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“Annabeth? Annabeth.”
The voice made her pull her eyes open and turn on her cot. The pain ached through her shoulder and down her spine, but when she saw her father she smiled.
“Hello, Father.”
“Hello, daughter. How are you?”
“Better...and you?” she asked trying to sound strong.
“Very well; very well indeed. They have their assault plans ready for Anondorf Castle. I just wish I was able to lead them. Nothing would give me as much pleasure as that.”
“Won’t it be dangerous, Father?”
“Anything worth fighting for has a tendency to be dangerous, my daughter. But you know that.”
For a long time there was silence, neither knowing what to say. It had been so long.
“How are you feeling?”
“Better. I missed you.”
“I missed you too. Every day I prayed for your safety.”
“And every day I prayed for yours.”
There was another long silence, and slowly Annabeth raised her eyes to meet his, trying to keep back the tears.
“I am sorry for getting you into this mess. If I hadn’t told you, nothing like this would have happened.”
“Annabeth. I am glad you told me. I trusted him, and betrayed us. I knew what it would cost. I never thought that you would fight for me; I thought you would flee and hide like every other daughter I have ever known. I never dreamed that you would champion a cause.”
“Did you mind that, Father?”
“Not one bit.”
“What are we going to do now?”
“Now?”
“Now that you no longer work for Lord Raburn, what are we going to do?”
“Don’t know; haven’t really thought that far.” He laughed. “I never thought I would make it out of Raburn’s dungeon alive.”
Annabeth tightened her hand around her father’s. “I was so scared of losing you.”
He smiled. “You needn’t fear losing me ever, Annabeth. I will love you no matter where you are.” He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “I love you, my Annabeth.”
“I love you, Father.”
The next moment Annabeth felt her father shudder in pain. His body trembled, and he turned pale.
“Father? Father, what is it?” she asked, sitting up, ignoring the vivid pain that shot through her body .
Then she saw him, and her heart stopped. The words fell from her lips in horror and unbelief.
“Lord Raburn, what are you doing here?”
The man only smiled. “Your rescuers blazed a trail here, and now you will all pay.” He raised a dagger and plunged it towards her. Annabeth, was frozen in shock and horror. The only thing that she could use was her voice. Opening her mouth, she screamed. It seemed to break the terror inside of her loose, as the blade descended towards her heart, she tumbled from her cot.
The knife ripped into the fabric and struck into the ground.
Annabeth tried to scramble to her feet to find something to defend herself with, but he was standing on her dress, making escape impossible. She searched for something—anything within reach. Then Annabeth’s eyes fell on the dagger thrust into her father’s back.
The world stopped. Nothing mattered. It was all a blur frozen in time that would never stop. There were no sounds, nothing—nothing but the screaming silence.
The hands of King Harold were turning over her father. His still-conscious eyes broke her frozen world. His lips were mouthing her name. In a moment, she had pillowed his head on her lap and was soothing his pained brow with her hand.
“Annabeth,” his voice strained with the word, and his breathing came with perilous labor.
“I am here, Father. I am here!”
His pain-blurred eyes cleared and he looked into her face, smiling as he did so.
“You have made me so proud, Annabeth. I am honored to call you my daughter.”
She slipped her hand into his and held it tightly; it slowly grew colder.
Unexpectedly, Annabeth found herself surrounded.
Her father’s eyes strayed to those around them.
“Please take care of my daughter,” he whispered.
“I will.”
“She shall want for nothing.”
Annabeth looked up and saw both kings kneeling by her father’s side. She looked back at her father. His eyes were closing. Suddenly they opened and looked up at her.
“Don’t leave me, Father. Please don’t,” she begged. Tears were running down her face. She pressed his cold hand against her cheek.
“I can’t help it, my strong one, my lovely, my daughter—I am going.” He struggled for breath, and pressed his hand against her cheek. “I love you, Annabeth.” A fleeting smile passed his lips, and his hand dropped to his side.
“No...” Annabeth whispered, her voice barely passing her throat, swollen with tears. “Oh, Father, no. Don’t leave me.” She laid her head against his strong chest and let grief swallow her.
How many hands Annabeth had pushed away, she didn’t know. Nor did she care. She wanted to stay with her father. Her heart had been shattered into tiny pieces, and each throbbed in her chest, making it almost impossible for her to breathe—to want to breathe.
Then there was the quiet touch that came not to take her away from her father, but to share her grief. His hand ran gently, almost imperceptibly, across her burning shoulders.
“Beth,” Ransom whispered, gently piercing the silence with his quiet voice. “It’s all over. Raburn is dead; his army has surrendered. Your war is won, Annabeth.”
Slowly, she raised her eyes to meet his.
“But I lost the most important thing. I couldn’t protect him. I—I— Ransom!” She buried her head against his shoulder, sobs shaking her.
In a moment, Ransom had gathered her up in his arms and held her close to his heart.
“Annabeth, he died protecting you, his daughter, the person he loved most on this earth. You can’t protect everyone, Annabeth. Sometimes you can’t even protect yourself. It’s what makes you human; it’s what makes people fall in love with you. Annabeth, no one is perfect.” He lifted her face to look into his. “We can’t be perfect, Annabeth.”
“But if I had just...”
He laid his finger on her lips. “No. You are tired and worn out—you need your rest.”
“I’ve rested too long. If I hadn’t been, maybe it wouldn’t have happened. Maybe...”
Ransom pressed his finger against her mouth again. With a resigned sigh, Annabeth laid her head against his shoulder, her body heaving with grief.
In a minute, Ransom was holding a pewter goblet to her mouth and telling her to drink it.
“I don’t want anything.”
“Just take a little. You need to restore your strength.”
With great reluctance, Annabeth sipped the bitter liquid, then buried her face in Ransom’s leather jerkin, clinging to him with desperation. The world grew black at the edges, and slowly crept towards her. Weariness stalked her body. She tried to fight it off, but found it impossible. Ransom’s arms were strong. They would protect her; she trusted him.