Carte Blanche || having free rein to choose whatever course of action you want.
Carte Blanche
"And all the roads we have to walk are winding
And all the lights that lead us there are blinding
There are many things that I
Would like to say to you but I don't know how"
-Wonderwall
(Oasis)
"There is a senate meeting later. The senators want to discuss something immediately." Jason says to her, his tone guarded and eyes looking carefully at his fellow praetor who is signing several papers on the desk. She pauses and stops writing, and for a moment, he thinks that she might go get her dagger and slice it on his throat.
She looks up to him and gives him the same cold and calculating stare that reminds him of onyx, of the dead black shade of the night. Her face is set in a stone which makes him run his hand through his hair in frustration. Normally, he is good at reading people, he can adjust to how they act but being around the daughter of Bellona makes him feel like he is going through a wall of ice instead.
"Is that all?" she inquires him, voice like the sound of a funeral's hymn, emotionless and, he thinks, detached. Her eyes turn into an even darker shade, like the pitch black of the dark that encases him in his sleep –
(He couldn't breathe.)
He nods, and tries to open his mouth to say something, to say anything to break the awkward silence escaping from it but he does the first thing that his mind tells him to do, and that is to walk away.
She continues to write, and he takes it as a sign that she does not mind.
(There is nothing left for him to say.)
They do not speak of this anymore to anyone else for they are not the type who would let the whole world know how they feel, what they think, and wear their hearts on their sleeve, and –
They are warriors. Emotions are hidden in their own dreamscape, in some place where no one in this world can find. It is a rule that must be kept in utter confidentiality.
This is how things are. This is how it would always be.
(Not even the Fates can change that.)
"What do you think about it, praetors?"
Jason frowns and tries to think about the suggested idea of the senators, remembering the other members of the legion who shed their blood (and tears) for the sake of their victory. Reyna, who is beside him, tenses the idea. Her back straightens up just the slightest bit and her fist curls to her side reminding him of a tiger leaping over at its prey.
She opens her mouth but there is something in Jason's gut that is telling him to speak, to say words instead of her. He guesses that it is because a big part of him knows that she is not the one who would openly agree to something like that.
"I think that that is a good idea. What could be a better way of commemorating our comrades than to set aside a date just for them?" he says, feeling the words roll of his mouth like a song from a lyre, cutting off the words from Reyna.
She looks at him, anger evident on her face but she quickly hides it, expression alluring and cold like the sign of a bad weather. He ignores her, and walks down the podium, ignoring the glares from Octavian and the killer stare from Reyna.
("I hate talking in front of people," she tells him a month later when they are sitting quietly under the blanket of stars in the Fields of Mars, "it makes me feel like every move would cause the end of me. I hate every moment of it.")
"From now on, the 18th of September shall be a day to think of our fallen comrades during the Titan War. A festival will be held in honor of them. Please inform the legionnaires immediately. Is that alright, praetor Reyna?" he looks back at Reyna, the tone of his voice mocking her, daring her to oppose him like she did during the Titan war.
Her face is unreadable and her mouth is set in a line. He narrows his eyes a tiny bit when he is not able to read through her, only finding a hollow space inside.
"I agree." Her voice resonates in the hall and for a moment, Jason notes, it sounds broken.
Cheers erupt from the crowd, and it vaguely reminds him of the sound of the chimes twinkling like a music, a melody of nature wherein everything is at work, orchestrating it in a dance –
It is Reyna's gaze that he does not meet.
"Why did you immediately say that without consulting me?" she seethes at him when everyone left the meeting, and it is only the two of them standing inside.
The anger underneath the pool of obsidian, the frustration etched on her face carefully, like a sculpture, the venom laced on her voice that reminds him of the sting of a snake's bi –
No, Jason reasons out, she is still human. She breathes just like all of us do.
(Oh, how right he is.)
Ordinarily, he would back down. He would not speak his thoughts, and just let her win but at this time, it feels as if there is voice begging him to speak up, and for a moment, it feels so real, the tone like the wind rushing down in his spine, like the sound of the water running down the strea –
"Our comrades shed their blood for Rome. They sacrificed their lives, their hopes, their dreams. I don't understand what's wrong with remembering them, even if it's just for a day." He snaps back, and he is startled with how his voice sounds – like the coldness of the ice on the lake, like the thunder booming overhead.
She narrows her eyes, an obvious sign that she is not used to being questioned, to being talked back to. He grits his teeth, biting back another retort before she does the one thing that he does not think she would ever do – because he thinks, she is as unbreakable as the cement and as sturdy as the foundation of the temples, as strong as the –
She bites her lip, and walks away.
(No matter how much he would regret ever feeling happy when he feels victory rushing down his body when he beat the queen at her own game, he can't deny that it made him feel so good.)
(In a few weeks, it would be him stopping others from feeling the satisfaction of defeating Reyna (never the queen anymore, never the ice-cold princess) because he realizes that she is every bit as human as he is. She breaks down and cries, cries like the fall of the river from the mountain-side, breaks like the glacie – )
She just rarely shows it.
A few days pass by and they do not speak, do not converse with each other like friends do because they are never acquaintances in the first place. They are just mere co-workers so the silence is normal, is not unusual.
("Before you can charm her with her smile, pretty boy, I bet she would be twirling your dead body with her gladius." His drunk friend tells him, just a few weeks before, just a few moments before he is crowned king.
Oh, the irony.)
An entire week passes and without him noticing it, it is the 18th of September, and the night is just at the right temperature, and the stars are blinking much brighter than before, and each wind that passes by reminds him of the caress of the water flowing from the ocean – like a dance, like a spell that would capture your attention, like a form of hypnosis.
He holds the lantern in his hand, unsure of why he is standing on this area for a few minutes already, not moving at all.
He is walking around the area for quite some time when an idea suddenly sparked in his mind, and that is why he now finds himself standing near the Little Tiber with the paper lantern glowing in his hand, like the sun, the spell of light that defeats the dark in ways that makes him doubt if it is even real, even true.
When he looks at his left, the sight would leave him in shock.
"W-what are you doing here?" he asks, the words stumbling out of his mouth clumsily, like the rain, splattering around carelessly.
She raises her eyebrow at him, hand gripping the lantern of her own before replying. "I am waiting for the time to release these... lanterns."
His eyes widen, and he does not know if it is because he is shock, scared or just plain amused. "B-but I thought you did not like the idea!" he accused, the words hanging in the air.
She does not reply and looks up to gaze at the stars. It is only then that he notices that she lets her hair down, and she actually looks a bit more relax - less warlike - than she usually is, and there is a hue of vulnerability on the darkest shade of brown and onyx.
"You can sit down if you want." she tells him, eyes still focused on the Milky Way above, on the stars that dance endlessly, each second doing an unsaid routine.
He nods mutely. The shock that he felt a little while ago disabling his mind to continue thinking, and it is like his mind is being clogged, his train of thoughts being stopped. He settles down next to her, noting how the moonlight highlights her hair, and her cheekbones like a painting, like an art.
(It is at that moment that Jason Grace, son of the almighty Jupiter, forgets how to breathe.)
"I-" she says, unsure of what to say next, "I have a sister." she finishes quietly like the sound of the rain hitting the pavement (fragile, cold, broken.)
He opens his mouth to say something but she cuts him off, her voice sounding so detached, and he swears that there is a hint of loneliness in it, of pain, of suffering.
"I do not know where she is now with the Amazons," she tells him, her voice sounding even broken than before like the torn strings of a lyre, "or, if she's even..."
Her voice drifts off and he realizes, that this is why she does not want this event. It would hurt too much to let go of things when you don't even know if they are real - like a dream, like a fantasy of a child.
or if she's even alive...
He cannot say anything. He does not know what to say, and the thought of not being able to do anything makes him want to bang his head on the wall.
(For being the cold and emotionless bastard that he is.)
"It's okay," he tells her, the words drifting off in the wind like a dance, "I have a sister too." He furrows his eyebrows. He has never told anyone about this but a voice inside him tells him that telling Reyna would be okay.
"I don't know her, or if she's real but I wish that she's alive." he says quietly, bile rising on his throat as he chokes out the words.
I miss her, he murmurs, to the wind that listens, to the stars that flutter, to the moon that shines so, so bright, to Reyna who he knows can understand him.
(Maybe, they are not as different as they think they are.)
It feels good to talk to her like this because he is awaken by the reality that Reyna... she is just as human as anybody else, as everybody else.
Not the queen.
Never the statue.
Just her.)
The sky dims a little bit, the moon's glow ceases and the dance of the stars pauses for a while as every citizen, every member of the legion and New Rome raises their lanterns above, temporarily replacing the sparkle, the light of the stars, making a dance, an act of their own.
It is a great contrast, Jason thinks as he watches them fly above the sky. The winds die down a little, and he can actually feel even the gods lamenting for the sake of their children.
It's going to be okay. he tells Reyna as he watches their own lanterns glide through the air - like the notes of a forgotten music.
Thank you. she murmurs to him quietly, eyes focused on the light above, too. The wind carries her voice, filling the air with melody, with a song that is to be mended.
Reluctantly, Jason takes her hand in his. He keeps his eyes on the lanterns but he swears that the grip tightens just a little bit, and it is not because of him. He tries to ignore the beat of his heart or the sudden warmth that spreads through his cheeks -
He is not thinking when he did that, he reasons with himself when the moment is over. He is just acting out of pity, out of understanding and comfort for her but at that time -
At that time, if he is not too busy cursing himself for such stupidity, he'd see a smile gracing on her lips.
(It is not much but it is a start.)
"Because maybe, you're gonna be the one that saves me
And after all, you're my wonderwall
I don't believe that anybody
Feels the way I do, about you now."
-Wonderwall
(Oasis)