The Ghost of a Guardian

Chapter Three: The Angel Behind the Mask.

Annabeth woke up to the sound of a music box. She softly moved her foot a bit to the left. It hit something with a soft thud. She was in a bed, her foot hit the ground with a soft thud. She jumped slightly when she saw someone sitting on a bench next to the bed. His back was leaning against a wall, and his head was tilted down into his chest. He still wore his mask, and then she realized who her rescuer truly was.

Sure she had heard stories about him, but that's just it, they were stories. She would only believe it when she would see for herself. Which she probably would very soon. She quickly got out of bed. She ran to the boat, however, a hand grabbed her shoulder and turned her around.

"I take you in, promise to heal your wounds and this is how you thank me?" He must have heard her get up and run. She shook her head desperately.

"No, Monsieur." She mumbled, struggling to find the right words. He struck her with the back of his hand, causing her to fall to the ground. She held her cheek as tears slowly rolled down her cheeks.

"Speak clearly when you speak to me!" He snapped.

"I do not wish to leave. I have no reason to." She said clearly, holding back a sob. She looked up at him. He saw the tears in her eyes and his heart sank, he never meant to make her cry, he knelt to her level.

"My apologies." His voice softened. "I promise to never hurt you again, you have my word." He kneeled down in front of her, she hugged him. Thus making him tense, he was not used to anyone showing him any form of affection, yet he hugged back.

"If I may ask, how did you end up in my tunnels?" He asked soothingly. She sniffled, making him pull away from the hug.

"My fiancé was drunk." She began, summoning all the strength she could manage. "He pulled me away from the crowd and beat me, eventually throwing me down a set of stairs." The memories from the night before started to become too much. "He must've thought I was dead." Tears began to roll down her cheeks. She hugged herself tightly. He growled something under his breath. "Pardon?"

"It's nothing." He shook his head in frustration. "It's just I hate it when men abuse their lovers, when they've done nothing to deserve it." He said through gritted teeth. She looked at him thoughtfully.

"I heard plenty of stories about you, and at the moment I don't believe any of them are true." She sat fully on the ground, her dress splayed around her perfectly.

He looked at her too, what sick joke was she playing? He thought to himself. He must have zoned out cause when he opened his eyes she was in front of him, inches from his face. She gently stroked his mask. He grabbed her wrist tightly. He was just starting to appreciate her company, he didn't want to scare her away.

But in her eyes, her deep sapphire eyes, looked into his as well as his soul somehow, and persuaded him to let her take his mask off. He winced and waited for her to runaway screaming, never to return and add to his long life of solitude. She stayed there her face was blank only with a small smile on the corner of her lip.

"You're not afraid?" He asked, practically in shock. She smiled and shook her head.

"I've seen worse." she smiled kindly. "I'm probably not the prettiest thing in the world to see at the moment." She laughed humorlessly.

All his life he wanted someone to see him for who he really was. Not just some monster.

"You don't think I'm a monster?" He was so used to people ignoring him or teasing him.

"You saved my life. In my eyes you're no monster, Monsieur." She said stroking the distorted part of his face with her thumb, gently.

He placed his hand over hers and smiled. Finally he had someone with him, someone who appreciated him for who he was, an angel trapped in a monsters body.