself of the extra noise, trying to find Alex's voice. Then his eyes landed on Thunderbeard's hand. There, on his pinky, was Nico's skull ring.

I CAN HEAR YOU! I CAN HEAR YOU, LESSER MASTER! YOU MUST GET THE RING! GET THE RING BACK! IT'S THE ONLY WAY!

Will gasped, not daring to believe his ears nor his eyes. The ring was there, just within arm's reach, but he was shackled to the wall and could no sooner reach out as he couldn't sprout an additional head and bite the thing off the man's finger for all he tried.

Thunderbeard's face was cast in shadows, but when he turned and the light caught him, Will did a double take. His eyes were extremely familiar.

"Ganymede!" roared the man, getting to his feet.

A powerfully built man came into the room, holding a set of keys.

"Have you chosen which one you want to torture first? Or will it be one of the girls?" he said amusedly.

"What have you done to her? Don't you dare touch her!" bellowed Frank Zhang, getting to his knees and pulling so hard at his shackles the iron pegs actually whined.

"This one is strong, perhaps he needs a bit of the old—" said the man called Ganymede, interrupting himself as he aimed a hard kick straight at Frank's jaw.

Will let out a loud, tortured groan as he watched the powerful man he considered somewhat of a friend crumple over. It took him a few deep breaths to tear his mind away from Frank and search for the ghostly voice of Alex, whom he had deemed long lost.

ALEX, WHY DOES HE HAVE THE RING? WHAT HAPPENED TO OCTAVIAN?

Thunderbeard walked towards the door, taking the ring—his only means of communicating with Alex—away from him.

"Leave the girls for later. Collect the one on the right. Take him upstairs."

"To the interrogation room? To the deck? Are we to toss him overboard?" asked Ganymede a little too excitedly.

Thunderbeard turned to Ganymede, his face impassive.

"To my cabin."

Ganymede's face soured. He looked at Jason with something like hate in his eyes.

Will watched as Jason was roughly taken away, his mind racing. Thunder…whatever, the ring, Alex, then something else… something about sardines.

In a second, it all clicked into place. Thunderbear! (Was that his name?) Nico had told him about the threat to their lives, including his father, by that other pirate. The man who took over Sardinia and ordered their deaths. Octavian must have been working for him all along. He must have found a way to dislodge Nico's ring from Octavian's throat. Distantly, Will wondered if Octavian had survived that, not that he cared much either way.

Two facts had become clear to him in the span of a few minutes. One, Thunderbear, or whatever his name was, was solely responsible for the attack. He was looking for Nico because… because the ring still belonged to him! He needed Nico dead in order to take the ring for himself! But didn't he know… had he not realized that it wouldn't work for him regardless of whether Nico lived or not? The curse could not be transferred, not like that, anyway. Not through theft or violence.

Through love, he thought, remembering Annabeth's words.

Will's head began to throb. How he longed to simply crumple over and sleep. The filthy floorboards looked so inviting, but he couldn't. He needed to go through the facts one last time, at least just so he wouldn't forget.

The second fact was so simple it was hard to believe. Alex was still alive, in a sense, somewhere. Trapped within a small distance from the ring that had given her life. He, Will, could sense her because he also carried some remnants of Nico's power. He looked down at his midriff, his sash had completely disintegrated. Had they been wrong about it, all along? He wasn't sure how, or why, but that didn't matter. He needed to get close to Thunder—whatever, and he needed to do so fast, before anybody else got hurt. He needed to get that ring back, and Will's mouth twitched when he thought of slicing off the man's entire arm for good measure.

And finally, before he keeled over and completely passed out, Will's mind lingered to Nico. Where was he? Was he still alive? He must be, otherwise the ring would not have brought Alex's voice to him in its proximity.

Nico must be alive. He must be. The question was, how? And most importantly, where was he?

After the explosion, Percy hit the water with surprising gentleness. He looked wildly around. A ghost had wrapped itself around him and—Nico. Fucking Nico di fucking Angelo. It had to be him, of all people. Nico was unconscious, but the ghost carried most of his weight as they floated anyway. Percy hadn't seen the ghost's face before, now, he could clearly distinguish his features. He did so in a fraction of a second—committing his face to memory. Dark-skinned, short cropped hair, large forehead and thin lips. He would not be forgetting his face anytime soon.

Distantly, another booming sound called his attention back to the Charon. Half of the ship had caught on fire, as the other broke off and began to sink. Percy looked around.

Okay, he thought to himself. Privateers, pirates, more like. Attack on the ghost ship—best case scenario, a random attack. But no, there are too many ships. This was calculated. Nico couldn't have set this up because he is dumb as fuck. William Solace, perhaps? Crew, gone. Possibly dead. Land, too far. First things first, get out of the water. Get as far away from those ships as possible.

He turned and spotted the ghost holding an unconscious Nico barely a few inches above the surface of the water.

The ghost looked curiously at Percy, as if he had never seen anyone quite like him before.

"Can you take us to land?" Percy asked the ghost. It wasn't phrased as a command, as he would have ordinarily spoken, to anyone except Annabeth. A pang of guilt went through him as he thought of her, but he was not about to dwell too much on that. They had an agreement. She could take care of herself. To his chagrin, her worst fears had come to pass; they were separated, and he was stuck with Nico. This seemed to calm him down a little. He only hoped Annabeth had managed to stay with William Solace.

"We should go back, there are rescue boats—" said the ghost.

"Those aren't rescue boats, you moron! Those are pirates, they've destroyed the ship and are coming to collect the survivors!" Percy yelled back.

He was a magnificent swimmer, but even he could not tread water forever, much less after such an explosion. His ears were still ringing, and he felt a sharp pain on his thigh—perhaps a large splinter had pierced him. If the ghost would not help, then he would have to drag Nico to land himself, even if that meant swimming until his legs gave out.

The ghost arched an eyebrow, apparently not taking offense at Percy's insult.

"You sure?" he asked.

"You want your Captain to survive? You take us as far away as you possibly can! Head to land! Now!" he bellowed, catching Nico by the scruff of his neck and beginning to swim away.

The ghost hesitated.

"You'll never get past them like that, here, let me help," the ghost said, nodding at the dinghies that lined the circumference.

Percy had been about to tell the ghost off for wasting his time, but he was suddenly pulled by the leg and submerged deep into the ocean. He felt as if he had been caught in a large net and pulled along a powerful ship. He opened his eyes under the water—it was dark but he could make out the silhouette of Nico being pulled beside him, if only barely. He looked down at his leg and saw the silvery outline of a ghost wrapped around him, slicing through the water at an amazing speed. He knew what had happened before they breached. The ghost knew they wouldn't be able to get past the dinghies that surrounded them, so the only way was to go under them.

Clever, for a ghost.

When they broke the surface again, Percy was panting. He could have held his breath a bit longer than that, but he was glad the ghost had deemed it safe enough to resurface, because Nico was turning blue.

Fucking Nico di Angelo.

They had made it long past the boats, in the far distance the Charon had almost sunk entirely and the Argo II was surrounded by ships, now brightly lit. However, they were safe, at least for the time being. That is, if Nico di Angelo wasn't dead.

A part of Percy wished Nico was actually dead, then they could all go back to living their old lives, but as he caught Nico's blank expression, his eyes peacefully closed, Percy saw Bianca, as clear as daylight, her features on Nico's face.

"Fuck," he hissed, swimming to Nico. "Hold him up," he commanded the ghost, all pretense lost now. He was in charge, and he would not let Nico die.

The ghost dove into the sea, touching his back to Nico's and holding him steady as Percy pinched Nico's nose and pried his mouth open. Percy took a deep breath, readying to exhale into Nico's mouth, when Nico suddenly opened his eyes and screamed.

"What the—GETTHEFUCKOFFME, PERCY JACKSON!" he howled, shoving Percy as far away from him as possible, even aiming a kick at Percy's stomach as he did so.

Percy fell back into the water, but resurfaced a second later, coughing and spluttering violently.

Nico looked at the ghost.

"T.J.! Where are the others? What happened? Where is Will?" he asked, stifling a cough, still throwing hateful looks at Percy, who had barely managed to catch his breath.

But T.J. did not reply. Instead, he looked at Nico almost pleadingly.

"T.J.?" Nico asked again, sounding desperate.

"I don't know—" T.J. replied, just as he disappeared into the night.

Nico's eyes widened, and he felt as if he had been punched. He turned in the direction of the ship and saw what was left of the Charon on fire. Will. Will, he must go back for him, he must! He would not let him—

He was barely aware of his surroundings as Percy aimed a magnificent kick to his head, shoving Nico's face into the water. In a second, Nico was out like a light.

"You little shit," Percy hissed through gritted teeth, as he collected Nico by the arm and began to swim away from the ships, towards the closest stretch of land he could discern. "I don't know why I keep saving your life. One of these days, I'm really gonna kill you."

It wasn't the first time Captain Perseus Jackson was forced to take a dip in the ocean, but it was the first time he had to drag someone's inert body as he treaded water. He felt like a floating cork, and it was impossible to tell if he was advancing at all. He swam for what felt like hours—perhaps it had been hours, when he suddenly spotted a white… something in the distance.

At this point, he didn't care if they were friends or foes—he could take them, he thought, so long as they were no more than four or five. But as the little white dot came into focus, he realized with a jolt that he recognized one of the silhouettes.

"Reyna!" he yelled, just as he sank back into the water. He managed to resurface with difficulty, and for the first time, he wondered if it had been stupid to knock Nico unconscious, as his dead weight dragged him into the depths of the ocean.

In the distance, Reyna perked up, and when it finally looked as if she had recognized him, she rolled off the stretch of canvas on which she had been floating, and began to swim in his direction. She was injured, this much Percy could tell by the way she swam, but she made it to them nonetheless.

"Where are the others?" she asked desperately, treading water.

"I don't know, help me get him out of the water," Percy replied, tugging Nico out of the water and onto Reyna's shoulder. She sank under Nico's weight, but resurfaced with an expression of stone-carved determination.

They made it back onto the floating stretch of canvas, where Leo still lay. Percy looked around. They were a safe distance away from the commotion, and land was only a few yards away.

"Captain… Captain Grace…" she stammered.

Percy's eyes scanned her features. She must have been in incredible pain, and yet she treaded water, hanging onto one of the planks.

"No word yet. We must get to land. One thing at a time, Reyna. You need to survive to get your revenge," he said, swimming to the opposite plank.

Reyna pursed her lips, then nodded.

"Can you kick?" he asked.

"We'll soon find out," she replied, and they both began to push the planks that held the canvas between them—and the two unconscious occupants—towards land.

Piper woke up with a throbbing headache. She shook her head and massaged her temple, as she recalled what had transpired over the past few minutes—hours? days? The ship had exploded, that much was fact. She remembered the force of the explosion that had all but pierced her eardrums. She remembered resurfacing from the water, then the silhouette of a female ghost as she carried her towards a floating barrel that had somehow managed to survive the explosion. Then the ghost was gone and she was all alone. She remembered being rescued by human hands.

She looked around as she massaged her temples. She found herself in a small cell, her clothes drenched and covered in blood. Was she ever not covered in blood? Was it even her own blood? She felt her body for injuries and realized there was a large gash on her chest where something sharp had grazed her. Superficial. She needn't worry about it. She returned to taking in her surroundings.

The room was empty but for herself. No ghosts, no water, no weapons.

"Fuck," she hissed, as realization hit her. "I be a prisoner."

She began to think fast. She had been in a similar situation no fewer than three times in the past—the last one leading to her being drafted onboard a pirate ship, which she believed was the best thing that ever happened to her. She prompted herself to analyze her current situation. Ghost vessel attacked, that was a fact since she had seen the damn thing go up in flames herself. Yet she did not recall seeing the Argo II explode. Perhaps the ship was still intact.

Perhaps…

She looked around again, and her eyes widened. She recognized her surroundings. She was onboard one of the lower decks of the Argo II, the one used for captives. She was home!

A plan began to form in her head. If her suspicions were correct, then the Argo II had been taken by pirates. Oh, how she hoped they were pirates. She licked her lips with delight as she imagined the blood that she was yet to spill.

They will rue the day, she thought hungrily.

Then her thoughts moved to Captain Jason Grace. She frowned distastefully, wary of her concern for the lesser Captain. She decided to put him behind her, at least for time being. If Jason Grace was still alive, she would find him, eventually. If he wasn't, then those responsible for his death would pay dearly. Now, she needed to get to work. There was a ship to recapture, and prove to Leo, once and for all, that a woman could retake an entire ship from an army of men.

When the door creaked open, Piper whimpered pathetically from her spot on the farthest corner. She shivered from head to foot, her disheveled hair dramatically draped over her face.

"Spoils of war," said a man's voice from the door as he smacked his lips. He sounded old and disgusting. She turned and could barely distinguish the man's features as he approached her. It did not matter, she had a job to do. She began to whimper as if on cue.

"Please, please," she pleaded, her voice two octaves higher. "Please! I've been captive! Please, save me! Pirates took me… I don't know… I don't know what has happened…"

The men that closed in on her showed no sympathy for her pleading, one of them going as far as unfastening his sash, before another sound, deeper and haughtier than the rest, broke into the room.

"Remove yourselves, men," the voice commanded. He sounded young, childish even.

Piper barely dared to look up. She wouldn't have minded a rape—in fact, she would have welcomed it, as she knew she could physically take it and would have disclosed a lot of necessary information. Yet the man who spoke made the rest of them cower back.

"Spoils of war are to be collected by rank," he said darkly.

Inwardly, Piper cursed. A strong-willed man would be harder to break than the rest.

"Please," she cried, drawing her knees up to her chest theatrically. How men could fall for stunts like that, she would never know.

Piper whimpered pathetically, covering her sneer with her hair and exaggerating the shaking of her shoulders and arms.

Are you the man I must seduce? she silently asked the man who approached her.

She began to sob, channeling the sobs of all the women she had heard throughout her life.

"Please," she whimpered yet again. "I just want to see my mother. All I want is to let her know I'm alright." She had no mother, had never known one, yet she knew men who would practically lactate at the mention of their own mothers.

She could practically hear the man lick his lips as he approached her, his voice soft and velvety.

"Worry not, lass," he said. "My name is Luke Castellan, and I shall take good care of you. I shall take good care of you indeed."

Piper saw the man's sash drop to the floor, as she withdrew herself into an iron cocoon she had fashioned for herself a long time ago, one she had hoped never to see again, yet she knew would protect her. Thus was the peril of women who dared to take to the seas. She was ready.

"Please," were her last words, as Luke Castellan fell upon her.

She screamed and cried, putting on a good show, but all the while, her mind raced. The men could take her body, but not her mind. In the desperate position she found herself in, she welcomed the strength that fueled her with every breath she took. She was alive. She was alive. They could gnash her down, but so long as she could draw breath, she would fight back, mentally, spiritually, they would not break her.

And she had just the plan to achieve her goals.

Once Luke Castellan was done with her, Piper gathered herself into her arms, whimpering pathetically for a mother she didn't care for.

"Please," she cried.

She knew it had worked. She knew it had worked before she even looked up, as Luke Castellan closed the door behind him and locked the bolt with the key around his belt, forbidding other men to come into her cell.

"Mine," Piper heard him say, and smiled.

"No, darling," she whispered to herself, as she held onto her legs, "you are mine, and mine alone. And before this is over, I shall eat your face."

Piper fell asleep sore and in pain, but with a dangerous smile drawn across her face.