Prisoner of War

Chapter 3

Annabeth

                The next morning I walked out of my tent feeling very refreshed. I had slept through the afternoon and missed dinner, so I was very hungry. The kitchen tent was in the middle of the camp so it was equal distance for all the soldiers. Unfortunately, the middle of the camp was also where the Fallen Prince was being held. Fallen Prince? Really Annabeth? Is that the best you could come up with? Why not just use his name? Because that suggests a sense of friendship, and we are not friends, I answered myself.

But if I wanted breakfast, I was going to have to walk past him. Oh well, better just do it and get it over with.

I wasn’t very far from the center, so it didn’t take long for me to get there. When I did though, what I saw made me want to retch. There was a crowd surrounding the pole and the men were cheering. That couldn’t be a good sign. I heard several cracks and muffled screams, and when the crowd moved I saw his bloody body hanging almost limp from his wrists. They were whipping him. They had turned him around so they could get at his back, or what was left of it. I couldn’t see any skin left, and I didn’t know how he could bare that much pain silently. Then I saw the muzzle they had forced on him.

“Stop!” I cried out with authority. Oh no, I didn’t know why I did that! I was panicking! All the men turned to argue, but when they saw me they dropped to their knees, bowing with their faces towards the ground. Now what? I asked myself.

“The war is over, go pack your supplies. We will be leaving tomorrow and this is no time for entertainment. Get back to work! I don’t want to see any laziness until everything is done, or you will be one hanging from that pole.” I yelled out while glaring. Thank you father for teaching me how to speak with authority! My grey eyes were very intimidating, so I was told, so that helped.

They all scrambled off to do my bidding, tripping over themselves to get away from me. When they were gone I sighed in relief. Walking cautiously over to Perseus, my breath hitched when I realized he was still conscious, barely.

Calling over a nurse from the infirmary I tried to gently remove the muzzle. I was more difficult then expected. There was lots of dried blood that made it stick and when I pulled it ripped some of the skin off his lips, leaving them swollen and bleeding. He gasped when it finally came off. It looked like they had given him a real beating, even before they started the whipping. Both of his eyes were swollen shut, his nose was practically gushing blood, some of his teeth looked a bit loose and he had major bruising all over his chest, I wouldn’t be surprised if his ribs were cracked.

The nurse arrived and I ordered her to patch him up the best she could with him still hanging from the pole. She gave me a confused look and I explained that Luke wanted him in at least semi-good conditions. She nodded and got to work cleaning and stitching his back.

I walked away back to my tent, I wasn’t hungry any more. But I looked back at him and saw that he was looking at me. My heart started beating hard, and I had some trouble breathing. The way he looked at me was something I will never forget in all my days. His bright green eyes had darkened to the color of the sea before a storm. They were broken and dangerous, like shattered glass, and they were staring at me with more hate then I thought was possible for a human to feel.