“Prove it.”
Prince Alf swung his right fist towards Eliot, who ducked, landing a direct blow into the prince’s stomach. For a moment Alfred doubled over in pain, but a second later the prince’s angry fists were firing at Eliot again. Faking another right hook, he caught Eliot firmly in the jaw with his left. Eliot saved himself from a complete fall and was up again in a moment. With a swing of his fists, he caught Prince Alfred on the side of his face.
After the first few moments of shock wore off, Annabeth began to protest. “Stop it. Alfred! Eliot. Stop! Stop it, please.”
At that moment, Ransom entered.
“What on earth is going on here?”
Neither of the men answered, and Annabeth was too distressed to respond.
Grabbing the back of Eliot’s jerkin, Ransom pulled then pushed him out of the tent. As Prince Alfred went after him, Ransom caught him and walked towards the back of the tent.
“Stop it!” protested Prince Alfred, trying to shake off Ransom’s strong, coolheaded arms.
“No, you stop it.”
A moment later, Eliot came rushing back in.
Annabeth grabbed onto Eliot’s arm. At her touch he stopped, breathing heavily.
“I’ll tear you to pieces,” muttered Alf through clenched teeth; he was still boiling with anger. “How dare you accuse my father of such an action!”
Eliot’s anger had calmed.
“Because it’s true.”
“Eliot. Stop this,” commanded Ransom; his voice was calm, but anger hid in his firm tone.
“I am not the one who started it.”
Ransom sent him an angry look, then turned to Prince Alfred.
“What were you thinking? You should know better, especially with Annabeth in her weak condition. She has been through enough without the two of you coming in here and fighting like street urchins who don’t know any better.”
“You are right. I shall call for a truce. No more angry words between us; at least not in Annabeth’s presence. We shall settle it like true gentlemen and get to the bottom of this matter.”
“Agreed,” answered Eliot.
“Come; let’s go see my father,” said Alf, brushing by Eliot. At the tent door Alf turned back and looked at Annabeth. “I am sorry, Annabeth.”
“It’s all right, Alf.”
In a moment, Eliot and Prince Alfred were gone.
“Are you all right, Beth?”
“I am fine,” her voice was sharp.
“What is the matter?” Ransom asked, turning Annabeth to face him.
“I can take care of myself, Ransom. Thank you for your help. You may go if you wish,” she said, pushing his hands away.
Ransom waited a moment, wanting to look into Annabeth’s eyes, but they refused to meet his.
“Well, I better make sure those two don’t kill each other. I’ll see you later, Annabeth.”
“Yes, that would be a good idea.”
Slowly, Ransom walked past her and to the tent entrance. Annabeth spun around.
“Ransom.”
He paused and turned back slightly.
“Yes?”
“Of all the people I could be angry with, it shouldn’t be you. I am sorry. I shouldn’t have spoken so harshly. I was wrong. Forgive me, please?”
“Of course I forgive you, Annabeth,” he said, and started to leave.
“Ransom.”
“Yes?”
Annabeth bit her lip before she dared let the question pass her lips. “Do you really think I am weak?”
In two steps he was by her side. Taking her face in his hands, he lifted it to meet his own. “No, I don’t think you are weak. You are one of the strongest people I have ever known. Is that what hurt you—why you spoke sharply to me?”
“Yes. I am sorry it was so petty. But I need to be strong right now. There is so much to decide, and my head gets so dizzy. I—I don’t know what to do, Ransom, and when you said that, my silly pride rose and snapped at you. I am so sorry...”
Ransom laid his finger over her mouth. “Shh. It’s all right.”
Annabeth met his eyes. Something in her pulled to lean against him, to let herself cry on his shoulder. But she bit her lip and took a deep breath instead.
“So they told you all of their grand plans for you?” Ransom asked.
“Yes, and I haven’t a clue what I should do. They told me to do what I want, but I really don’t know what I want. I have been working all of this time to get my father free and I was going to do whatever he wanted—and he didn’t even have plans. He didn’t think he’d get out of Raburn’s prison.” Annabeth took a deep breath and let it out. Her head was spinning again, and she wrung her hands, trying to get her nerves to stop flying about in her chest like restless butterflies.
Ransom caught Annabeth’s anxious hands. Her palms were sweaty. “What do you want?”
“That is the thing; I don’t know.”
“No. I am asking what do you want?”
Annabeth looked up at him, confused.
Ransom stepped closer, looking into her eyes.
“Forget everything they have offered you, everything that anyone has ever asked you. Forget about trying to please the King Harold or King Fredric or Alf or anyone else. What do you want to see happen in your life?”
“I—” she shook her head, her brow wrinkling with confusion.
“Close your eyes.”
With a resigned sigh, Annabeth obeyed.
Ransom whispered in her ear. “Now tell me what you wish for most of all.”
She shook her head.
“Do you want to go on being the mysterious Annabeth, carrying a sword all around the country, or would you like to become a great lady?”
“No.” Annabeth shook her head and opened her eyes. “I just want to be me. I don’t want riches; I don’t want to have to fight. I will fight for what I love, but I don’t want to have to fight all of my life. I don’t much care what I do or where I go; I just want to love and be loved. I have dreamed of living in a cottage by a laughing stream, and having children, and...” Annabeth stopped short and shook her head. “I am such a silly dreamer. I am sorry.” She started to turn away, her heart beating frantically in her chest. She had said much more than she had planned on saying to anyone, ever.
Ransom caught her hands.
“Can I share one of my dreams with you?”
Annabeth looked up at Ransom, puzzled. “What?”
“You see, I have a dream. It is about sharing a cottage by a stream with the woman I love. And I love her not because she is amazing with a sword, or because she is strong, or because she is a hero and the beginning of a legend. I love her because she has a tender heart, a gentle hand, an inward beauty that steals my heart. I want to protect, love, cherish, and always be with her.” Ransom stopped and swallowed the lump in his throat.
Annabeth was looking at him as one transfixed.
“That is my dream, Annabeth, and I would be honored if you would share it with me.”
“Are you in earnest?”
“I would not have spoken if it wasn’t with an earnest heart—one that is all yours, if you want it.”
“That is what I want most of all.”
“Will you marry me, Annabeth?” he asked, stepping close and slipping his arms around her.
“Yes, Ransom. With all my heart, yes.”
The End
About the Author
Jessica Greyson was captured by the literary world and the creation of words at a very young age. At twelve she felt a call to be a His ready writer and has been scribbling ever since. Annabeth’s War is her debut novella.
About the Artist
Louie Roybal attended Pensacola Christian College. He majored in Commercial Art and Graphic Design. He has a love for both and desires to produce fine art at a casual rate while working in the graphic design industry.
Louie currently works full time as a graphic designer, and free-lances to selected clients on the side.
You can see more of his work at www.louieroybal.com.
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Annabeth's War Page 16