A/N: The Perseus who gave up the women to Rome is the son of Philip V of Macedon. In the real timeline he took the throne roughly ten years later than this timeline. In the real timeline he resisted Rome for a time but ultimately lost. The reasons behind Jason's "issues" will come out in later updates.
Reposted this chapter due to some timeline issues that needed to be resolved. Reyna's thoughts matched the correct timeline but the years did not.
Placentia, northern Italy
The Boii were not nearly as organized as the Macedonians. The two legions Jason had marched from Macedon had been joined by two conscript legions from Rome provided by Scipio. Tiberius Sempronius Longus was the other consul and by rights a consular army led by him should have marched north, considering Scipio's success in Africa, but Scipio already had a praetor in the field. Thus, the glory by proxy became his.
Reyna watched Jason defeat them. In an antithesis of the fight against Philip V, she had not even drawn her sword, acting solely as a commander and not a soldier. The outcome had never been in debate. The Gallic horde had broken against the veteran legions and the conscripts had routed the rest. Unlike the Macedonians, Jason had not slaughtered the survivors. Reyna could not say she understood his reasons. The slaves sent back were going to make them exceedingly rich. The Boii chieftain had fled north, so unlike Perseus of Macedon, there would be no recurring shipment of slaves. After the victory messages arrived from Rome. The consular legions were to return to Rome to disband and Jason was to accompany them. Reyna would be left to command their army and move them south to the Dalmatian coast for their winter camp.
Michael Kahale met her at the gate to the camp they would use. Dalmatia was yet to be its own province. Illyricum would be split eventually to form the province of Dalmatia and Pannonia, but that was years in the future. Michael was serving under the governor of Illyricum as his legion commander. Hazel and Frank had done a much better job than the original Roman commanders during the Illyrian Wars and they were convinced that the third Illyrian War would never happen. Frank and Hazel were still babysitting Philip V's child, Perseus, in Macedonia. Thrace would be their next mission. She was to wait in Dalmatia until Jason returned from Rome with, she assumed, a mandate to conquer Greece. Personally Reyna was skeptical of the idea. The Greece Rome had conquered in their past was fractured and weak. The rumors were claiming there was a king in Athens of all places who had united all of Attica, the Aegean, Asia Minor's eastern coast, and even the Peloponnese. The Peloponnese had apparently been a bloody conquest, particularly in Achaea.
"Michael, what news from Greece?" Officially Reyna did not outrank him, but Camp Jupiter training still guided his mind.
"Ma'am, the king of Athens sailed a hundred and fifty ships to Crete after the chaos that Macedon's downfall caused. He conquered it in less than a week. Grain flows into Greece again. They say the king is incredibly powerful. Both as a fighter and ruler. If Greece is our next mission, it will not be easy."
"The legion has defeated the phalanx many times."
"Can it defeat a man who caused the ground to swallow his enemies?"
"What?" Reyna's eyes had snapped back to Kahale and away from her goblet of wine.
"A pirate, a criminal we captured told us he was the only survivor of a fleet that razed Salamis. The king there brought an army. But instead of using it he caused the earth to swallow the entire pirate army. Five hundred men, gone in seconds."
"Earthshaker," she whispered. This was rapidly becoming her worst fear. Jason Grace leading Roman legions into Greece to face the son of Poseidon.
"The former praetor?" Reyna let the question hang in the air and instead responded by taking a large drink of her wine.
Athens
Annabeth was screaming as Percy gripped her hand in anxiety. They had made the proper sacrifices to Artemis and as much as they did not want to, Hera. And in the true fashion, it means fucking nothing, thought Percy. The baby was coming, the problem was it was coming early. Percy knew there was blood that would come with giving birth. But the amount of it pooling under Annabeth made him nauseous. No godsdamnit. I've fought a hundred battles. I can't break now. Not when she fucking needs me. Father, I ask you for nothing ever. But keep me here. Don't let your brother take her from me again. Percy Jackson would never forgive himself for the prayer he prayed that night.
Dalmatian Coast
Reyna splashed water on her face. Her legion had been in garrison with Michael Kahale's for far too long. She was certain any military commander would have said that garrison is the worst place to command an army. The bullshit that soldiers get into when they are without a war to fight was more than she wanted to deal with. It was her ninth year fighting in the actual legions of Rome. Nine years stuck in a past she did not know how she got there. Four years sense she gave the last bit of herself to the son of Jupiter. And nearly a year since she realized it meant nothing to him.
She had made her choices. To regret them only hurt her. After three years of sharing his bed, nothing had changed between them. As much as she wanted it to change, it did not. Such was life. Word had come from Rome that Jason was now married to a daughter of Scipio and set to be elected to Consul. Once elected his tasks would be commanded from the Senate alone. The year was now 196 BC by her math. Supposedly this king of Greece had appeared the same time as the Romans had, solidifying her opinion of who the king was.
Percy fucking Jackson, she thought, he's the only demigod powerful enough to be behind the stories. As much as she was wary of his ability to call the storms as she had seen him do, as much as she was afraid of his ability to shake the earth as the stories told, what was most terrifying were the rumors of what he did in Tartarus. Being able to turn a person's blood against him. There was so much wrong with it, at the same time a small part of her Roman respect for power respected a man with that ability that did not use it. The scouts they had sent south to observe the Greeks. They were not supposed to do anything else.
Athens
It had been six months since the still birth. Annabeth and Percy had barely interacted since that time. Each blamed themselves. Annabeth said she should not have gone to Crete and over worked herself. Percy said his prayers tipped the scales against his son. Both knew that was not true, but they also could not shake the ideas. After a week of not being able to be in the same room without breaking down or lying in bed without speaking, he had moved to another room in the palace. They had not shared a bed or a meal since. A storm was raging outside the palace, its epicenter to the southeast near Piraeus.
Neither of them withdrew from their duties. Both executed daily plans like nothing had happened. Because to everyone but Demosthenes, nothing had. The still birth was a secret. Not even Zoe had been told the truth of the matter. She just kept innocently asking why her mother and father were not talking and would not play with her together. Neither of them knew how to answer her. She was bridge between as much as Demosthenes. Even Annabeth found herself willing to talk to the Athenian soldier. She had gone on to say, after two empty jars of wine, that "You're more of parent than either of us have ever had other than Sally, and the fucking gods took her away too."
"You should not be so dismissive of the beings that allow our lives. They can be cruel as they merciful at times. Your husband curses them as well, because he fears that by praying for your safety, he condemned your son. You know him, what is he going to think if there is even the slightest chance that he holds blame?"
"Of course he's going to blame himself, but I'm the one that…" The general cut her off.
"YOU ARE BOTH ONES WHO ARE LETTING YOUR DAUGHTER DIE ON THE INSIDE. She is eight. Do you think she does not these things. Do you not think she also blames herself for this? She knows you not her real mother and she thinks she is forcing you apart." Annabeth froze at his words. How have neither of us thought of this. He seemed to sense her words.
"Because you are grieving. He has told me your story. When have you had time to grieve?" His voice had softened greatly. "After the first war? When he vanished shortly afterwards? During the next war? In Tartarus? Or just months later, where you were more happy about surviving Tartarus and being together? When he woke up here and you were gone again? My dear queen, you have never been allowed to grieve. You don't know how to. So you are both doing what fall back on. You are think and over thinking and thinking again, not talking to others. By not talking to others, you do not hear others. You do not hear the pain in his voice or Zoë's. In his pain he channeled everything he has to his skills and he does not talk. He is fighting wars and battles he need not. Skirmishes that should require a captain and a few soldiers and he is going alone. Using powers to defeat enemies and then regretting it, his emotions are the sea, the sea wants justice for your dead son, and he reaping it upon the only enemies he can find."
The room felt suddenly cold to her. All effects of the wine had seemed to vanish. She stared at the man before her. Pain shown in his eyes. His hair and beard were gray. Scars marred any of his skin she could see. He was a soldier, a leader, but in that moment he was greatest man she had ever listened to. Her own pain was still there and it would never leave. But his words at assuaged it some. When he spoke his voice was tired.
"I have laid to rest three of my four children, my queen. One when he was seven days old to fever, the older two both less than a month after they became men. I have dedicated my life to Athens' and now the king's service. I taught that too well. I watched them join the army and then I watched them die wearing its uniform. I have one daughter who does not speak to me because I killed her brothers and that caused her mother's suicide." He took a deep breath. Annabeth could tell it was his method of burying the emotions. "I pray to the gods that she watches my pyre burn, I do not care if she is joyous when it happens, but at least some part of me lives on. He may be the king and descended from a god, but Perseus is my second chance as the father to a son. I will not watch you and he do what my wife and I did."
"Did you talk to him?" Annabeth was not sure why that was her question. The soldier in front of her had given more than anyone ever should to service. He had just revealed all his pain and through it hers, but what mattered was suddenly Percy.
"No." He gave a small, mirthless smile. "The sea does not like to be constrained. Sometimes it takes a second storm to change its course."
"His father," whispered Annabeth. With a pained smile, Demosthenes nodded before turning to the empty hallway behind them.
"I have done what I can, my lady, I take my leave." Without a pause a tall woman with dark hair stepped from behind a column. Two pairs of steel gray eyes met as Annabeth looked at her mother. The goddess moved towards her.
"Mother," Annabeth said softly and willing fell into her mother's embrace. The goddess was shocked and it took her several moments before she wrapped her lithe arms around Annabeth.
"Daughter." Athena said the word softly, but it meant more to her than even she could express. She had never been particularly close with any of her children. There were times she wanted to be, she witnessed the interactions between the children of Hermes, Apollo, and even Poseidon and their deity parent. It was a course of action that she always managed to counter with some form of logic or reason. In this moment, she did not. She held her daughter in her arms and was thankful that her daughter allowed it.
Near the Port of Piraeus
The eye of a small hurricane surrounded Percy Jackson. Outside of it the wind howled and white capped waves slammed against the Greek coastline. The fisherman and traders were in for the night so he could release his rage upon the sea tonight. They let him die! He shouted in his head. But you are the one who prayed for her safety, a small voice countered. Fuck off! He thought. But did all those men deserve death by your blade or power. Answered the voice. I protected my kingdom, my people. The voices answered, Now you protect others? Then why did you not protect Bianca, Charlie, Silena, the namesake of your daughter, Jason? He shook as he clinched his fist and screwed his eyes shut. The storm around him grew.
The small voices that reminded him of all his sins kept changing. One statement it was Kronos, the next Polybotes, then Porphyrion, then Gaia, Atlas taunting him from under the earth. It returned. You prayed for her, not your son, you had a choice, live with your decision. The voice of Tartarus ground through his mind. He had never admitted to anyone, even Annabeth, that Tartarus's voice still lived in his head. "NO!" he shouted and lightning joined the storm and blasted a series of craters around him. "I DID NOT KILL HIM!" Percy shouted to the sky.
"No, you did not." A deep voice cut through the storm. A voice he recognized.
"You come here now father, but you couldn't to save your grandchild." A storm equal to his own was beginning to force the swirling winds and clouds back towards Percy.
"Even a god cannot counter what the Fates, Percy." Percy lashed out with a wave from the sea next to them.
"You expect me to believe the Fates wanted a child to die and Annabeth and I to suffer more?" Poseidon's own wave crashed into his son. Rage flashed across Percy's face and in a moment he had Riptide in his hand. Poseidon looked at his son. Emotion played across his face. Regret, pain, sadness, they created a maelstrom of emotion Percy could not keep up with. Just as suddenly as the rage had overcome Percy, he seemed to realize his actions. His once gritted teeth turned to a slightly open mouthed expression of sorrow. He collapsed to his knees, his storm gone. Poseidon could not end his before the heavy winds forced Percy to the ground. Poseidon rushed toward his son. Tears were streaming down his face.
"What have I done?" he muttered and collapsed to the sand. Poseidon took a few steps forward and sat in the sand next to him. He turned Percy's body to ensure his face was out of the sand and water. He reached out with a hand and rested it on his son's back.
"You've survived, son. With damned little help from me, you've survived."
When Percy awoke he could feel his body resting against something that was not of the beach. The sun was barely appearing over the horizon far to the east. A hand rested upon his back, slowly moving up and down in an attempt to comfort him. He could feel dried sand upon his face, and most of his body still lay upon the course sediment. Slowly he twisted his head and looked up into a mirror.
No not a mirror, he thought, that was dumb. It's father. More and more he looked like his father he knew. Especially after, so many years, he had actually managed to grow facial hair. Once it had appeared however, it quickly became more than he was accustomed to handling and he quickly gave up trying. Currently its darkness was being sabotaged by the gray appearing more and more rapidly with each battle or moment that demonstrated Zoë growing older. His temples were islands of gray with tendrils extending throughout the rest of his hair. The hair was pulled back as his father did in a single large mass bound by bands of leather and gold.
"Dad," he whispered as he sat upright.
"I was hoping you would wake soon, Percy." Poseidon's voice was deep as usually.
"Why are you here?"
"Because Athena and Demosthenes have already spoken to your wife. But no one could force their way through the storm. You both blame yourself for things you shouldn't. And neither one of you will speak to anyone about it." He waved a hand and a jug of wine and two goblets appeared. "Let us have a drink, son, let us just talk for a while." Percy accepted the glass of wine and leaned against the large rock his father was leaning against.
If either of them noticed the dark haired mother and her daughter on the hill above them they did not acknowledge it. Annabeth rested her head against her mother's shoulder as they watched the two men below them. She understood why Demosthenes had been the one to speak to her and not Athena. Her mother and she did not have the connection and relationship that Percy and Poseidon did. Though, it seemed like that might be more possible now. They watched in silence until they heard rapid hoof beats approaching.
"My queen, the horses of guards that left with Zoë for her ride just returned riderless." Dread filled Annabeth's face.
"Percy!" she screamed and both of the dark haired men spun to face her.