Reyna refused to show any sign of weakness. People were still hesitant to follow her after Octavian accused her of patricide, which was, of course, disproved, so any sign of weakness meant she could be challenged for the praetorship. Frank was a good partner, a natural leader, and she was sure he would do a good job of leading the camp while she was helping Apollo on his quest.
She ignored people as she, Frank, Apollo, and Hazel brought Jason's coffin to Temple Hill. Behind them followed the young Meg, who Reyna couldn't help feeling sorry for witnessing something like Jason's death, but Frank and Hazel were right. Jason died a hero, and Reyna, while she was upset at losing someone she trusted, could understand why he did it.
She just spoken to him last week, when he came to pick up some polish for his weapon.
"Hey, Rey, how's it going?" He flashed her an easy smile as he sorted through containers in the armory.
SHe waved a hand. "You know how it is, overseeing a bunch of trained soldiers, attending Senate meetings, the usual."
It was easy to fall back into their old rhythm, joking about their roles and sharing the responsibility of leading so many of their peers.
He laughed and inspected two identical jars of grease. "You hate Senate meetings."
"Don't remind me—I have to go to one in a few hours. Something about finding a replacement for Octavian." She set her spare breastplate on the table, hoping one of the children of Vulcan could hammer the dents out.
"What did you do to the breastplate, Rey?" Jason put a jar down on the table.
She shrugged. "War Games."
"Who won?"
"The Fifth. They've been on a winning streak since Jackson won for them." Reyna picked up a dagger.
Jason nodded. "That's good. But what were you doing on the field, Reyna? You only ever referee."
She sighed. "You've always been able to see right through me."
They had arrived at Temple Hill, and together, they set down Jason's coffin in the temple of Pluto. Hazel began to cry, her emotions rattling the gems lining her father's temple. Reyna still refused to cry in front of other people, instead giving her former co-praetor a salute turning sharply, hurrying to her mother's shrine. The squat brick walls surrounding a fresh patch of grass called to her and she sank down in the center of it all.
Here, she let the tears falls, in the privacy of her mother's sacred place.
"Mother," she called through her tears, "help me be strong for my people."
Unexpectedly, arms wrapped around her, lifting her off the ground and bringing her face to face with a woman in armor. Her jet black hair hung in a braid ending at her hips, and she wore the helmet of a general.
"You are strong, daughter," she said, "and you will be strong for your people."
"I won't be strong, Mother," Reyna cried.
"How can I be strong when the strongest person I've ever known is dead?"
Oh, um, wow.
Thank you to the two reviewers, I'm glad I was able to ease your mind about Jason's death. These little flash fics help me deal with it, so I'm happy they've helped you.
-The Duchess