"Jason, we've got to take Krios down soon, otherwise the charge will have been for nothing! He'll be at full strength soon, and then we're lost. The Legion will be wiped out." Reyna's voice was ragged, breathless, and she was spattered with ash and mud and ichor. A streak of scarlet snaked down her cheek from a cut on her temple, and her dark hair was slick with congealed blood down one side. He glanced back at the Legionnaires, hopelessly outnumbered by the Titanic forces as they battled to take the mountain. Two hundred teenagers against a horde of monsters that seemed to have crawled straight out of the nightmares of the Ancient Scholars, too evil to be real. Jason had been trained for this his whole life, selected as their leader, worthy of the Roman Legacy, but he was terrified. If they died today, it would be his fault. Mea culpa, he thought, whatever happens today, mea culpa.
The top of Mount Othrys lay just ahead, and already black mist swirled through the almost-complete stronghold, forming into rich furnishings, including tapestries depicting the preferred outcome of the battle (straining his eyes, he saw one unfurled above the door that showed the failed storming of Mount Othrys; Jason recognised some of the corpses sprawled across the fictional ground: him, Reyna, many of his friends and family, tiny and insignificant against the war-torn landscape). He knew that if the stronghold was completed and the black throne founded, they were lost. It wasn't going to happen. Somewhere to their left, the Titan Atlas - still trapped under the weight of the sky - howled with wild joy, "The Titanomachy ends and a new era begins! Come, my brethren, let Roman blood anoint the foundations of the new world!" No, Jason thought, not on my watch.
"Reyna, we can still do this." Somewhere behind those obsidian-black walls, Krios awaited them. On their side: two exhausted demigods (the rest were pinned down on the mountainside somewhere) and a cryptic scrap of prophesy that made no sense at all. On the other side: one all-powerful Titan, ready to take the world. Well, two if you counted Atlas, but he wasn't going anywhere in a hurry. Not to mention an army of monsters that outnumbered the whole Twelfth Legion Fulminata five-to-one. Reyna nodded with determination, and he figured that she'd had the same thought as him: better to die trying to take down an undefeatable enemy than live under the heel of a new reign of terror and watch the collapse of civilisation.
"I'll distract him – no, don't argue – and you've got to take the advantage and kill him. You're the son of Jupiter, optimus et maximus, the greatest of our kind. You will prevail." Reyna was a far more skilled swordsman than he was, thanks to her mother's blessing – she'd already saved his useless podex numerous times today – but anxiety twisted in his stomach. It was something in her eyes, he decided. Something ancient and noble and self-sacrificing.
"Reyna-"
"I think I've worked out that prophesy line. We can take him down together." She bit her lip, "and I'm proud to fight with you today." Before he could respond, she darted through the archway and vanished into the heart of the enemy base.
He was so distracted, he almost lost his head. Literally. A lamia – snake-legged monster, not goddess – had broken free of the skirmish below (meaning that the fifth and third cohorts on the ridge were starting to be overwhelmed – the Praetors had to move fast) and swung a katana at him. He just managed to parry the blow and run her through, which was good. On reflection, he was rather attached to his head.
Jason Grace ran as if all the evils of Tartarus were chasing him – as they kind of were – and the first thing he noticed was how cold Othrys was. Entering the gates, the heat of battle seemed like a dim and distant memory. He looked up and the beauty of the evil place – he hated to think it, but it was true – took his breath away. Constellations glittered on the ceiling, but more perfect; as they would be if there was no pollution, he realised. As they would be if there was no humanity, no civilisation, no people, no Rome. It's a trap, he thought, it's them trying to draw you in, like those poor traitors who joined the Titans' cause. Don't fall for it. He forced himself to look ahead again and raced towards the throne room.
Reyna looked so small compared to Krios that Jason almost overlooked her. She looked tiny, but defiant, and a ridiculous mental image of the borrowers – which Gwen adored – skittered across his mind. For all of her skill, she seemed to only annoy the Titan, but even Krios couldn't ignore a thorn in his side as dangerous as Reyna, Praetor of New Rome. Her gladius and armour flashed in the silver glow of the Titan's starry skin, and she danced out of the reach of his massive pilum.
What happened next was so horrible, everything else seemed to slow down around it, like there was only space in the world for one thing at once and the rest of time had to make room. He remembered a snatched conversation that morning, waiting to give the attacking order:
"You know what I find funny, Jason?"
"What?"
"How you can have all of the amazing skill in the world, be the best of your kind, but it only takes one mistake. You can block a thousand mortal blows, but if you miss just one, and by just a little bit, you're dead, and your cause is lost. Everything counts for nothing."
She turned to glance across at Jason, trying to determine where he was – mea culpa – and the blunt end of Krios' spear slammed into her torso with an audible and sickening crack. She flew across the grand throne room of the new dynasty, a discarded remnant of the losing side. Jason threw up his hand on impulse, willing the air to slow her trajectory. It did soften the impact a little, but she still hit the wall with a dull thud and crumpled to the ground like a broken rag doll. She didn't move again. He might've screamed her name – he couldn't really remember – but he certainly got Krios' attention. The Titan smiled cheerfully, and Jason's vision went red around the edges. "Oh, sorry, little one. Did I break something of yours?"
"Don't. Even. Touch her."
If Reyna had been in any state to observe proceedings - heck, he couldn't even be sure if she was still breathing - Jason knew she'd have yelled at him. Reyna was all about the artistry of battle, thinking it through. Jason, on the other hand, just kind of went with it. He had no great plan to save them, no strategy. But there was no way in Olympus or Tartarus that this creature was going to hurt his best friend any more. He leapt towards the Titan, twisted and, using the wind to propel him, struck a deep gash through Krios' calf. He was rewarded with a roar of pain, but didn't hang around to gloat. Reyna'd had the right idea: keep moving. One blow from that thing, and Jason knew he'd be dead. He tried again, but Krios was faster. Jason was forced into the defensive - practically suicide with something this size - and had to block a direct strike from a spear that was thicker than he was. Imperial gold clanged against the strange, star-spangled metal and Jason staggered with the force of the impact. Somehow he managed not to shatter every bone in his wrist, but he couldn't count on taking a strike like that again. Demigods were often ADHD, Jason had been told (having grown up at camp, the outside world and education system were kind of alien to him) and he supposed that he was too: the battle blurred into a sequence of strike-block-move-cold-strike-dodge-run-swing-repeat. He felt almost hypnotised by the gleam of the blades and the rhythm of the fight.
One of the cracked-pot old lares back home used to appear randomly in sword-fighting lessons, back when Jason was just a little kid with a wooden gladius, and wave a sword-sheath like a cane, crying, "it's a dance, boy, a dance!"
For the first time, he realised that the old lar had had a point. He knew that lightning was his biggest ace, possibly his best chance of winning this, but he was too exhausted to focus; anyway, Krios wasn't giving him much room to gather his thoughts.
Ten minutes could've passed, or an hour. His thoughts strayed back to his comrades, being overrun and possibly slaughtered on the slopes. And Reyna, who might already be dead. The surge of anger was exactly what he needed. Reyna had done her work: ichor dripped down from the top of Krios' starry armour as if she'd gone for the jugular. If Jason could work on that wound... He scrabbled back out of reach and quickly closed his eyes – dangerous, but he needed to concentrate – before a wicked spear of pure electricity lanced down through the smoky roof and sank straight into the base of Krios' throat. The Titan staggered, but did not fall. Jason, undeterred, pressed home his advantage and flung himself upon his enemy, using the winds to guide him. He latched his fingers around the highest edge of the giant breastplate and sank his sword in under the collarbone. Krios bellowed in rage and agony, grabbed the gladius-hilt and Jason in one massive fist and flung them both away.
Fortunately, Jason tended to bounce rather than break when thrown at walls.
Unfortunately, the two fell on opposite sides of the room; Jason's quivering weapon stuck point-first at the foot of the black throne. Artistic, but not particularly useful. Now, a sword that returned to its owner if lost: that, he could use right now.
He propped himself up, trying to ignore his body's screams of protest and the ringing in his ears - Krios could just step on him if he didn't move, and it'd all be over - and reached out for a weapon, for anything. Jason needed a miracle.
His fingers brushed against something soft, and he realised that it was Reyna's hair, splayed out around her like a mermaid's where the tie had come loose. It was a chilling, but oddly peaceful moment; a strange, quiet thought wormed into his mind. They might die here, side by side.
No more wars.
No more battles.
No more pain.
But then his brain started to work again. Reyna... he shifted his reach down a little and their fingertips brushed – gods, she was so cold – but he found what he was looking for: another's blade. He gripped Reyna's gladius hilt and pulled himself unsteadily upright. He could still win this.
"Krios!" The Titan turned at the sound of his name.
"Still not dead yet, little hero?" Had Jason imagined the quavering in the edge of his voice?
"You'll have to try harder than that, Titan." Jason summoned the winds one last time, but instead of targeting Krios, he flung himself towards the great black throne. His exhaustion was beginning to show: what would usually be a steady glide transformed into an aerial tumble, and he staggered to a clumsy halt on the high seat of the new Titanic kingdom. Krios was definitely staggering now, but Jason knew that, even now, he wouldn't survive another bout of hand-to-hand combat. Instead, he plunged Reyna's sword, Excalibur-style, into the dark throne.
The effect was instantaneous.
The platform upon which Jason stood began to crumble, and wisps of shadow curled away as smoke. He lost his grip on the sword hilt as it splintered into slivers of gold which fell straight through the swiftly-vanishing throne and clattered to the ground; one by one, the stars on Krios' armour flickered out. The Titan roared in pain and outrage before, to Jason's amazement, breaking apart into those weird shadow-wisps that now streaked the crumbling throne room, whirling in a blackening maelstrom. Pausing only to close his fingers around the grip of his own gladius, he raced towards the prone figure on the ground and half-carried, half dragged her from the ruins. The sunlight almost blinded him as he staggered out on to the rocky mountainside and sank to his knees, Reyna little more than a dead weight in his arms. He propped her up as best as he could, her head lolling against his shoulder, and turned to see sinuous black wraiths sink into the ground, leaving nothing but skeletal fingers of rock clawing at the sky, as if the Titans were trying to drag themselves back out of Tartarus.
Hopefully, it would take them a while.
"Reyna!" If she heard him, there was no visible sign. Ambrosia and unicorn horn they had down at the base, but the Praetors had exhausted their (minimal) supply hours before. The giant eagles would be doing their work as well, ferrying the wounded back down to the temporary field infirmary the medics would have set up at the foot of the mountain, but they were too busy on the lower slopes. There was no guarantee that two battered figures at the pinnacle of so much destruction would ever be found in time. He said her name again, brushing a few raven-strands from her face. His desperation turned to something like frustration, and he muttered. "Reyna Avila Ramírez-Arellano, or however you freaking well say it, I did not finish killing a bloody Titan just to have you die on me now. You've never been the kind to give up half way through a task. Don't change that now. Reyna." Impossible as it was, she stirred, just a little, her eyelashes fluttering. He was almost too stunned to react. Her dark eyes were somewhere between blue and brown, and in the smoky light they looked almost purple. Maybe it was just his vision starting to blur. "Reyna, look." He wasn't sure if she could hear him or not, but he smiled – maybe he had finally lost it – and told her, "it's over, we won. I told you we would, didn't I?" She actually glanced up at him and nodded drowsily, slumped against his chest. She might even have smiled, but it was difficult to tell. It was strange to see her like that. Not just the blood and the wounds; she actually looked like a girl, rather than a woman. As some of Jason's friends in the fifth would have said – they were all a little intimidated by the other Praetor, he knew – maybe she's (half-)human after all.
He looked up and saw the silhouette of an eagle circling far above: an apt symbol of the Roman victory, he thought, and all the recognition they were likely to get from the gods. In terms of the level of gratitude available, being a Roman demigod pretty much sucked. Somewhere down the mountain, he heard familiar shouting - at least some of the others were still alive – and knew that the eagles had found them.
"You'll be fine now, Reyna," he told his friend as he gingerly lowered her to the ground, trying to keep from hurting her further. "We'll be just fine."
xXx
I started this months ago, but couldn't figure out how to end it. Also, with luck, I'll be starting and English Literature/ Creative Writing degree after the summer, as long as I pass the exams I should be revising for. As such, I've been concentrating on my original stuff much more. None of my fanfiction is ever my best work, but you guys seem to enjoy it. **shrugs**
As ever, I own nothing but my own writing style.
You wouldn't guess that Jasiper are my ultimate OTP and I don't actually ship these two romantically... I wrote this as a friendship story, but you're free to interpret it as you wish. Here's to you, Jeyna-shippers.
As for my motives for writing this story, here's an extract from an anti-Jason-haters rant I did the other day:
"Percy defeated a titan!"
Jason defeated Krios without Percy's advantage of the curse/ blessing of Achilles.
"Kronos was more dangerous than Krios."
The titan WASN'T more dangerous.. In TLO, Percy THINKS that Krios isn't a threat if they defeat Kronos, but the Romans think the opposite, therefore ensuring that both sides fight in the battle while remaining unaware of each other. That's the whole point of the plotline. Also, the Romans were fighting uphill in offense rather than defense, putting them at a major tactical disadvantage. It made sense to have the Romans storm Mount Othrys rather than the Greeks because there's more of them, what with legacies and whatnot, but still…
"Percy has done so much more than Jason ever did."
Jason almost certainly did equally amazing things… We just don't know about them because he hasn't got a book series dedicated to him. They are alluded to a lot in HoO, though.
I would all-but sell my soul for a genuine Uncle Rick short story showing the badassery behind Jason's fight with Krios, but it's probably never going to happen, so I made my own.
And I figured that if anything could drive Jason to fight and defeat a Titan, his best friend being threatened would: Piper would do it for Leo (and vice-versa) and Percy would do it for Grover or any of his friends. You know it's true.
Anyway, thank you for reading and please review and I will love you forever: it's what keeps me writing.