Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson
Line breaks symbolise change in time (present to past)
Useful Info:
Dei Consentes = Olympians
Crius = Krios
Julius = Ivlivs (Jason's sword)
Caelus = Ouranus
Elysian = Elysium
The mountain loomed beneath the legion, as they stood, assembled for the battle. The last battle for many of them. Perhaps even the last battle for the human race.
The journey had been long. The hour turned to two in the heat of peak traffic, but they had been prepared. The legion was always prepared.
The last year had been complicated. Mount St Helens had erupted, so spontaneously that it was almost certain godly activity had been the cause. The sheer power of the eruption proved a Titan's involvement: the enemy moving to unleash the Olympians' biggest enemy.
Typhon. The Father of all Monsters.
The Dei Consentes had spent the past year fighting the beast, a raging storm travelling East across America. Away from California, but towards Olympus. The home of the gods.
'Freak Weather'. That's how the news described it. The storms which raged unchecked across the land. Their effects devastating.
The latest news that the legion had from the augers was that Bacchus had fallen.
He was a god. He couldn't die. But he could get close.
The mountain stood tall, its peaks reaching up into the velvet cloak of sky whilst dark storm clouds raged around them, disguising the Titans' home from the mortals.
The obsidian was a stark contrast to the sea of purple which stood beneath it, demigods of old and new lining up against their greatest foe.
They knew not who stood on the other side, whether a legion of monsters, their old friends who'd abandoned the legion – abandoned the gods. Would they be standing on the inside defending his throne? Or would it be the King of the Titans himself. Would Saturn stand before them?
The Romans would stand firm either way. That was the nature of the legion, whichever legion you were, whichever cohort. Courage, even in the face of certain death. To die with grace was to be a Roman. Jason would do whatever it took.
The majority of the legion, the veterans, had been left in New Rome, defending its borders, the innocents inside Terminus' walls. The fourth cohort had been left with the experienced fighters.
The first cohort's centurion Octavian was at camp, citing the necessity of an auger during the turbulent time, and as such had appointed Michael Kahale in his stead as leader.
The second, led by Reyna Ramirez-Arellano stood at the front. The daughter of Bellona was one of the praetors of the twelfth legion. The other, the predecessor to Octavian as the first cohort's centurion, had died two weeks prior in during one of several sieges on the Camp. He had not yet been replaced – there had been no time to breathe, let alone hold an election.
The centurions of the third cohort, the second smallest after the fifth, were Jonathon and Reza. The took the flanks alongside the first cohort.
The fifth cohort was Jason's. He had lived in their walls since he was eight – the youngest age one could be to be inducted into a cohort. He had lived in Camp Jupiter far longer. Since Lupa left him when he was only three, maybe four... In all honesty, he had no idea how old he was.
All he knew was that he had eleven lines on his arm. Eleven lines of service. More than any current member of any cohort within the twelfth legion. If he belonged to any other cohort but the fifth, he would be standing at the front of the forces alongside Reyna.
Even his status as the son of Jupiter did not surpass his cohort's disgrace.
The twelfth legion had always been one of the most esteemed in Roman history. They had been blessed by Jupiter himself, given the eagle standard as a sign of his respect.
They were nicknamed Fulminata by Julius Caesar himself. The Bearers of Lightning. Until the fifth cohort went on a mission and never came back. Or never came back sane. Half were driven mad, half died. The tragedy, however, was washed over by the news: the legion standard had been lost.
Since the 1980s the fifth cohort had fallen out of grace, and out of respect. They were weakened in numbers by Michael Varus' expedition, and no one wanted to fill in the gaps. Most of the bunkbeds lay empty still.
The strongest cohorts, the first and second, claimed the best warriors, the children of Mars, Bellona, or great forgers from Vulcan's loins.
The third cohort held medics and archers, descendants of Apollo and minor gods of medicine and aerial combat. The fourth held the largest number of members. They took the rejects of the first, second and third. Warriors strong, but young and untrained, warriors who the first were too busy to expend time and effort on moulding them into fighters.
The fifth took the rejects of the rejects, the unwanted and undesired, the weak and boneless.
Jason liked to think of himself as an exception. Perhaps that was naïve. Perhaps it was true.
He was the son of Jupiter. With a speculated fifteen years of age and already nearing the six-foot mark. Body conditioned after over a decade in service, over a decade of rigorous training and war games, a decade of being forced to do the scut, the disgusting labour and tricky cleaning. It all helped make him into the man he was today.
The centurion of the fifth cohort. Son of Jupiter. Fighter. Warrior. Roman.
He saw it in the way that his peers looked at him. Sometimes they forgot that he was fifth cohort and they only saw a son of Jupiter. A saviour. Power.
He saw their expectations in their eyes, expectations for him to succeed, to rise to power, to fulfil his promise and reclaim the glory lost by Michael Varus all those decades ago.
Sometimes it made him want to curl up into a ball and give up on everything. But he was a son of Jupiter. He had to stand tall. Always.
"Twelfth Legion." Reyna's voice projected across the base where they stood. The doors ominously casting their shadow over the entire legion, big enough for an army to fit through, or a titan.
"Tonight, our names will go down in the legacy of Rome, as the pride of all of the Roman people, from those watching in Pluto's realms to those not yet born." Each legionnaires' back straightened. This speech symbolised the end for many. The last few minutes before inevitable bloodshed. A final battle.
"We are the warriors of the Gods. As they fight furiously every day to defeat the Father of all Monsters, we fight to aid them, to aid our parents and forefathers, our deities who love us and need us.
"We fight for our future generations. For the future of the Roman people. For the families in New Rome, and for families across the world. We fight for survival and we fight until the death.
"We are Romans. We live with honour and we die with honour. We do not succumb to cowardly sentiments." Her eyes scanned across the disarrayed fifth legion. The fire burned with in them, not a sickly yellow or a flaming orange, but a pitch-black array of flames licking away at the whites in her eyes. For a second, they caught Jason's own.
A sharp contrast in between her storming black and his piercing, lightning blue. Then they tore away, forcefully.
"We restore the honour of the twelfth legion and fight for the honour of all legions. Saturn has succumbed once before, and tonight will mark his end once more. Our hands will put an end to the Titans' reign for eternity." She surveyed the legionnaires before her once more, before sucking in a deep breath and yelling their war cry. "Twelfth Legion Fulminata!"
The mantra was yelled throughout the mountain, despite no standard being carried. Jupiter would not aid them in this fight. They had no lightning bearer.
As swords battered shields the second cohort charged towards the doors. Jason twisted Julius in his hand. Nearly.
Ropes were thrown around the handle of the doors as lines of soldiers pulled them down. Children of Mars and Vulcan enforcing all their godly strength into the motion. They knew not, who was in castle. They knew only what.
Saturn's throne was the fount of his power. Destroying it would be nearly as clean a contribution as putting a dagger through his heart.
The doors groaned as the demigods and legacies of the war gods pulled forth. Vulcan and Mars working in unison. Any tensions, any history, forgotten; survival was the priority. Jason twisted Julius again.
The shield lay heavy in his hand. He wouldn't use it – it wasn't his style. The legion had strict battle orders. A shield was regulation, he couldn't discard it yet – but soon. In the disarray of battle the excuse would be accepted.
No matter how prepared the Romans were, how much preparation and strategy had gone into this siege, war is war, and war is unpredictable, and messy. Even the Romans would be forced to lose formation eventually. The priority was destroying the throne, even if the room was left a graveyard of purple-clad bodies and blood.
Their sacrifices would earn them a seat into the Elysian Plains. Heroes' paradise. A reward for hard-fought lives and heroic deaths. The underworld's population would be increasing today.
One final tug and the doors were brought down, the Romans began marching forwards. Shields up and swords pointed to the ground into the dark room, lit only by sheaths of Greek fire.
An erratic and dangerous substance, the last relic of Greek civilisation. They had died out whilst the Romans had survived, proving once and for all their superiority.
As he crossed the threshold into the Titans' home, Jason flipped Julius. It was time
"He's a child. This is a war camp."
"You can't be serious."
The wolf nudged her head into the back of the giggling boy, gently pushing him forwards before the two praetors.
"Lupa." The man – boy? – sounded frustrated. "What do you expect us to do with a two-year-old?"
"T-ree." Jason grinned toothily, holding up two fingers. "Or four." He lifted another finger, proudly displaying three pudgy digits. The praetors exchanged a look.
"A child this age wouldn't be threatened by monsters, especially considering the pact. He should be in the real world Lupa." The girl added.
The she-wolf barked. A clear noise of disagreement. She pushed forth Jason once more, the boy laughing as the wolf's nose pressed into his.
"Doggy." He turned around and threw his arms around the wolf's neck. Her amber eyes burned into the praetors who tried to hold back their laughter at the sight of the normally fierce wolf standing rigid in the embrace of a three (maybe four) year old.
"My fwend." He told the praetors as he patted her head. "You my fwends?" He cocked his head to the side in a similar way to a dog might do.
The praetors stood, silently communicating over what to do, as Lupa stood next to the young child of Jupiter.
The older boy knelt next to Jason, his eyes flickering one last time, imploring desperately towards an unwavering Lupa. Once the wolf had made a decision she would not backtrack. "The Romans-" He paused, taking in a deep breath. "We're your family now. I'm Cas. This is Julia."
"I'm Jay-son." The boy stuck out his pudgy hand towards the praetors. "Jay-son Grace."
"Welcome to the twelfth legion, Jason Grace."
"Jason!" Reyna ran to his side, the two now hid, crouched besides a column.
The two had reached the throne-room before anyone else. Most of the fighting was taking place in the atrium, but the two knew the primary responsibility was to take the throne-room.
Saturn, fortunately, had not been present when they opened the doors. The legion had instead been met by an army of Scythian dracanae. Reptilian monsters towering at seven foot tall. They, like serpents, had venomous fangs and scaly skin which was hard to penetrate with a gladius.
They were not the simplest of enemy, but individually weren't the worst adversities for the legionnaires, the issue was the sheer number of the dracanae. They outnumbered each demigod around five to one.
The reason Jason and Reyna were currently hiding behind a column, however, was not due to the dracanae.
In entering the throne-room they were met with the sight of two titans.
"You should take the sky, uncle." The man in the corner said, his voice strong despite his face fixed in a pained expression as he bore the weight of the heavens. "I am the better fighter, The General, you are The Ram. In times of war I outrank you."
"Atlas." Reyna whispered in Jason's ear.
"Know your place, nephew." 'The Ram' replied, a bored tone to his response, as if this conversation had been had before. "You don't outrank me in any time, and even if you did, my brother ordered you to hold the sky after your failure last year."
"My failure." Atlas hissed, as he adjusted the sky on his back. "I faced a goddess and the child of the prophecy – destined to decide the fate of the world – Jackson would have sliced you into pieces."
"Jackson?" Jason mouthed at Reyna confused. The praetor however had no answers, only a similar expression of uncertainty.
"You proclaim yourself one of the best fighters of our people. Yet you were defeated by a maiden goddess, a fourteen-year-old and your daughter."
"Do not mention my daughter's name in here!" He replied, his veins throbbing – though it was unclear whether this was a display of his emotion, or the effort being put into holding the sky.
"Still so easy to manipulate, nephew. You are rash, angry. Like my brother. Like my father before him and like your cousin."
"Don't compare me to that imposter." Atlas' spat as 'The Ram' paced around the room, finally moving into view of the hidden duo.
"Crius." The two whispered simultaneously. Saturn's brother, another son of Caelus – he had aided Saturn in overthrowing his father and had too been overthrown as the Golden Age came to a bloody end.
"There's no way around it." Jason whispered. "We only have to fight Crius, Atlas is occupied."
"Only?" Reyna replied, incredulous at Jason's tone. "He is still a Titan, Jason."
"There's no other way but to fight. We are Romans. With honour." He added, reminding Reyna of her own speech, before cautiously putting his hand on her own. "We'll be fine RARA." She glared at him but did not move her hand.
"Don't call me that." She replied, but the usual venom wasn't in her voice, she sounded, almost scared.
"I need a daughter of Bellona right now. Battle strategy and all."
"Battle strategy is Minerva's domain." Reyna reminded him.
"You're the praetor of the twelfth legion." Jason rebutted. "What shall we do?"
Reyna took a deep breath, her eyes imploring into Jason's own as she formulated a plan. "Here's what we do…"
"Hi. I'm Jason." Jason offered out his hand to the girl. She looked cagey, and wary; her eyes fixed distrustfully on his outstretched hand. "Right." Jason restrained himself from rolling his eyes as he withdrew his hand. "I don't know what they told you but just because I'm from the fifth doesn't mean I'm going to contaminate you with my weakness and ineptitude."
She raised her eyebrow. "A man wouldn't be able to make me weak." She replied. "You may be inept, but I am a daughter of Bellona, I'm a warrior. Nothing about me is weak."
Jason laughed and the girl's eyes narrowed. "I'm sure that's true."
"It is." She protested and Jason lifted his hands in surrender.
"I guess we'll just have to spar sometime, so you can prove it."
"This one's been at camp all of five hours and she's already trying to fight the son of Jupiter." Gwen laughed as she came over, having overheard the last parts of the conversation.
"Son of Jupiter?" She asked, her eyes widened at the new information.
"Yeah. Why? You scared?" Jason replied. "Going to chicken out?"
"I'm a Roman now and Roman's aren't cowards. I'll see you in the arena tomorrow, son of Jupiter."
As far as plans go, it was not the worst idea. Reyna and Jason were used to fighting with each other, they had been doing it from the first day.
They knew each other's style, how they moved. There was a poetry to their battles, an art to the way they fought together. To a mortal, with the mist distorting their views, it would likely look like a dance, a furious salsa, but a dance. Two partners working together.
That is what they were. Despite being from different cohorts, since that first day they had always made the time to fight with each other, each battle closer than the next, and with each battle a new winner.
Jason felt the air whirling around him, passing through his hand. He was a child of the King of the Gods. And with that role, that title came certain responsibilities, and certain powers.
His powers, unchecked, could cause devastating effects for the world. Tornadoes and storms even in California. That's where the responsibility part came in.
Ever since Jason had been claimed he'd been trained by the highest-ranking Roman officials, centurions, praetors, and veterans, all working together to make sure Jason didn't accidentally destroy Camp Jupiter in his sleep.
He had spent his whole life keeping his powers in check. Now he had to unleash them.
"Crius, son of Caelus." Jason yelled, using the air to lift him, elevating himself until he was at eye-level with the Titan. "I am Jason Grace, son of Jupiter, I challenge you to a fight."
"Roman." The Titan's cold blue eyes glared into his own. "You are but a child, yet you dare to challenge me. As foolish and rash as a Greek." He sneered.
"A Greek?" Jason laughed. "We destroyed the Greeks millennia ago, we left them in ruins whilst we prospered, whilst we expanded our empire and ruled the world. Even now we stand whist they suffer in the Plains of Asphodel."
The titan laughed. "You demigods, so naïve, so headstrong. You overestimate your own power, your own intelligence. You overestimate how much the gods value you, how much they trust you. Oh, you know nothing, boy." He spat.
"I know that today is the last day you walk on this earth. That is enough for me."
"You wish to fight son of Jupiter? So, fight, and die."
"You're optimistic in presuming your superiority. But even if you were right, I have something to fight for. I have my legion: it's my friends outside these walls, my friends fighting to defend our home, my cohort! When I was younger, I made a promise.
"I promised to restore honour to my cohort and to my legion. When I conquer you, my promise will be fulfilled, the fifth cohort will be respected once again, and you will be dead." He flipped Julius, the gold coin morphing into a seven-foot long metal lance. Its tip gleaming in the glow of the Greek fire. The son of Jupiter's face reflected in the metal.
"Jason Grace, unclaimed, Champion of Juno. You have now been at camp nearly five years and have reached the milestone of your eighth birthday." Cas looked down at him from the raised podium. The praetor was now nineteen and would be retiring before the month's end.
Julia's death had affected him gravely. There was always a special bond between two praetors, the shared responsibility led to a level of understanding that no one else shared.
The two had worked alongside each other for years, Julia having grown up in New Rome and Cas having arrived at Camp when he was eleven. They had been made praetor within a year of each other when they were fourteen and fifteen, respectively.
They had started dating when they were seventeen – their courtship a public affair in Rome.
Then she had died. Nobly, and with honour. But, nonetheless, she was dead.
Cas had decided to retire a week later, having announced it in senate, but staying in power until the elections at the end of June.
"It is time for you to be inducted into a cohort. Centurions, if you wish to have Jason Grace in your cohorts submit your requests now."
Max, centurion for cohort one stepped forth. "Cohort one would take Jason Grace." He nodded his head to Cassius before stepping back, following the usual protocol.
The centurion for cohort two echoed his approval, as the third and fourth followed soon after, then Mitch stepped forth. "Cohort five would be honoured to house Jason." He added, with a small wink in Jason's direction.
"Well Jason, every so often we have a rare occasion like this – though I can say it's not entirely unexpected in your circumstance – where you can choose any of the cohorts. You may step forward and tell us your choice now."
Jason was only eight, but it was clear he had the build of a fighter. At his first night in camp he had woken up with a golden coin beneath his pillow, and soon discovered it to be a weapon, moulded for him which grew as he did.
The next day he had been claimed by Juno as her champion, much to the shock of the Romans. Even if not for the surprise acknowledgment by Juno, Jason still would have been sought after by all the cohorts.
He was technically apt in fighting, already fluent in Latin, adept at archery and achieving success in duels and small games (he was not yet allowed to participate in the war games, much to his disappointment).
He seemed a jack of all trades, but unlike the end of that idiom, he was not a master of none.
Jason stepped forwards. He had been planning this day for nearly a year now, eagerly awaiting his opportunity to make an impact here at Camp Jupiter.
"I would like to thank everyone for offering me a place in their cohort." He nodded in the direction of each of the centurions. "I would like to accept the place offered by Centurion Mitch in the fifth cohort."
Whispers dissembled around the room. Never had someone who had been offered a place in the first legion – or any legion below the fifth – taken the position in the fifth cohort.
"To explain my decision, I am aware of the stigma behind the fifth cohort after the unfortunate incident in the 80s. I would like to do right by the Roman people, and by my new cohort, by restoring honour to this cohort." Jason recited, his speech having been preprepared with the help of his friends Gwen and Daniel.
Cas was unable to restrain the surprise within his voice. "Are you certain of this decision?" He asked. "You would be more likely to prosper in a different, more organised cohort."
"I am sure of my choice Praetor Cassius." Jason nodded and stepped back, heading towards Mitch as the room once more was filled by the sounds of surprised and confused legionnaires.
"Perhaps Atlas was right. You should have taken the sky and let him fight." Jason taunted, despite the sweat dripping down his forehead and the blood running down his arm.
"For once I'm in agreement with a demigod, uncle." A strained voice called. "Your fighting is woeful. I'd have decimated him in seconds."
"Like you decimated Jackson?" Crius replied, much to Jason's continued confusion. "Or your daughter? Artemis and her new lieutenant? Even the Chase girl you couldn't destroy."
Jason's brow furrowed further, why was he calling Diana by her Greek name?
"Jackson was a far worthier opponent than this." Atlas protested as Jason took advantage of Crius' distraction to try stabbing him, only for the Titan to angrily deflect him.
"This is a child of Jupiter, the most powerful of their gods, are you indicating that Poseidon's child is any match for him?"
"Yes. Besides, Jackson is the child of the prophecy. Even Kronos recognises him as a bigger threat over Grace otherwise Kronos would be here." The continued reference to the Greek pantheon bewildered Jason, but he had to ignore it and focus on the battle, even if his opponent was distracted in a family squabble.
"Reyna hurry the Neptune up." Jason muttered under his breath, as flew towards Crius' head, lunging left before veering right and managing to stab into his shoulder. The small victory had a consequence however, as Jason was swatted out of the sky like a fly by the angered Titan and sent sprawling into the throne.
"Ow." Jason groaned, reaching his hand up to his head tenderly. His fingers drew back with blood, and his vision went blurry momentarily.
"Crius!" Reyna called just as the titan started moving towards Jason's body. "I am Bellona's daughter. Far more of a match against you than him." She gestured towards Jason, subtly winking at him, though the (unusual) jovial act was too mixed in with sheer panic to comfort Jason remotely. "The plan." She mouthed and Jason nodded.
"You are but a child of a minor god whom I do not even know. You expect to be a match for me?"
"Yes." She replied.
The titan laughed. "You are amusing, stubborn child. For this reason only, I shall give you my time and oblige you with a fight."
"You know we could meet up without fighting sometime?" Jason asked in between sips of water. The two were sitting down by the river Tiber after a particularly strenuous fight.
"Right. And do what?" Reyna asked sceptically.
"New Rome's a nice city. There's a bakery I really like – they have the best brownies."
"I've never actually had a brownie before." Reyna frowned almost imperceptibly.
"Wait what?" Jason sounded almost offended.
"They're not exactly common piece deserts in Puerto Rico."
"Right… If you did not eat brownies, then what did you eat."
"Other deserts Grace, obviously."
"Like?" He prompted.
"Pues, arroz con dulce. It's a rice pudding sort of thing, I also-"
"I don't like rice pudding." Jason interrupted.
Reyna rolled her eyes. "Well you've never had it made right then." She countered and Jason smirked. "I think you'd like Picarones. They're not strictly speaking from Puerto Rico, but my grandma used to make them when I was little."
"Picarones." Jason rolled the word off his tongue approvingly. "No idea how it tastes but I like the way it sounds." Reyna laughed. "Now, let's get us some brownies, because there is no way in good conscience, I can let you live another minute without having tasted one."
"As if it's a bad thing that I haven't eaten more sugar."
"We did just work out, quite extensively. I think we deserve some sugar." Jason grinned as Reyna suppressed a smile of her own.
"So, brownies are America's key cultural desert then?" She asked as they began walking towards the city.
"Um," Jason paused. "I'm not actually sure if they are American to be honest."
"If brownies aren't American, what is?"
"I… I have no idea."
"Deep-fried mars bars?" Reyna teased and Jason snorted.
"Those can't be America's desert. I've never even had one."
Reyna stopped abruptly and turned to face Jason. "You've never had your country's desert?" She asked, an infectious smile playing at her lips. "You're a disgrace to all Americans, Grace."
Jason raised an eyebrow. "A disgrace? Did Reyna Avila Ramírez-Arellano just say a pun?"
"No." She denied, and Jason lifted his eyebrows even higher on his face, to the point where he looked like a cartoon character. "Well, not intentionally."
"Mhmm. Sure." Jason joked.
"Shut it Grace."
"Jason say something." Reyna called from across the room. "Please, say something, anything…" Her voice was anguished with desperation, and strain; the battle with Crius was by no means an easy affair.
"Your friend isn't responding. He's likely dead by now. Do not despair, you will soon be joining him."
"Unlikely." Reyna replied, a smirk growing on her face.
"Very unlikely."
The titan whipped around. "You tried to trick me,"
"It seems like you and your nephew are more similar than you thought." Jason replied. "All your squabbling gave us the idea."
"I sincerely doubt you meant to get thrown into my brother's seat of power."
"No, but I did expect at some point to be hurt. I have an odd tendency to hit my head on things."
"Normally the back of my sword." Reyna interjected.
"Your ploy has not been successful. There are still but two of you, and two demigods are no match for Crius, Titan of the South."
"Our ploy is only a failure if you are unaware of its intentions." Jason explained with a small smile growing on his face. It was bittersweet, however. Something in it tinged of regret, of time wasted and… fear. "Are you not going to try and kill me now? – if it is as easy as you say that is."
Jason Grace hovered above Saturn's throne, his lance held firm in his grip, a stern expression on his face, his glasses cracked, and battered, but working enough to let him still see his opponent lumbering towards him.
"Come on then," he taunted, "get on with it already."
"As you wish, son of Jupiter."
The titan lunged at Jason, who swerved downwards, escaping Crius' fist. "Too slow." Jason taunted. It wasn't his usual tactic in battle, but in this particular instance, attacking the titan's ego, making him angry… well that was his only chance of winning.
Jason dodged another attack, slowly manoeuvring himself into the right position. "Not quite." He gasped out as he escaped the slash of Crius' sword.
The titan punched out once more, as Jason fell to the base of the throne, acting as if he was hit whilst deploying his powers to make sure he didn't nearly sit in Saturn's throne – he wasn't particularly keen on being incinerated by his grandfather.
"Got you." The titan yelled, before smashing his fist on Jason. He could hear Reyna's scared gasp from across the room, echoing in the chamber. The fighting still raged on outside; sounds of swords clashing, dracanae hissing and demigods shouting. All he focussed on was Reyna. She sounded scared.
The fist thrust into the throne, cracking the obsidian as Jason veered out of the way.
"Missed me?" He smiled at Reyna even as he addressed the titan. The smile etched onto her face… the normally inexpressive girl displayed a kaleidoscope of emotions in her eyes, a thousand emotions exposed in her smile: hope, joy, relief, lov- friendship.
"You fool." The titan roared. "Do you know what you have just done?"
"I believe he tricked you." Reyna replied, a proud smirk on her face.
"I will kill you for your insolence. Both of you." He twirled his sword in his hand before rushing forwards towards the demigods.
"Arrow?" Jason whispered.
"Arrow." Reyna confirmed, and the two split up, running in opposite directions.
"You are only delaying the inevitable, demigods."
"Yes. The inevitable: your death." Reyna rebutted and Jason had to stop himself from laughing.
The two reached back in the middle, once more standing with the throne as their backdrop. "Ready?" Jason asked as the titan neared them.
"Ready." Reyna replied.
Just as the titan reached out to grab them Jason zoomed up in the air, as Reyna slid through the titan's legs, leaving Crius to stumble forwards. Jason quickly got his lance and plunged it into the titan's neck, burying it into the nape.
It was the least protected part of the titan's body; there was no armour on it, nor was it as muscular as other areas. The lance pierced through the neck, and the titan stumbled forwards. Crius tried to turn around, his body twisting even as he continued to lose balance, facing Jason for one last word.
"Jupiter doesn't even care for you, yet you fight for him. Why?" The titan clasped at his neck, shaking in pain as he coughed golden ichor out of his mouth whilst Reyna stabbed him in the foot. The titan fell onto the throne, which shuddered, already weakened from the earlier blow. Atlas yelled something, but Jason ignored him, he was not a threat.
"I don't fight for my father. I fight for my family. I fight for the Roman legion." He looked over at Reyna. He fought for her.
The titan disintegrated; Saturn incinerating him for sitting on his throne before seeing who it was. It did not matter. The titan would have died either way.
Jason's lance fell to the throne as he flew to pick it up. Shifting it in his hand he turned it into a sword, before plunging it into the already cracked throne, which split under the force.
He turned to Reyna. "Our job is complete. Othrys has fallen."
"I think I'm going to have to kill you for this Grace."
"That's a little bit over-dramatic." Jason laughed.
"These are so good." Reyna moaned into her brownie. "Now I'm going to get too fat for my chiton. I will be the laughingstock of all of Rome. I must defend my honour by destroying you." She threatened, taking another bite of her brownie.
Jason hadn't even touched his own, too enraptured by Reyna's reaction to the sugary goodness that Jacob – the owner of New Rome's finest bakery – made.
"Wait." Reyna called, stopping abruptly in the street.
"What?"
"We have to go back." She insisted seriously.
"Why? Did he give you the wrong amount of change?"
Reyna shook her head. "I need another one." She admitted sheepishly.
Jason laughed. "Here, you can have mine." He offered her the bag.
"Are you sure? I thought these were your most favourite things in the entire world." Jason looked at Reyna. Her eyes betrayed her desire to take his offer.
"No." He paused, a little too long, his eyes fixed on Reyna's. He had never noticed how pretty they were before. They had always seemed angry and fierce before, gleaming as they sparred, but now they were calm and soft, warm even.
"They're not your favourite things in the entire world or you're not sure?" Reyna's brow furrowed.
"No." Jason replied, before he shook his head, realising that was not a coherent answer. "I mean, no, neither, um, yes. You can have the brownie. I'm sure. I've actually, um, I've got to go, I forgot we had a cohort meeting now, but uh, I'll see you tomorrow." Jason raced off before Reyna could even answer, leaving the girl standing alone in the street, a bagged brownie in her hand.
He didn't look back even as she called after him – a confused agreement to meet up with him tomorrow – he kept his eyes fixated forwards, he didn't turn back, he couldn't.
Otherwise she would see how red his face was – and if it was anything close to how hot it felt, it would be as red as Phoebus' cows. How the hell had this happened? She was supposed to be his friend.
"Hey." Jason exhaled, a relieved smile growing on his face. "We did it."
"You did it." Reyna corrected.
"We." Jason protested. "It was your plan, and you helped."
Reyna rolled her eyes. Jason was too humble for even this. "I'm glad you're okay." She added. When Crius had first gone to squash Jason… for a second there…
"Me too," Jason grinned. He reached for her hand. "next time can we have a plan that doesn't involve me nearly getting killed."
She rubbed her thumb against his palm. "Maybe." Jason laughed, which to Reyna sounded like music in her ears. He should laugh more – maybe if he stopped putting so much pressure on himself...
"Reyna," Jason looked at her, his hand tightening around hers. "There's something I want to tell you. I should have told you ages ago, and I don't know… I guess I was just scared…" His eyes implored into hers, begging her to just realise what he was saying instead of making him spell the words out.
"We fought a titan today Jay, I don't think you need to be scared of anything." The nickname slipped so easily off her tongue he didn't think she even realised she used it. She normally used his proper name out of mock formality. It sounded nice.
"Exactly." He leaned forwards slightly, using his hand to prop his back up against the wall and slowly bringing her hand towards him. Her lips parted in surprise, some sort of realization flashing beneath her eyes. The gap between them closed; neither knew who was moving – neither knew it was both.
"Reyna! Jason! Thank the gods." Michael Kahale ran in and the two scooted apart. "Holy shit." His voice seemed to escape him as he stared at the scene behind where they were sitting.
Michael was covered in blood, his armour hanging on by a string. Reyna leapt to her feet. "How's everyone? What is the casualty list looking like? We need to get our wounded back to camp now." She ordered, immediately resuming her responsibilities, and rushing out of the room.
Jason was left with Michael staring gobsmacked at the titan which lay beneath them.
"You… That's your sword… You...?"
"Crius is dead. And the throne is destroyed. Reyna and I made sure of it." Jason replied, gingerly getting to his feet, and beginning his climb towards his sword.
He ripped it out of the titan with a flourish of golden ichor and wiped off the blood onto his robes; they were already ruined anyway.
"You killed a titan?" Michael finally managed to say. "Just you…?"
"Reyna and I." Jason corrected once more. "How's my cohort?"
The veterans and the fourth cohort had held strong. New Rome had not been invaded and Camp Jupiter, whilst battered and bruised, was intact.
Reyna moved to the front of the pact as each cohort assembled before her. There were notable gaps in the ranks… too many gaps.
"Legionnaires. Tonight, we are victorious. Tonight, Saturn has been conquered and Olympus has been preserved. Each of you have played an immense role in this war. Too many of us have been lost. Friends, siblings. Family.
"Do not despair. For whilst we feast here tonight, they feast beneath us in the Plains of Elysian, honoured by Pluto as the finest heroes of our age. They were true Romans, who fought, fearless and strong, who fought with honour above all, and who died with honour.
"Their sacrifice will never be forgotten. Not by us, not by the future generations, and not by the gods."
At that moment, as if Jupiter himself had been watching, a bolt of lightning lit up the purple sky behind Reyna and Jason heard gasps, as the tired legionnaires turned to stare at him.
He stood tall, hiding his perplexment whilst seeking Reyna's eyes to reassure him. However, he found them, not staring into his own, but focussed above his head. A bolt of lightning hovered in the air, as electricity coursed through Jason's entire body.
Raising his hand small bolts danced through his fingers, as he launched them into the sky. "Jupiter shows his gratitude today. My father understands the sacrifice good men gave for his life, and for the life of our gods. He blessed the twelfth legion once before, and through me he blesses it once more.
"We were once known as Fulminata. The bearers of lightning. Michael Varus and the fifth cohort lost our standard decades ago, and so my father sent me to restore honour to the fifth cohort and to the entire twelfth legion. We have no need of a standard,"
Jason raised his hand to the sky and brought down a bolt of lightning. "I am the bearer of lightning. The conqueror of Crius. The destroyer of Saturn's throne." Jason yelled, the power coursing through his body like never before as his father's blessing shone above him. He had been claimed.
"I motion to promote Jason Grace, centurion of the fifth cohort to position of Praetor." Michael Kahale's voice boomed around the field, whispers died out as his words echoed around.
"I second." Gwen added before the entire legion started to yell their various noises of agreement.
"Legionnaires." Reyna yelled, her voice drowning out all others as the sea of Romans hushed before their leader. "I heard no single person complain of this appointment. If anyone opposes this move speak now." Her voice sounded threatening, as she glared at Octavian who stood, cowered in the corner, a piece of teddy-bear entrails sitting on his shoulder.
The fields were completely silent, only the sounds of the wind whistling, and the electricity between Jason's fingers crackling, washed around.
"With a clear majority, I accept the movement of Jason Grace to Praetor of the Roman legion. Congratulations Praetor Grace." Her eyes fixed on his and as the fields buzzed, as people chanted Jason's name and lifted him up onto their shields, parading him around, all he saw was her.
Her approval. Her pride. Her love?
There was an age-old expectation for praetors; it was almost inevitable that they would find each other. That if they lived long enough, they would love just as long.
Reyna and Jason were no different – or at least, he hoped they wouldn't be.
"Praetor Ravi… Ramirez-A…" The boy looked flustered.
"Reyna will do, Probatio Zhang." Reyna relieved him in a fleeting moment of sympathy.
"Then you can call me Frank."
"Well Frank, what can I do for you?"
"I was just wondering… I've been hearing a lot of rumours," he paused, "about a guy named Jason Grace?" He added tentatively as though he was trying to make sure Reyna was okay with this topic. If her head didn't immediately fill with memories of Jason smiling, then she'd have probably found it sweet.
"I was just wondering who he was?" Frank asked after Reyna nodded in encouragement.
"Jason… Jason was my co-praetor." Reyna swallowed. "He was my friend." She added, hating how the lump in her throat grew, hating how emotionally attached she felt to the son of Jupiter (even though she had sworn that she didn't come to Camp Jupiter to make friends… However, what she hated the most was how short that word sounded. 'Friend'. It just didn't sound right.