Author's Note: This isn't exactly a song-fic; just kind of a one-shot that was inspired by a song, if that makes any sense. I didn't try to follow the words or anything in my writing. This is just what I imagined when I heard the song (the acoustic version, not the original). And yes, it's Jeyna. Get over it. Please review. Thanks!
Disclaimer: I don't own any of it.
State of Grace
You come around and the armor falls,
Pierce the room like a cannon ball,
Now all we know is don't let go,
We are in love just you and me,
And I never saw you coming,
And I'll never be the same,
This is a state of grace,
This is the worthwhile fight,
Love is a ruthless game,
Unless you play it good and right,
These are the hands of faith,
You're my Achilles heel,
This is the golden age of something good and right and real…
-Taylor Swift, "State of Grace" (Acoustic)
They sat hand in hand, up in their special place on the hill overlooking New Rome. There, everything was clear and perfect and quiet, even tonight. Tonight, when the city was bright and joyful, alive with victory; citizens and soldiers, fauns and Lares, all crowding the streets, dancing, celebrating the fact that they were alive, that Rome had triumphed yet again, as they always would. The Titans had been defeated, and everything was again right in the world.
Fireworks of a million different colors burst across the glittering night sky, illuminating and dusting their faces with brilliant, sparkling light as the sparks fizzled and rained down on the city, leaving lingering trails of what could have passed for fairy dust.
They didn't speak, simply sat together, watching the celebration contently. They hadn't expected to live into tonight; the chances had been that one or both of them would be killed in the war. The siege of the palace had been a last stand on the part of the Roman demigods—nobody had really expected to come out of it alive, although nobody dared say it. They were Roman; they didn't question orders, and they didn't run away from death.
Jason was proud of that, proud of his legion, proud of being Roman. They both were. That was what bound them together.
The lights reflected in Jason's electric blue eyes as he stared into the night sky. The moon shone down on them, bathing them in pale moonlight. This was the most at peace either of them had felt in a long, long time.
He clutched her hand tightly, comforted by her warmth next to him, even while it was a warm mid-August night. She didn't know what that meant, but right now, she didn't particularly care. She just knew that she was happy.
He glanced over at her, wondering what she was thinking. She met his eyes, wondering the same about him.
"We won, Rey."
Those simple words carried so much emotion, so much unsaid; the grief of the past, the hope for the future, the joy of the present, of living in the moment—so many promises in those few little words.
Reyna smiled, rubbing her thumb across the back of his hand subconsciously.
"We won, Grace," she answered softly.
And that one night, they were truly infinite.
That one night, a golden age began for them, one that would end all too quickly.
That one night, everything was perfect.
And as they sat together, shoulder to shoulder, hands intertwined, they knew that now, for once, everything was good, and right, and real in their world.
This was a state of grace.