A/N: You are all the best. I'm glad that you like it. Please enjoy this chapter and have a very merry holiday season! :)

Part Three: Jason (Cont'd)

ii.

Jason is right. Well, he's right about a lot of things (not that Reyna would ever tell him so), but he's right about how Reyna becomes an essential member of the Twelfth Legion.

For the first time in her life, Reyna feels worthy. Her sharpness makes her a top tactician and incomparable warrior. She makes friends within her cohort that are not Octavian, but feels the freedom to hang out with Jason and his cohort whenever she needs a little bit of fun (or maybe just some Kool-Aid).

Sometimes she and Jason hang out one-on-one—it's not that big of a deal—and when they're not sparring, she sits pressed against his shoulder and they look up at the stars and they talk about family and home and laugh and sometimes cry. Her heart comes together piece by piece and Jason's fingerprints are on each one, guiding them into place. She's beginning to feel things she's never felt before and the loss of control terrifies her. It's been a long time since she's trusted anyone, let alone a boy, so she suppresses any desire she has to kiss him senseless. Instead she gives him a hard time about his miserable attempts at playing the cithara and tips for leading the Fifth during war games and if she also gives him her heart, she doesn't tell him any more than she tells herself.

Apparently being a daughter of the Goddess of War did not prepare her for the affairs of the heart.

Everything seems to happen very quickly. She becomes a full member of the legion after a particularly gruesome slaying of a Cyclopes caravan taking chariot supplies somewhere further east. Less than a year later, she is made Centurion of the First Cohort when Jessica Hunter matriculates into Stanford. Octavian almost drools on himself, as if Reyna would suddenly hook up with him because they were now the metaphorical mother and father of a cohort of soldiers.

Normally, being a Centurion is an honorific title bestowed upon the best soldiers in each cohort. You command your cohort during war games and defend them against other unruly campers. You laugh and lead and eventually move on to the Real World or perhaps just New Rome. It's not like in the old days when you would lead your cohort into battle against Titans and Gods.

At least, that's what Reyna expects. It isn't until Beth Sheppard is killed on a quest to Alcatraz that the legion realizes the severity of the situation. Kirk is reluctant to replace her too quickly, but in a time like this, there is never a want for battles to raise up a new praetor. Sam Fletcher, Centurion of the Second Cohort, is elected to replace her.

Suddenly war games aren't games anymore. Reyna is fourteen and a war general. It is almost laughable if there weren't so much blood. She's never had to handle a dead body before, not even her father's, and soon her hair won't stop smelling of ash from the burning pyres.

Octavian spews prophecy like a cobra's venom into camp. A Half-Blood of the eldest gods shall reach sixteen against all odds...the hero's soul, cursed blade shall reap…

Jason is the only child of the eldest gods at Camp Jupiter and his fifteenth birthday ends up being the most grossly over-compensated event to have ever occurred. There are balloons and Hannibal is decorated in silly string and streamers. Dakota's spiked the punch bowl with extra sugar and legionnaires are jumping around like nymphs from Apollo.

"It's probably not even a current prophecy," Jason remarks over cake. It's ice cream, his favorite. "And you know what happens when you try to fulfill a prophecy out of time."

Reyna picks at her icing. "Mikey Varus."

Jason sighs audibly. "It'd be just like Octavian. Predicting my death so that I do something irrational and kill myself and he can run the camp. He hates anyone more popular or more powerful than him."

"You're not going to die, Jason," Reyna says. She wills it true. "Consider it a birthday present. No matter what happens. I will beat down the Doors of Death before I—before Camp Jupiter loses you."

He looks at her with eyes like the oncoming night. "Promise?"

She nods. "I promise."

iii.

When the First and Fifth Cohorts band together to defeat the Trojan Sea Monster, Reyna and Jason return as heroes. The victory is bittersweet, however, when they find out that Kirk Young was killed—along with over a dozen members of the second, third, and fourth cohorts—defending the camp from invaders. "A trick," Reyna spits out with fire. "To leave New Rome undefended."

The Feast of Fortuna is a mere week later, resulting in elections for the new praetor. Octavian and his supporters make a strong case for him, while the lower cohorts prop up Jason—the son of the eldest god who defeated the Trojan Sea Monster and doesn't make people want to claw their eyes out. Arguments go in circles and it's obvious that the two sides are deadlocked.

That is, until a small voice fights through the crowd. "I nominate Reyna Warden."

Reyna almost falls over herself in shock. She turns her head to see Gwen standing firm. "I nominate Reyna Warden," she repeats. "She is a daughter of Bellona, a brilliant tactician, and one of the heroes against the Trojan Sea Monster. She serves with dignity and ability." Gwen smiles at Reyna. "I can't think of a better praetor."

Reyna still doesn't know what to say and then another voice speaks—"I second the nomination!" It's Jason. He gives her a wink.

Suddenly the entire senate is behind her nomination—even Octavian finally falls in line. "So it will be," Sam declares. "Reyna Warden, you are our new praetor."

Reyna hasn't said a single word, but suddenly she finds herself on the shoulders of her fellow legionnaires, praying that she won't fall.

"You know, I've been here eleven years and I only made Centurion last year," Jason notes with a shrug. "You're a little bit of an overachiever, Reyna."

"Oh please," Reyna rolls her eyes. "You deserve this more than I do. You're the one who literally flew up into the air and dealt the final blow."

"Ah, but you came up with the brilliant idea to seek out Aeolus to find the sea monster in the first place and then thankfully convinced Octavian to let the First Cohort back me up on a doomed quest." He sighs. "Anyway, I'm part of the cursed Fifth Cohort. You can't trust us! If I were in charge, I might lose Hannibal or Skippy." At Reyna's look, he corrects himself—"I would never lose Skippy." Jason, more than anyone else, had taken to her nickname for Scipio.

She smiles, but it only lasts for a moment before darker thoughts invade her mind. "Can I tell you something? You can't tell anyone else, especially not Sam."

Jason leans dramatically across her bed. "Please don't tell me that you're secretly dating Octavian."

Reyna throws a pillow at him. He catches it with a grin. "I'm being serious, Jason."

"Fine. Serious. Go."

Gingerly, Reyna sits down on the bed next to Jason. She takes her spare pillow and holds it close to her stomach. "I'm scared that I'm not the right one to lead the legion."

Jason sits up. "Hey. You are definitely the right one to lead us."

She shakes her head. "No, I'm not. I got this job because Octavian refuses to let you become praetor and the rest of the legion has enough common sense not to allow Octavian to become praetor. I'm the least offensive of all alternatives." She inhales deeply. "Worst of all, I'm the reason Kirk and all of them got killed. I should have realized the monster was a distraction. A true tactician would have realized that."

Jason shakes his head. "No offense to Sam, but I trust you more than anyone here. You are the best tactician we've got—no, don't argue. No one realized that Kronos would send his forces against the camp. But you saved the entire Fifth Cohort from certain destruction and that takes brains and bravery." He tucks a loose curl behind her ear and Reyna shudders lightly. She can feel the heat of his body radiating onto her skin and it makes her slightly dizzy. "You're relentless and loyal and willing to stick up for every member of the Twelfth, regardless of if they have twenty letters or none. You are my choice for praetor. Anyway," he smirks, "it's not very Roman to turn down power."

A few years ago, she would have agreed with him that she's not very Roman at all, but there's something about his confidence in her that makes her want to be the best Roman legionnaire the world has ever seen. "Is that so?" she considers with a half-smile. "Well then, I suppose I should accept that I am now your boss."

He mock salutes. "Aye, ma'am."

"In that case, I would like an ice cream sundae, soldier," she orders with a twinkle in her eye.

"Whipped cream?" he asks, still at contrived attention.

"And a cherry," she adds. "Are you up to the challenge?"

With delicate grace, Jason suddenly drops the super-subordinate façade. His eyes clear, he looks at her earnestly. "I would do anything for New Rome and her elected praetor."

In his wide blue eyes, Reyna forgets about the titans rising and all of her responsibilities as praetor. She might not be perfect, but for the first time in her life, she has people relying on her, believing in her. The best people. And she'd rather die than let them down.

iv.

The way up to Kronos' black throne is filled with enemies of every shape and size. In anticipation of the greatest battle of their lives, the entire Twelfth Legion Fulminata follows Reyna and Sam into the fray. Reyna has never fought so many monsters and, to her surprise and horror, human demigods. The image of she and Hylla on opposite sides of a fight won't leave her mind as she stabs a demigod through the chest. He doesn't disintegrate, but falls lifelessly to the ground.

They make it up the mountain, step by step. The normally orderly Twelfth Legion has dissipated into a Greek-like mess of disorganization. Reyna screams for the ranks to remain tight and then—wham! She is slammed against the rock face. She tries to stand, but instead she coughs up blood.

A drakon ambles toward her, scales like sheet metal and breath like the depths of a volcano. Reyna reaches out for her dagger, but her fingers can barely reach the hilt. She urges herself to a kneel, then one foot, then the other, and grabs her dagger as the drakon barrels down on her.

Suddenly, it screams and bursts into dust. Reyna shakes, tightening her grip on her weapon, expecting to see Jason or Sam coming to her rescue.

Instead, the dust settles and reveals Hylla. She's older, face thinner, and she's inexplicably wearing a black jumpsuit, but it's Hylla. Reyna resists the urge to cry out.

Neither says anything. Instead, Hylla just looks at Reyna with sad eyes—I tried so hard to save you from all of this. I'm so sorry.—and Reyna hears her heart beat in her ears like the sound of the ocean.

"Reyna!" She turns and sees Jason, who has managed to make it to the entrance. The way is clear, but the relative peace won't last more than a few seconds. "We've got to go."

"Hylla—" Reyna spins around. Her sister is gone.

When Jason plunges his sword into Krios, the titan is about to pummel Reyna with his fist. Krios falls to his knees and disintegrates.

Jason runs to Reyna, who has a javelin in her ribcage. Blood drenches her uniform, her hair, her everything. Jason pulls her into his arms and the blood starts to stain his jeans like her tears used to stain his shirt. "Reyna. Hey, look at me. Stay with me."

Reyna tries desperately to keep her eyes open, but she's so tired and the pain in her chest is unbearable. "Did we win?"

"We won. We did it. You did it." Jason brushes her hair from her face. "Come on, Reyna. You've got to stay with me." He swallows hard. "Dakota! Gwen! Dammit, anyone! I need help. Gods, I need—"

He presses his hand into her wound, and it hurts even though she knows he's just trying to stop the blood flow. "Jason, I—I have to tell you something."

"Shh, Reyna. You're going to make it."

Her breath catches in her throat. "No, I'm not." A drop falls on her face and then another and she realizes Jason is crying. She's never seen him cry before and it scares her more than her impending death. "Don't cry. I order you not to cry."

"You can't tell me what to do," he says defiantly, but his voice is hitched onto a ragged throat.

"I am your praetor and you will do exactly what I tell you to do. So stop crying."

He blinks rapidly, and the tears halt for a moment. That's all Reyna needs.

"You are the greatest warrior out of the entire legion, Jason. I couldn't have done this—done anything without you. I was all alone and you saved me. I want you to replace me. You're the only one I trust."

Jason cups her face in his hand. "Stop talking like that."

"Stop interrupting me! Please, Jason. Just listen."

With a slow nod, Jason agrees. "I'm listening."

"Promise me that you will become praetor. Promise me that you'll take care of everyone. Promise."

"I promise." He presses her wound harder.

Reyna hisses and coughs. She tastes blood on her lips. It's now or never. "And…I just wanted to say...you're my best friend. You're my family. You're my home. And I-I—" She tries to form the words in her mouth, but her tongue feels fuzzy.

"Hey, me too." Jason leans in closer. "Me too."

The last thing she feels is Jason's kiss on her lips.

v.

As the dust settles, Sam steps down. Leading the legion for almost the entire length of the battle against the titans has aged him—his eyes are harder, his voice hoarse from shouting. He doesn't retire to New Rome or go to college or any of the things former praetors tend to do. "I'm tired, Reyna," he says in the hushed tones she grew used to over countless battles and plans. "I need to be alone. Travel. For a son of Mercury, I've stayed in one place for much too long."

He leaves the next day. The only trace of him is a note stuffed under Reyna's door: Take care of them. Take care of yourself. She holds the note to her chest and prays that Sam finds the peace he seeks.

Based on his defeat of Krios and his subsequent ride on the shields of the Legion, Jason is elected praetor and Reyna tries to hide the glow rising from her chest to her eyes.

There's been so much change so quickly that Reyna expects it to keep happening. It's strange that the return to normal is what surprises her. Eating dinner, playing war games, punishing legionnaires who inadequately clean their barracks—things she almost forgot but she comes back to like a well-worn bicycle. Even Jason quickly falls into the role of praetor like nothing major had happened for the past few years.

They don't talk about the kiss. If anything, Jason avoids spending time with her one-on-one. She asks him to play a round of Myth-O-Magic, he invites Bobby. She suggests he meet with her at her praetor house for war game strategizing and he insists they meet during dinner instead. It's almost laughable how bad the excuses get—she knows he doesn't take two hours to shower, for crying out loud—so she decides to take matters into her own hands.

One night, after the Senate disperses, Reyna asks Jason to stay back with her in the principia. With plenty of witnesses, he can't back out. Octavian gives him a snide look that is both jealous and condescending, but Jason ignores him.

When the door closes them in, just the two of them, Jason shifts with nervous energy. "What's up, Reyna?" he asks, sliding into his praetor chair as she closes the doors. "I will never get over how comfortable these are." He pats the arms of the chair for good measure, hands refusing to settle down.

Reyna takes a deep breath. She's prepared everything—her accusation of his boyish immaturity, her confession of her feelings, their romance for the ages—and she opens her mouth to start reciting. Unfortunately, one glance into his blue eyes startles her into incoherence. Instead, she fumbles out, "How is Hazel doing?"

"You wanted to talk to me about Hazel?" Jason raises an eyebrow. "You barely allowed her into the Legion and haven't expressed the slightest interest in her since she came."

Reyna bites her lip. "It's just that I worry about her." She averts her eyes from his, trying to think clearly. "It can be difficult, that's all. Two powerful demigods against the world, one at Camp Jupiter, one gods know where. I want to make sure her transition goes smoothly. That we become her family if Nico isn't up for the challenge."

Jason leans forward on his knees. "That's what this is about," he murmurs. His blue eyes are earnest. "You should contact Hylla."

Reyna pales. "That's not what I meant," she insists.

He shrugs. "I would never force you to do anything you didn't want to do. But you can't deny that you do miss her. It's been four years. Maybe it's time to let bygones be bygones." Jason gives her a solemn smile. "I would give anything to see my sister again."

Jason rarely talks about Thalia ever since he spent the winter break of their thirteenth year looking for her, coming up with a local New York newspaper article about a girl matching Thalia's description who was killed in a forest fire. There was no body.

Reyna looks down. How does he know her so well and yet not at all? "I'll consider seeking out Hylla," she concedes.

Jason shrugs. "That's all I ask." His eyes meet hers and she realizes that that's all he ever has to do and she'll say yes.

"You know, you might be more trouble than you're worth, Jason Grace," Reyna remarks with an upturned lip. "Questioning my motives, allowing any demigod off the street to join the Legion. Sam never gave me this much difficulty."

"That's why you love me," he answers. Reyna blanches and he coughs quickly. "I'm just doing my job."

"And you do it well," she responds, mouth dry.

A moment passes, stagnant. Finally, Jason shifts upright in his seat. "Is that it?" he asks. "Not that I—I'm not in any rush. After all, we haven't really had a chance to hang out in a while. Not just you and me."

Reyna hopes her cheeks don't blush too brightly. "We haven't." she confirms. She summons her courage. "It's about time to feed Skippy. Walk with me?"

Jason smiles. "Always."

They walk side-by-side to the stables. His hand brushes hers once, twice—four times, but who's counting? They prop themselves up on the fence and, after feeding Skippy more-than-generous servings of Kool-Aid and apples smeared with his peanut-butter namesake, they sit in silence, gazing up at the stars.

Jason speaks first. "Kool-Aid?" he asks, offering the rest of his cup.

Reyna shakes her head. "I'm good, thanks."

With a nod, Jason takes a swig from his cup. He looks back at the stars, drinks again, and then clears his throat. "Listen, Reyna—I'm sorry I've been so weird lately. It has nothing to do with you. I mean, it does, but…" His voice drifts off.

Reyna's breath stops in her chest. She can already hear his voice in the silence: It was a mistake. An oh-gods-we're-dying reaction. It meant nothing. She holds her hands tightly in her lap, waiting for her eventual destruction, like a warrior cornered without a blade. "It's okay." The words somehow find their way out. "I get it."

"No, you don't," he says. It comes out deeper somehow. Reyna can feel his voice vibrating to her core. "I've wanted to tell you this for a long time, but I couldn't find the right words." He looks up at the stars, as if they will whisper the right words to him. "You mean a lot to me, Reyna."

Her heart skips a beat. "You mean a lot to me, too," she answers.

A moment of silence passes and then Jason finally looks at her. Reyna is suddenly aware of how close they are. His eyes are dark as they flicker from her eyes to her lips and back. "Reyna, I—" His words are rumbling again.

Reyna is a tactician, a warrior. She calculates the best route to success and executes it. And if that plan fails, she fights her way to success.

So when Jason doesn't pull away, she closes her eyes and kisses him. His lips taste like cherry Kool-Aid and his tongue is sweeter still. His hands find their way into her hair and hers find their way onto his chest. They kiss and kiss and Reyna feels every pretense she's ever put up melt away.

When they part, Jason's breath matches hers while her heart beats twice as fast. His face, normally so serious, won't stop smiling and, gods help her, it's contagious.

He walks her to her door and he kisses her once more for good measure. "I'll pick you up for breakfast tomorrow," he murmurs.

She lets her gaze fall across every feature of his face, memorizing everything from the sparkle in his eyes to the scar on his lip. "Promise?" she asks.

"I promise," he answers, squeezing her hand. His eyes are brighter than Apollo's chariot.

Reyna has never had anything but nightmares, but that night she dreams in happily-ever-afters.

Jason disappears the next day.

To be continued in Part Four: Octavian:

"Reyna unsheathes her dagger and draws it to Octavian's throat. He swallows hard, his body trembling. He's not a warrior, but a politician. It makes Reyna sick."

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