Baron Rodrick snatched the wig up from the deck, as if not believing what his eyes were seeing.
"Lacy?" He wondered. "How? What are you doing here?"
His daughter remained silent, still unconscious from whatever treatment the mercenaries had done to her.
Percy's stomach twisted in pain for that poor girl. She had been born to a monstrosity of a father, a fact that she could not change and now had to live with.
That could have been Annabeth, his mind acknowledged. She could have been the one in Lacy's place, hurt and unconscious. The only bit that gave relief to him was knowing that Annabeth was still out there, hopefully safe and far away from these horrid excuses of human beings.
Now that Baron Rodrick didn't have Annabeth, Percy didn't need to hold back. He and his sailors would just have to be careful of Calen and Lacy.
"Plans not going your way?" Percy drawled.
"You fool!" The baron shouted. "This still isn't over. My men have you outnumbered!"
Now that was some truthful facts. The hired men and the baron's soldiers tightened their grips on their weapons, prepared to advance.
"That's true."
Percy's ears perked up at this feminine voice. Could it be? He hadn't heard this voice in over five years.
"Your men outnumber Percy's. But we women outnumber you."
One of the darkly clad mercenaries stepped forward with a sword, quick as a flash and disarmed the mercenary with the arm tattoos. Percy could recognize that blonde hair anywhere, his heart swelling with relief.
"Men, charge!"
Baron Rodrick's soldiers and hired men were thrown into confusion. Many of the hired men (or women?) turned on each other, but Percy's unexpected allies had the element of surprise to their advantage.
Percy swiped at one mercenary with Riptide and smashed the helmet of a soldier with the back swing. He had to get to Annabeth. Sure, she was skilled, but she was basically wearing no armor.
With another two enemies down, he found himself face to face with his wife. He pulled her out of the way just in time before an enemy could slash at her exposed midriff. "I thought I told you to stay out of trouble." His voice cracked, belying the raw anxiety and fear he had when he thought Annabeth had been taken.
"Trouble usually finds me," Annabeth breathed. "Now duck!"
Percy dropped to floor, milliseconds before a sword swept over where his head had been previously. The enemy sword met Annabeth's, and she parried the blade away. Percy rolled out of reach before swiping at the mercenary's kneecaps. The mercenary screamed before falling to the floor.
He was relieved to have her there, safe and sound. But another part of him was somber. This scene of all the deaths was something he never wanted her to see. The first time Percy had killed someone in battle, he had puked his stomach out. Nightmares of his first kill threatened his sleep for years until he managed to defeat those demons. He didn't want Annabeth to be plagued by those night terrors as well.
The two fought back to back, ravaging through the enemies. Within minutes, only a few soldiers and mercenaries were left standing. Perhaps survival instinct took over as the baron's men looked at the piles of their brethren lying on the ship's deck, either dead or injured. The ones left standing quickly surrendered in defeat. They were disarmed and bound with rope.
Percy pulled Annabeth to him for a tight hug. She smelled as wonderful as always, lemony and fresh tinged with the salty breeze of the ocean.
"I got your message." Annabeth held up her hand where her emerald engagement ring was. "Felt it tingle just as we boarded the ship."
"I'm glad it worked," Percy said softly. "Perhaps you were my shining knight in armor after all."
Gods, all he wanted to do was kiss her senseless. Just to confirm that she was really there, safe and uninjured in his arms. He pressed her face closer to his chest, hoping that she hadn't taken in all the sights of the bodies around them.
A red headed woman came into view over Annabeth's shoulder.
"Yes, yes. Good to see you, too, Percy. Congratulations on becoming an Earl and getting married and all that fanfare." Rachel said dryly before Percy could say a word of thanks. She leaned wearily on her sword, surveying the carnage. "Not that I'm not pleased to see you again, but has anyone seen where the baron went?"
*************************************
When the fighting had begun and it became clear to Baron Rodrick that he was going to lose, his first instinct was to run away. Yes, he could escape among the confusion. He had enough money to buy passage on one of these ships and leave the Kingdom for good once the storm passed.
But a hand wrapped around his ankle before he could escape, causing him to stumble on the deck, sticky with rain and blood.
"Lacy, let go of me!" Baron Rodrick kicked at the tiny but somehow firm hands gripping at his ankle. "Arrgh!"
One of his soldiers bumped into him. "Sire, you must leave! Abort the ship!"
"What are you talking about, I can't swim! There might be sharks in the water, you hear me? Any little blood and they'll come swimming from miles away!"
His soldier went down as a redhead woman tackled him.
How had he not noticed these women joining his hired men? Their hair had been covered by hoods or shrouds, using the exact cover of darkness his men had used to sneak up on the ship.
Damn, everything was going to waste and it was all that Earl's fault. He had to get out of here.
Baron Rodrick ran towards the side of the ship, trying to dodge all the fighting. He yelped as he tripped over a soldier. It was one of his personal guards, Sir Marcus with the scar over his nose.
Fucking useless, the baron thought. The lot of them, his soldiers they were. Useless like garbage against a bunch of smelly sea monkeys and weak women. Too late did he realize that he should have handed them a painting of what Annabeth Chase looked like, other than give them a description of blonde, prideful, and two legs to thrust in. Yet somehow, they had brought his daughter with a wig. Why was his daughter here, anyways?
But the baron had more important matters to think about, such as his life. Once he escaped, he would hire only the best of the best, and then grab the next opportunity to kill the Earl and the Chase woman.
The storm was hitting hard now. Waves hurled against the ship. Even in its heavily anchored state, the Iron Maiden was being tossed like a rag doll.
Only the sailors were used to such rolling of the ship. The mercenaries and the Ducaine soldiers were easily taken down as their balance deteriorated. Even the unknown female warriors were having trouble, although the sailor quickly brought his men down.
Baron Rodrick suddenly found himself thrown against the low guardrail of the ship. Then he was flying over, realizing he was about to fall from the ship and into the inky darkness of the ocean below. His arms flung out, trying to grab at anything stable. One hand connected with the guardrail. Success!
The baron grunted, trying to pull himself up. Years of too much decadent foods and not enough exercise now exacted their toll on his body all at once. He was far too weak to haul himself over the guardrail and back into the safety of the ship's deck.
"Help! Anyone, help!"
The baron spotted a familiar face peering over the guardrail. His daughter!
Yes, his daughter would help him. Once they escaped, she would be his key to marrying a wealthy suitor who would help him enact his revenge.
"Lacy, help your father over!" He ordered.
But Lacy made no movement to pull him up. She stared at him in contempt, her expression eerily just like his. For a brief moment, the baron realized just how alike he and his youngest daughter were despite having no other physical similarities.
"Lacy, come on. Pull me up. You were always my favorite daughter! So sweet, so pretty." The baron was close to pleading now. He could feel his grip loosening and the strong winds were not helping. "I will buy you anything you want, anything! You can have a full set of new dresses to debut in society. I'll have you married to a Count at the least!"
Money had always solved his problems. If he and his daughter were anything alike, this offer of money would be tempting indeed.
Precious seconds passed, and his daughter made no move.
Thunder clapped just as his fingers finally lost their grip on the slick guardrail. The baron's screams were cut short as he fell towards the ocean. If there was a splash, no one heard it among the roar of storm and rain and the cries of battle.
Except for Lacy.
She tossed a bloodied dagger she'd taken from a fallen mercenary and threw it into the ocean. If there truly were sharks in this part of the ocean, perhaps the blood would attract them.
She'd been planning on using the knife to stab her father's hand in order to get him to release his hand on the guardrail. But him falling on his own was much better. After all, she didn't need to move her own hand in his death. There was no need to add patricide to the terrible mess that was her life. Or so she convinced herself.
Lacy's face betrayed no emotion at all, except for a sneer, the only thing she inherited from her father's genes.
"Goodbye, Father. I hope you rot in hell."