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

Rating: T for dark themes and violence

Chapter 2

Three days.

That's how long it takes for Ares' ship, Bloody Boar, to reach the pirate haven. Annabeth spends those three days locked up in the brig, her only company the scrawny rats that patter around in the mildewy hay. Luckily they keep their distance, though each day they creep slightly closer.

Twice a day the pirate who captured her, who she's taken to calling Scarface since the entire right side of his face is covered in a burn scar, brings her a small mug of watered down wine and two stale biscuits. These rations are nowhere near what her body is used to, and her stomach rumbles horrendously. Her favorite part of every day is when she falls asleep, because then both her fear and hunger pangs fade, at least for a few hours.

There are no windows in the brig, so she judges time by the meals and her sleep. The ship rocks back and forth endlessly, and she spends her waking hours reliving better days. She brings back memories of her first family - her father, her mother, and herself. Those were the best days of her life. She was too young to understand poverty and she'd never known anything but slight hunger, so her joy had been unshadowed. Looking back, she realizes that her life was a lot tougher than she remembers. She's been spoiled for the last twelve years, living in her stepfather's manor with servants doting on her day and night. She's never known hunger - not true hunger, at least.

Her second family gave her a good life as well. Her stepfather was always kind to her, if detached, she still had her mother, and of course she enjoyed the privilege that came with being wealthy. She met Luke and found a best friend and eventually husband (well - almost husband).

She holds the memories tight and they help the time pass. She knows that three days in a floating cell isn't the worst that could be happening to her right now, but it's still the worst thing that ever has happened to her.

On what she judges to be her third full day aboard the Bloody Boar, Scarface comes down a third time. He has a short length of rope in his hands and the keys to the cell.

"Ready to stretch those legs of yers?" he asks, his tone taunting. Annabeth doesn't like what he's implying - even if she doesn't know exactly what he's saying.

She stands, her legs shaky from disuse, and he attaches his rope leash to her bound arms. He pushes her in front of him and forces her to climb up the ladders to the top deck.

Annabeth blinks against the bright sunlight. She judges it's around midafternoon by the position of the sun. The crewmembers are tying up the ship securely to the dock. Dozens of other pirate ships of varying sizes and even shapes are moored in either direction, flying different colors but always the black at the top. Crudely painted on names announce the ship's names: Black Spirit, Golden Chariot, Devil's Oath, and more. Annabeth was just grateful she didn't see Queen Anne's Revenge or The Flying Dutchman among them. Although she was always told those were myths, she isn't quite sure she wants to test her luck.

Beyond the ships is the port of Tortuga. From her vantage on the ship's deck, she can see a sprawling city comprised of mismatched houses and shacks. The voices of a hundred shouting vendors and drunks rings out, carrying all the way to the ship. The streets are narrow cracked cobblestones, covered in a layer of dirt, grime, and what looks to be dried blood. Smoke curls up from the houses and drifts towards the sky.

"We're goin' down to get some prices on ya," Scarface growls near her ear. "See who's the highest bidder."

A jolt of panic runs through her. "I thought you were ransoming me?"

Scarface chuckles. "If yer family decides yer worth the price, we'll sell ya to 'em. If not…" His lips stretch over his rotting teeth in a cruel smile. "Then we'll return 'ere and get the best price."

Annabeth tries to keep her face from revealing her fear. She bunches her hands in her tattered skirts and focuses back on the pirate city.

This is going to be her best chance at escape. If the inner streets and alleyways are even half as busy as they appear from here, all she has to do is get the slip from her captors and she'll be able to hide. There's only problem - if she escapes from her captors, then there's a good chance someone else will pick her up. Someone even less respectful.

She doesn't have a choice. She has to try.

The tavern is bustling with activity. Annabeth sits squashed between Ares and Scarface at a table near the door. A few other crewmembers are squeezed onto the bench on the opposite side. The waitresses bring around platters of meat and mugs of ale which get sloshed out of the rim as the women expertly avoid the pinching fingers of the pirates.

A trio of musicians play sea shanties on the far side of the room, though Annabeth can hardly hear the music past the roar of the pirates' laughter and conversation. Men with a variety of wooden limbs and bandages and tattoos sit around, arm-wrestling, having drinking competitions, and slipping coins into the bosoms of the ladies who sit on their laps in return.

Annabeth is tempted to cover her ears. She's heard more curses in the past five minutes than she's heard in her entire life, not to mention all the crude jokes, mostly at women's expense. She cowers between the two hardened pirates surrounding her, though the two barely seem to pay her any attention.

Ares has the most beautiful woman Annabeth has ever seen on his lap. He's not paying her, and the woman actually seems to enjoy being around him - Annabeth is pretty good at telling when girls are faking amusement, and this woman doesn't seem to be - so she assumes it's his wife or girlfriend. Scarface loses a bet with a pirate across the table and slams his knife in the table angrily before forking over a handful of coins.

Annabeth listens, keeping her ear strained for any information that might be helpful. She knows she can't fight her way out, so she'll have to use her brains. As friendly as the pirates seem to be, she also senses an underlying tension, as if this whole place is a powder keg about to explode.

She hears Ares growl, a deep, shockingly scary sound. She looks over and sees that his eyes are fixated on a young man sitting by himself in the corner of the tavern.

The woman on his lap strokes his chest. "Oh, don't be like that," she purrs.

"I'm going to kill that punk," Ares says, his hands clenching into fists around his knife.

"Babe, you know I like him. He's so...interesting."

"Can I just smash his face a little?"

The woman laughs. "Of course not!"

Annabeth returns her glance to the man. He's one of the younger men here, maybe twenty years old. He has wavy black hair and a clean-shaven face. He sits quietly, his eyes scanning the room as if he's searching for something - or someone. He cradles a mug between his hands. His eyes pass over Ares and he scowls slightly. Then he makes eye contact with her. She's startled by how bright his sea-green eyes are. He holds her gaze for a minute before moving on.

Before she can stop herself, she says, "Who is he?"

Ares growls again. The woman in his lap laughs.

"That's Captain Jackson. He's so young and tragic. Isn't he dashing?"

"I'll dash him through with my sword," Ares mumbles.

The woman doesn't seem bothered by his threats. "My dear Ares here had a run in with him a year ago. The kid embarrassed him. Total underdog story, but as you can imagine Ares took a hit to his rep. He's had to work extra hard the past few months to restore it."

"He was lucky. He won't be the next time we meet." Ares' knuckles are white where he's gripping his knife in his fist. "He shouldn't even be a captain. Gives a bad name to the rest of us."

Annabeth doesn't press her luck any further by asking more questions. Ares' hate for the young captain may eclipse his irritation at her for being nosy, but she won't press it any farther. Besides, she already has all the information she needs.

She silently thanks her mother for educating her and imparting her wisdom down.

"As the best pirate here, maybe you should demand them to remove him from the premises," Annabeth suggests. "You're definitely giving the tavern a lot more business than he is."

Ares glares at her, and a spike of fear moves through her, nearly immobilizing her, but after a moment his gaze softens slightly.

"You're right," he says. "I do spend a lot of time and money here. I'm their best patron!"

The woman on his lap rolls her eyes and sighs, as if she knows what's about to happen, but as she stands she winks at Annabeth.

"I'm going to go to the ladies' room, dear," she says. "Try not to get in too many fights while I'm gone."

She disappears into the crowd as Ares grabs a helpless waitress.

"I demand to speak with the owner!" he yells. She shakes slightly, but not nearly as much as Annabeth would have expected. Of course, the poor girl is probably used to dealing with pirates, so this may be a usual occurrence.

"The owner isn't around," the girl replies, shoving his arms off of her.

"Then who's in charge?" Ares roars. "I demand to speak with him!"

The tavern falls silent. Even the musicians have stopped playing. Everyone is watching the confrontation. The young captain in the corner has a slight smirk on his face as he watches.

"Ey, what makes ye think yer so special?" another pirates yells, standing. "Jus' sit back down."

Ares turns his glowering eyes to the man. "What makes me special?" he asks, his voice eerily cold. With a flash, the knife that was buried in the table is now buried in the man's chest. He falls back, his eyes rolling up into his head.

Chaos ensues. The crewmates of the man Ares had just killed yell and charge at him. Ares' men scream back and pick up their weapons. All the other drunk pirates get excited and join in the fray. Annabeth ducks under the table as the sound of screaming, gunshots, swords, and shattered bottles fills the air. The musicians begin playing a lively, upbeat song while ducking bottles and bullets.

Annabeth crawls from beneath one table to the next, trying to reach the door. She's just about to climb to her feet and make a run for it when a hand wraps around her ankle. With a cry, she's pulled back, her skin skidding across the ale and blood-soaked floor, tiny shards of glass digging into her forearms.

The hand around her ankle suddenly releases. Annabeth tugs her leg to her body and looks back. She sees the young captain standing over the slumped body of a pirate with a huge welt on his forehead. The man is holding a long bronze sword in his hand. He steps over the body of the pirate towards her and offers his free hand.

"Let's get out of here," he suggests.

Annabeth stares at his hand. "Why?"

He rolls his eyes. "Any minute now Ares is going to find me, and I highly doubt I'm going to get lucky against him a second time. If you want to be here when he returns, then by all means stay."

Annabeth meant, Why did you save me? but she doesn't stop to clarify. She raises her bound hands and the captain slices through the rope with the tip of his sword, careful not to nick her skin. Then he pulls her to her feet and they sprint out the door.

He's good with his sword. Without killing any of the pirates they cross, he uses the flat of his blade or the hilt to knock them away. He even slices a bottle in half before it hits them - Annabeth didn't even know swords could be sharp enough to do that. He navigates through the dark streets of Tortuga, illuminated only by torchlight, leading away from the tavern and towards the harbor.

Annabeth follows him closely, occasionally looking back to see if they're being followed. A few eyes peer out of the shadows, but they don't dare approach. Still, Annabeth doesn't let down her guard until they've reached the docks.

There are a few pirates loitering around, keeping guard over their ships, but they don't give them any trouble. The young captain leads her all the way down along the waterfront until they've reached the edge of the city. Only one boat is moored here, a rather small frigate without a figurehead. In the light of the portside lanterns, Annabeth vaguely sees the name Pax painted on the side.

"Pax? Doesn't that mean peace in Latin?"

He nods.

"Interesting name for a pirate ship."

He grimaces. "The ship was a gift from my father...though gift is a generous term. He's big on me making my own path, forging my own destiny."

"If you managed to beat Ares, then I'd say you're doing a pretty good job."

He shrugs. "Or a bad job. He's not a good enemy to have. His cannons could tear this ship apart in minutes. I'm close to having enough money to get a better ship, though." He hesitates, as though unsure of what to say or do next. "Do you...what are your plans now?"

Annabeth hadn't thought this far ahead. Her first goal was to escape Ares. Beyond that…

"I'm trying to get back home," she tells him. Maybe it's a mistake to tell a strange pirate she's only known for about an hour, but somehow she trusts him. Annabeth is a logical person, but occasionally she gets gut instincts so strong that she can't ignore them. Now, she has the instinct that he's the only way she'll make it back to her family. "Ares' men captured me in Chester. It was - " Her voice cracks. "It was my wedding day."

The young captain looks back over his ship. His sea green eyes seem to swirl as he thinks. When he turns back to her, she can't quite read his expression.

"I'm running an errand for a man from Chester. In a few weeks I'll be heading back there to collect payment. If you want, you can sail with me. I know it's not ideal, but we'll be making some port stops along the way. You'll probably be able to catch a ride with a cargo ship heading to Chester. Worst case, like I said, I'll be heading back as soon as my errand is finished."

It's as good a deal as she's going to get. She'd be foolish to turn it down. Still, she has the feeling that there's something he's not telling her. Another one of her instincts.

"Why did you help me at the tavern?" she asks. "You could have just ran out on your own."

He looks back over the water. "I hate Ares. He's a jerk." He turns back to her, a hint of a smile dancing along his lips. "Anything I can do to make his life worse, the better."

Annabeth holds out her hand. "I'll take up your offer. Annabeth Chase."

He lifts her hand to his lips. "Percy Jackson. Welcome aboard the Pax."