The Lost Prince

⇀ six

PERCY WAS STARTING to think that he was getting a lot faster at processing certain things, because when nightfall came, he was ready. He made sure to send a silent prayer of thanks to Artemis. The moonlight shone through the barred window on the center of the stone wall on his left. He was in the brig along with the other slaves—except for Piper. None of them had seen her ever since two of the crew disappeared below deck with her in their arms. His thumb outlined the peculiar shaped dent on the ancient Greek coin Annabeth had handed him earlier that day. He didn't know what it was, but he had the feeling that it was something of importance.

He was deep in his own thoughts, but a flash of silver caught his attention. He squinted through the darkness. Finally, he spotted a mop of blonde hair in a similar holding cell diagonal from his. Perseus wanted to give Annabeth a bone-crushing hug—the girl was so damn smart. Two long flashes of light followed a short one, before one last quick flash. Using the Morse Code was a hobby of his when he was younger; Leo had taught it to Percy and Annabeth as a joke, but it developed into their way of communication—during meals for Leo and Percy, and whenever one royal heir visited the palace of the other.

It went on like that—using the reflection of the moonlight and the piece of metal the two had—for what seemed like hours. Occasionally, the bulky Chinese-Canadian pirate stationed to guard them would look back, eyeing the slaves for a few moments, before facing the hallway once again.

Percy didn't gain much information about him in the four years wherein he was held captive in the massive ship. He only knew that the name of the boy was Frank Zhang—a descendant of a son of Poseidon, it seemed—and that he was dead accurate with a bow and arrow.

Finally, Percy signed good night to Annabeth before he tucked the coin back into his pocket. The last thing he saw before his eyelids fluttered shut was the warm smile on the blonde princess' face.

———————

The prince of Epirus found himself standing in a dimly lit room, right in front of a mahogany desk, where a world map was spread out. There were several pinpoints that seemed to represent different ships. Percy then eyed the man whose back was turned on him. He was leaning over the said table, intently studying and muttering under his breath.

"Captain di Angelo!" came a hardened voice of a woman. Someone was pounding on the wooden door not to far from the boy who was bent over. He let out a disgruntled sigh and stood up straight. His dark hair was clipped short, his brown eyes held the look of pain, and his olive skin looked almost translucent.

"What do you want, LaRue?" the one called di Angelo shouted, not bothering to open the door. A chill ran down the spine of Percy. His voice was cold and commanding; not too much unlike the captain of the Aegis herself.

"Some of our scouts have spotted a ship near the coast of Olympia!" the girl called from outside the quarters of the captain. "It's hundred miles due north, with yellow sails!"

The teenage captain scowled. "Tell the others to show a leg, Clarisse. I want them out and lined up on the deck in ten!"

"Aye, cap."

Then her footsteps faded away. Percy scanned the room: there were several ancient-looking, leather bound books placed neatly on a small shelf, which was right beside the arsenal of weapons. Firearms, swords, daggers, axes, and spears, but they were all made from some sort of black material that Percy didn't recognize.

Suddenly, di Angelo turned to face him. "I can sense that you're there even if I can't see you, you know."

His tone was softer, but that didn't change the mind of the prince in any way. Percy knew from experience that he couldn't talk during dreams, but what could saying something possibly do to affect him? He was only there in his dream.