The Lost Prince

⇀ two

HE HAD BEEN mopping the floor with nothing but a worn out and blackened rag when he heard the sound of excited murmuring. Percy knew what that meant, since he had heard it so many times before. The crew of the Aegis had captured more people to make their slaves.

He glanced at the girl next to him, her wrists and ankles bound with metal chains. Her name was Reyna Avilla Ramírez Arellano. She and her sister, Hylla, had arrived in the ship not too long after he did; which was about four years ago. They both wore similar clothes: white ancient Greek styled dresses.

Anger flashed in Reyna's eyes, and Percy saw her grip tighten on the damp ugly piece of cloth. He watched as Hylla gave her sister a warning look, shaking her head vaguely. Beside the older Arellano sister was his best friend, Leo Valdez. All four of them continued scrubbing the floor in silence, ignoring the dull aching muscles of their arms.

Percy felt a sharp pain on his side, and he forced himself not to wince.

"Move faster, ye swab!"

Octavian peered down on him, a smug smile on his scrawny face. His blond hair was swept to the right, and he had a yellow bandana tied around his neck. Percy resisted the urge to strangle him with it. Several daggers were strapped on a thick piece of cloth around his waist. His black khaki shorts were one size too big on him, and the leather belt was the only thing holding it up. However, unlike most of the crew members, he decided to have a shirt on. It was a plain white polo, half of it was unbuttoned, exposing the pale skin that showed off his ribcage. Octavian opened his mouth as if he was going to say something else, but he was cut off by a shrill commanding voice.

"Weigh anchor!"

The captain, whom the pirates knew as the Hunter, stood on the quarterdeck. No one dared disobey her orders. The last one who did...Percy shuddered. He didn't want to think about the fate of the poor guy.

The sound of the chain attached to the anchor reeling slowly into the hawsehole filled the silence in tense atmosphere. Two figures stepped into the view: Ethan and Butch. Both had a large brown woven sack over their shoulders. All the four slave-made demigods glared at the wooden floorboards and scrubbed their foul smelling cloths harder, occasionally shoving them into the buckets filled with soap and water.

Two loud thumps and several wolf whistles suddenly came. Percy risked a look at the newly captured people. He saw a mop of familiar golden blonde hair, sitting up right next to a slumped figure. Her braid was undone halfway. The prince couldn't see her face, as she was looking at the other direction.

"M'lady," said a girl standing behind the captain. From what Percy could remember, her name was Phoebe. She wore white pantaloons and a short brown top that exposed her toned midriff. And, of course, boots. What sort of pirate wouldn't wear boots?

———————

Annabeth felt her shoulder hit something hard, and based on the creaking of wood and the way the floor kept tilting, she figured that she was in the ship with the yellow sails. The Mist that wrapped around her neck was thick enough to conceal the necklace for at least twelve more hours, regardless if she was concentrating on it or not.

Then the princess felt the sack bag being pulled off of her, completely ruining her hair. She let out an indignant huff of annoyance. Suddenly, bright white light threatened to blind her. She put her hands over her eyes as she blinked the dancing white spots out of her vision. Annabeth had grown used to the darkness from her trip with the pirate posing as her bodyguard. Based on how she had hit the deck at a certain angle, she figured that the one that sacked her was the boy named Butch.