"Nor do I fear death," Reyna said, the words rolling off her tongue smoothly and echoing around Jason's mind for quite some time.
They had been on their daily patrol around the borders of Camp Jupiter when the matter of the oncoming war had claimed its own importance in their minds. Jason had been the first one to talk, breaking the clumsy silence that had settled between them.
"Reyna?" he had asked. He tried to look uninterested, keeping his eyes fixed on his golden weapon and only occasionally sneaking tentative glances at Reyna.
"Yes?" her eyes had been scanning the surrounding camp intently, as if an entire army would just materialize out of the nearest bush had she not been looking at it warily. When silence greeted her words, and only then, did she look at Jason. He looked distraught. "Yes?" she repeated again, louder this time, trying to gain his attention back.
"What do you think about war?" Jason was fully aware that this was a stupid question to ask a daughter of Bellona, or anyone in general. But he thought he would burst if he kept it to himself any longer.
"Why?" she inquired, cautiously. When she received a small shrug of the shoulders in response, she pressed her lips into a thin line. "I do not like it," Reyna said, "nor do I take pleasure in it. But I believe that it's inevitable," she added earnestly.
Quiet settled over them while Jason thought of her words. Then, "Don't you fear it?" He kicked a stray stone that was on the way into a bush, making Reyna jump. They were supposed to be in patrol duty, after all. Jason avoided Reyna's murderous glare, trying to hide the small smile that stretched his lips.
They had rounded the corner and passed next to the boarded up coffee shop, which in Jason's opinion was a dark reminder of better days. He could still remember the time he tried to make Reyna change from hot chocolate to coffee and ended up with a broken hand after sword-fighting the energy-driven praetor.
"No. Why should I?"
"People die. You don't fear war, but-"
Now she stated, "Nor do I fear death."
Jason looked at her, at her straight features outlined against the light of the lampposts, at her jet-black hair, at the way she held herself, so proud and regal and confident.
And in that moment, Jason believed her.
But he did not notice the way that her shoulders sagged ever so slightly when his scrutinizing glare turned away, nor did he notice the way her teeth dug into her lips harshly, the way she twirled her sister's ring around her fidgeting fingers.
The corners of Reyna's lips tugged downwards in displeasure at the lie. But truth be told, when had Reyna ever voiced her fears?
He stares down at her broken figure in horror and shock, stares at the bloodstained armor she once used so proudly and kept so clean, at the trio of arrows sticking awkwardly out of her stomach, and he can swear he feels the air being forced out of his lungs, and he feels numb.
Clumsily and shakily, her nimble hands pull the offending weapons out of herself, as if only by doing so she could get healed. As if the damage could be undone. She leans heavily against a tree and slides downward slowly, her eyes wide.
Jason runs towards her. He stumbles, he falls. He gets up again.
But she doesn't.
She can't.
Reyna lays back on her elbows and draws in a shaky breath, her small chest rising and falling unevenly, with the fierce insistence possessed only by those who resist the never ending pull of Death.
Sound seems muffled. Colors churn into undistinguishable blurs. His sword clatters to the ground, his knees give away under him: Jason is kneeling.
He doesn't seem to notice the battle cries that envelope them and press against his sanity, he doesn't seem to notice the way Piper is looking at them, the way her vision is blurred by tears when she sees the grossly contrasting red against pale skin, the same red that seems to be the signal fire of the fallen. But Reyna does.
Jason's hands slides gently under Reyna's head, cradling it against his chest as sadness seems to rip him apart and scatter the pieces into the wind.
He whispers her name once, and all eye contact between Piper and Reyna is lost.
Instead, her dark eyes find their way to his light ones, but she doesn't say a thing. What is there to say, anyway?
He murmurs an apology. She wonders what is there to be sorry for, when he seemed so happy. She tells him so. He apologizes again.
Slowly, her fingers wrap around his. His other hand is holding her wrist, feeling her pulse fading as if it was water escaping through his fingertips.
"Aren't you afraid?" he asks softly, knowing just as well as she does that she doesn't have much time left. He is vaguely aware that the words seem familiar in his lips, said by someone from a far-away dream, from a far-away time.
She coughs. Her lips stain a red that seems too bright.
"Of war? I am not."
"Of death." His tone quivers. He wants to look away, but can't.
"'Nor do I fear death'," she quotes, her tone calm and firm. Her chin is raised high, even after all this time, as if her imaginary crown might slip and the curtain might fall, signaling the end of the last act of her life. After a moment of silence, "go."
"What?"
Her tone wanders into a feeble whisper when she says, "Fight. Win."
He wants to protest, but as soon as he opens his mouth Reyna clarifies, "that's an order," for old time's sake. The corners of Reyna's lips tug upwards in a half-smile as she adds, not without a hint of irony, "Go away, I'm alright."
Jason's eyes sting.
Reyna's eyes flutter closed.
Jason stands shakily.
Reyna lays limp.
Jason pronounces a battle cry, brandishes his golden sword, and fights for the both of them. And in the end, he triumphs, he wins, he lives.
Reyna grits her teeth and at least tries to get comfortable, but small stones and pebbles dig in her back as unconsciousness begins to take over, and everything becomes a very colorful, very noisy blur. She resigns then, and thinks about life. Her life.
Finally, she notices her surroundings, and the very last words to leave her lips are, "O sancta simplicitas!" O holy simplicity!
And then, nothing.