She's a Pirate - Percy Jackson Fanfiction

Chapter 1

Captain Chase was never shipmate material.  The minute she stepped on a boat, she owned it.  And everyone knew it, too.  If you didn’t understand that she made the plays, you’d be swimming with the sharks before you could say ‘Hit the Deck’.

Some landlubbers might disagree.  “A woman,” they think, “leading the crew is dangerous, unorthodox.  She’ll sink it with her wayward emotions and ladylike uncertainties.”  Then, they drown, of course, because she has pillaged their boat and sunk it with a flick of her hand.  She was no lady; she was a captain, and demanded to be treated as such.

The way she spoke, the way she fought, the way she held herself, declared her position.  And no one was willing to fight against it.  Until shipmate Jackson came aboard.

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Captain Chase stood Quarter Deck and looked down upon her crew.  Her sharp gray eyes flicked back and forth, observing silently for any danger as the ship was loaded.  The sun was hot and heavy upon them, making swords glint and cannons glimmer.  The day was unnaturally pleasant, an incredible sea breeze wafting over the desk. 

They had just recently docked in a hidden bay near Greece.  This certain bay was known for its illegal transactions and untrustworthy merchants.  Of course, who was trustworthy in this pirate’s bay of stolen items and slaves?

From her position near the poop deck, she could see much.  She preferred to think of herself as a hawk, not too high on the lookout deck, but just high enough to scope out the entirety around her.  Greece was indeed a magnificent place this time of year, with a banquet of healthy greens and earthy golds below the cerulean sky.  To her left, merchants made shop, selling their no-doubt deceitfully pricey goods to the sailors.  To her right, a limestone cliff jutted outward, taller than any church peak she had ever seen.

They were near launch, all the needed supplies packed and in order, but there was one more thing she was looking for.  The appearance of her Quartermaster, Grover, signaled its arrival.

Grover scurried on board, and up to her, his gait unkempt and awkward because of his peg leg.  A smile was on his face as he lept almost goat-like toward her.  Grover, though clumsy and slightly cowardly, was an old friend of the Captain’s, and she trusted him dearly.

“Shipment is coming now,” he reported, “Should be less’an’a minute, Cap.”

She nodded.  “Thank you, Grover.  How many?”

“’Bout three or four, Cap.  But they’re good ones, I tell ya’.  One of ‘em-“

Chase waved him off with a dismissal gesture; they were coming in now.  She turned her attention toward the line of slaves, each connected to each other with a line of heavy rope.  The dark skinned man who led them was her old friend Charles, who worked with the cannons down below.  He was a massive creature, despite his giant heart, and she liked to send him for the slaves.  Not only for the intimidation effect, but also to keep the slaves in line, in case they were feeling rebellious.  Last time Grover was sent to purchase them, he lost a girl named Thalia, who was said to be a great fighter.

She stood tall, hands behind her back and shoulders thrust outward as Charles led their serfs up on deck.  She observed each and every one of them, judiciously and with an honest eye. 

The first was a short man, thin and gangly- not too impressive.  But she trusted he had practice in the art of fighting, as one of his eyes was covered by a notorious eye patch, a deep scar running up and down below it. 

The next, a ghost-looking creature, short and small, but his eyes showed an unspeakable darkness.  His hair was long and black, running in locks down to his shoulders.  He didn’t look much like he’d manage on a ship- in fact, he didn’t look like he’d manage outside.  His skin was shockingly pale and almost translucent.  Only kings and queens had skin that fair- and even then, his looked like the color had been sucked out of his veins, leaving him lifeless. 

The third, a brilliant red headed woman, with a scattering of freckles over her face.  Her eyes were big and curious, looking all around her as if she’d never seen a ship before.  Her skin was pale as well, and almost delicate looking, giving Annabeth the impression that she was from a rich family.  Annabeth scowled at that, she hated the rich with their haughty and succulent lifestyles, thinking they were so pure.  She was ready to show this girl the ropes of gritty reality.

Captain Chase saw the last one.  And almost swore. 

“Halt!” she called.  Charlie, who was going to lead them below deck froze immediately, along with the four others.  They were now standing in the very center of the deck, their hands tied submissively in front of them, all in a line.  Annabeth strode purposefully toward the last man, a fiery glint in her eye that her crew had learned to cower at.  This one had not.

He stood erect in front of her, unblinking as she neared him.  He was built like a swordsman, tall and sleek with muscles but not overly so.  His raven hair was windswept and messy, tied back with a strip of canvas.  His skin was dark and distinctly Grecian, with small scars across his hands and face. 

“A swordsman, eh?”  Captain stated, observing these battle-earned scars and the leather wrapped around his hands.

“Hell yeah,” he smiled.

Internally, Annabeth sighed.  Another rebellious one.  He needed to learn his place.

He wore peasant’s garments, a loose, threadbare shirt that revealed his scarred, muscular chest and cotton pants that ended at his ankles.  He was clearly a veteran sailor, with a sun tanned face, a hoop earring of silver and a trident ink mark down his forearm.

His face was strong and handsome for a Grecian, and his eyes were a startling green that reminded her of her home- the sea.  They bore into her stormy gray ones, like they were equals.  This angered Chase, of course, but not as much as the object tied around her captive’s waist.

“What is this one’s name, Charles?” she asked, not giving the slave the privilege to speak.

“That’s Perseus- his master called ‘im Percy.”

“Hm.”  Annabeth looked down her nose at Percy, pacing around him like he was a beast being sold off a farmer.  She was just checking the goods.

“One of ours?” she asked.

Charles hesitated, not understanding the question.  “Yeah, we bought ‘im.”

“Mhmm,” she returned to the front.  “He’s a slave, then.  Works on this ship, does what he’s told, and does not have any free will at all.”  Charles nodded.  He didn’t understand where this was going.  “So why,” she let the acid seep through her tone, “is he armed?”

By now, the entire crew had circled around the newcomers, and all eyes had been on Captain.  Now, they landed on Percy’s waist, where a sword was strapped.  Eyes became unbearably wide, the deck was silent, and Charles feared he had made a grave mistake.

He tried to answer, but to everyone’s shock, he was rudely cut off by the slave himself. 

“I look good with a sword.”  A sly smile had formed on his face, an eyebrow quirked upward.  Captain Chase was nearly thrown off by his outstanding amount of sarcasm (and reckless stupidity, for that matter).

“You look good with a sword?” she repeated, being sure to fill every word with incredulous poison.

He didn’t take the hint.  “Yeah, it really sets off my eyes.”

“I see.”

Despite his binds, Percy leaned back on his heels and looked satisfied, “Yeah, most of the girls do.”

Annabeth’s eyes flared; their gray becoming a livid black.  Her face and posture remained a convincing calm, but one look into her eyes and fear rushed through the viewer’s body. 

The crew took one cautious step backwards, because they knew what was coming next.  Captain Chase’s biggest peeve was when she was demoted to being compared to other girls.  And like a cannon, Percy had lit her wick.

Her eyes locked onto Percy’s, although this time, Percy looked like he wanted to look away.

“Charles,” she said, “Take the other three down to the holding tiller.  Leave this one here.  Yew, tie him up against the foremast.”  Then, with malice in her eyes and to the crew’s horror, she called, “Bring Luke up.  Percy needs to learn the rules of the ship.”