Hey all. I have a Patr eon now! Jay9x is the name, unposted content is the game. If you want a sneak peak at works I have either not posted yet, will not post, or just side projects of mine, take a look! I'll be posting some free content soon, but most of what I have posted is paid content. So far I have posted a character idea for League, an excerpt of an opening to a novel series I have had in my head for years now, the first chapter of a novel I have in the works, a short story that I am planning on getting published, and a Percy Jackson x GTO Xover I have almost abandoned the idea of posting.

Any support is greatly appreciated. I have kept it all at 3 a month, and I will post a decent amount of unpaid content. Thanks for your support over the years.

Now, enjoy the heartache.

"Pardon me, Ms. Ahri, might I inquire where Yasuo's companion is?"

Ahri looked up from where she sat curled up on the bed, her tails swishing around, as she stared out of her bleary eyes, finding Yone's form in the doorway. She did not want to deal with anyone else right now. All Ahri wanted to do right now was lay down in this bed, fall asleep, and not deal with everyone's overwhelming emotions bombarding her every waking moment. Not too much to ask, surely.

She mumbled something into her pillow before turning away from him. Yone frowned, "I am sorry for interrupting your rest, ma'am, but I was hoping to ask that man some important questions." Her body tensed under the sheets, her fur standing on end. "Do you still know where he is? This is very urgent, and I must leave soo-."

She knew it was coming, but she couldn't stop it. Wouldn't stop it. She had had enough of trying to placate everyone else—go along with their requests, favors, and feelings. And it just lands her in the same spot she always finds herself hating. Alone, hurt, and vulnerable all over again. The rage built up in her stomach. A fiery pit of raw, unfiltered hurt. All the events poured through her mind as she let it erupt.

"I don't know!" She screamed, her upper body rocketing off the sheets as her tails swished violently. Her eyes, bright and golden, met his uncaring ones from across the room, "I don't know where the fuck Percy is. I don't know how he is doing. And I don't KNOW HIM."

Her voice shook the rickety floorboards as her chest heaved, tears pricked at the corner of her eyes as she covered them with her palms. Her shoulders shook with each laboring breath—hitching and stuttering through each inhale, as she unraveled at the seams. "Just go away, asshole. Find him yourself."

She sat there in silence—merely broken by her sobbing—as she recalled Percy's feeings washing over her like a summer flood. His pain and sadness threatened to sweep her away in the deluge of emotion that he had been experiencing. She hated feeling like this—at the mercy of others' emotions. She curled back up under the silk sheets, attempting to lose herself in the softness.

He had killed his wife, his child, and probably thousands of others. Why would he do such a thing? Did he mean to? Was it a mistake? None of the past few hours matched up with what glimpses of his life she'd caught in their first meeting. Was she being naive? She buried her face into the pillow again. Yone went on ignored.

Yone stood there like a statue, eyes narrowed at her form, before he shook his head and departed from the room. He wouldn't find any answers here.

"Was that the first time you talked to a human since…then?" His brother asked him when he quietly closed the door. Yasuo stood leaning up against the opposite wall, head tipped down and eyes staring a hole into the floor as he kept watch. It had been touch and go for a bit in the forest, and they didn't know if the Azakana was alone. Yone decided to wait until dawn to find this "Percy".

"…Not exactly."

"I thought you were supposed to be the one who could talk to anyone."

"And I thought you were supposed to be the irresponsible, reckless, belligerent, self serving idiot little brother, but I guess we've both grown." His words were barbs dipped in honey—he hadn't forgotten his death and he wasn't about to let Yasuo forget it yet either—and they hurt Yasuo just as much as he expected them to.

The air was uncomfortably tense as the two brothers tried to find either a way out of the conversation, or some common ground to begin it. Either option would do.

"Your…friend. He is different, brother."

Yasuo raised an eyebrow, "And? So are you, Yone. You're a, what, half-Azakana now? Assimilated? Possessed?"

"I forced the Azakana into submission with my will. It is dead and gone in all ways that matter." Yone turned away from Yasuo and began to walk down the hall towards his room. Yasuo trailed slowly behind him. They could hear the cheers of partygoers and the cacophony of fireworks going off. The air felt alive with the power of festivity and the land's spirits sung with joy. When Yasuo passed by one of the windows, he saw the beautiful colors explode across the horizon, bathing the world in a collage of reds and greens and blues.

A few kids ran past the building screaming, protective talismans around their necks and runic wrappings around their arms as they ran off into the city square. Just like him and Yone.

"He isn't a good person, Yasuo. I hope you realize that." Yasuo shakes his head. Memories of his childhood brushed away, he catches back up to Yone.

"He is more complex than that, brother. I have seen him for who he is."

"Have you?" Yone's words stop him cold, "or have you merely seen what he wanted you to see?" Yasuo grits his teeth in annoyance. He always hated when Yone was right as a child, and it seems he still hated it. He's trying to improve here!

"I trust that he will do the right thing—and that his story will be shared in full when he is ready. I have faith in that, brother."

Silence fell between them. It was weird to see how quickly their conversations collapsed at the foundations now. Before the war, they could talk for hours on end, and then fight for the rest of them. Now, it seemed they couldn't get past the third question without choking.

"Why…why did you refuse to believe me, Yone. Why did you not have faith in me? Did you really think I would kill Master Souma?"

Yone abruptly stopped in the middle of the hallway, and Yasuo realized they had already reached their rooms. He eyes the door across the hall from the one Yone is standing in front of. His room.

"I had thought, when you had first come back after leaving your post, that you would understand that it was your actions that killed Master Souma, not you yourself. I was wrong, and I paid for that mistake with the lives of dozens of misled initiates and even my own. I will never forget... that my greatest failure was you."

The door shut softly behind him and the candle that lit the hallway was snuffed out by a cold breeze, leaving Yasuo alone in the cold corridor—left to pick up whatever pieces were left of the brotherly connection that lay between the two doors.

—

When morning had come, and the residents began to wake for their daily lives, Ahri noticed that Percy was still missing from the inn. She had looked around—both spiritually and physically—and found no trace of his presence. Even worse, she couldn't feel his minor presence right at the forest's edge, anymore. That had concerned both Yasuo and Ahri.

As the two walked down the street back towards the forest, they were soon accosted by a young gentleman shoving a paper into their hands. When they had finally managed to get away from him, they took a look at the paper. Ahri's eyes lit up as Yasuo's frown deepened.

At the top of the paper, in giant bold letters, it read: Ionia's Caped Criminal "The Golden Demon" Khada Jhin Arrested!

Below it, in just slightly smaller font, was Percy, Shen, and Zed's names: apparently the Golden Demon had stumbled upon Percy in his escape. Ahri shuddered, knowing that when she had left him, there had been so much rage and sorrow beneath the surface. She wouldn't wish his rage upon anyone.

"That bastard." Yasuo grumbled. His head began to ache at the words, so he walked off in search of a bar. It was never too early for a good drink.

Ahri put the paper down on a stool nearby, and sat herself down at a table. She shook her head when the waiter came over to take her order, and merely stared off at the horizon.

What am I doing here? She asks herself despondently, anxiety welling up within her. You're supposed to be staying away from these people, Ahri, not staying the night in inns and fighting off spirits with them. You're better than this.

She was only supposed to be looking for Ymelo the sculptor. One of her ancestors that had been revealed to her in her trip to the gardens. She shook her head, wanting to forget how close she had come to willingly handing over all her memories. That wasn't the way to handle her feelings—that was betraying everything the one who cared for her believed in.

"I hope this seat isn't taken," a rough voice sounded from behind her, one that made a shiver go up her spine. The deep baritone that threatened to shake her teeth and had caused so many of her recent issues.

"Maybe it is, I wouldn't know," she replied blithely, a mean smile on her face as she refused to look at him. She felt more than saw him wince, and her smile faltered. Heavens above, she was being such a bitch. She blames Yone for interrupting her sleep.

"Sorry, Yasuo's shithead brother kept bothering me all night."

Percy exhaled in amusement, "Yeah. I certainly can't see how they are related. Polar opposites, if you ask me."

"Was it like that with your sister?" She asked curiously, remembering the memories she was exposed to yesterday.

"My…what?" Ahri blinked at his confusion. She had felt their connection, right? She wasn't hallucinating?

"I felt that there was more beyond the relationship between you and the black haired girl…and y'all look relatively similar."

"Oh…" his face darkened momentarily, but before she could wave off the inquiry, it lightened a bit, "I mean, I guess Thals is technically my cousin?"

"How can someone technically be related to you?" Ahri's brow furrowed.

"I'm a half-god, Ahri. Half of my DNA doesn't technically exist. So she is really just a friend to me in the grand scheme of things."

"DNA?"

Percy groaned, "it's your genetic makeup. Stands for some stupidly long word that I can never remember."

"Then what's the point of the word?"

"It is an important word! We just shortened it for convenience!"

"Then it couldn't have been that important if you shortened it? Why shorten it? Why not just make it short in the first place?"

"I don't know, it just is!"

"Your humans are weird…" Ahri trailed off.

This time Percy blinked and a slight chuckle escaped him against his will, breathless and confused, "I guess you're right. We are pretty weird, now that I think about it."

The conversation died rapidly, and the air felt tense yet again. Ahri knew that they would have to have the conversation eventually, but neither party seemed to want to start it.

How do you even start such a discussion anyways? Oh hey, Percy! I know the evil demon said you killed your family and all that nonsense, was all of that true? Why would you do such a thing?

"My wife, Annabeth, had already been dead for two days when Thals kissed me goodbye."

Ahri's eyes locked onto his, surprised at his willingness to start the conversation, before nodding slowly.

"And you…killed her?" She asked, instinctively edging away from the table a bit.

"I wasn't in control of my actions, but it was my hand that killed her."

"Is that why you have such a hatred for magic?"

He huffed, "That and more." He trailed off for a bit, staring at the horizon, "Thalia loved me…ever since she woke up under her tree—don't ask—but I had never known. Apparently, she joined the Hunt because of my crush on Annabeth. That kiss…"

Percy's heart ached at the idea of his best friend in so much emotional turmoil, for so many years, because of his denseness. Had Annabeth known? She probably did, maybe that is why she was always asking him about how Thalia was doing before they got together.

"The creator of my universe, or at least one of them—the one I killed—cast an ancient spell on me. Something similar to what was cast upon my half-cousin, Heracles, by his step-mother. It forced me into madness, and all I saw was the faces of enemies long gone. Kronos, Gaia, Tartarus, Krios. All of them."

"And you saw them instead of your family." She finished for him, "but you're so powerful…" her voice trailed off, the question lingering.

"I was arrogant. I had thought them beaten. They had lured me into a rune, and I paid the ultimate price for my arrogance." Percy leaned back in his chair, kicking his feet up onto the table, ignoring the looks of disgust from the other patrons in the little bar. A few of them attempted to motion him out of the establishment, and he shut them down with a single glare. Their legs buckled and they stumbled back into their seats.

"It's been…centuries since I've talked about this. The last time…didn't go well. If that's what this time will bring too, I'm just going to leave and do my own thing."

Ahri stared at him, all sense of happiness and joy erased from the hardened face. Just harsh lines and dead eyes. It was breathtaking. In a weird, morbid way.

She was reminded of a statue from her icefox family's ancestral home back in Shon Xan all those centuries ago. It had sat in the center of the ballroom, head and face mostly shaded by a cloak, but the harsh scowl that was etched into the rugged face had stuck with her forever. The scars and cuts along his body, along with that permanent scowl on his face, always reminded her of a beast on the prowl.

He had been called a Protector. Some type of ancient being that had wandered the lands long before her and the Vastaya were around, long before the mortals too. Really ancient. He was why Ionia was so protected by magic, her family had told her.

Percy reminded her so much of a Protector. Someone who did what they did because it was the right thing to do. He was so steadfast in his beliefs and values, and it was really hard to ignore his commanding presence. She could see why he had led armies before.

"I…killed the only person I ever loved out of pure hunger. I loved him so much…and I killed him. He had never shown that he was scared of me. He'd draw paintings of me during the evenings when I would come back from feeding in the villages, telling me how beautiful and perfect I was. The idiot even offered me his own essence in exchange for my love." She struggled to wipe the tears from her eyes with the back of her hands, "I woke up one night to find him bleeding out in my arms, his blood and memories in my mouth and head. He…he was smiling, as if I had given him the greatest gift of all." She choked on the air, her shoulders shaking. She was blubbering and crying all over the table now, and people were starting to stare at her. She thought she had gotten past this phase of the hurt.

Percy removed his feet from the table, and stood up. He corralled Ahri from her chair, glaring at the other patrons, and helped her out of the establishment. With a few hiccuped directions from Ahri, he finally led them to the inn she had slept in.

"Do you…want company? Or do you want to be alone?" He asked hesitantly, as she sat down on her bed. His eyes widened and he began to ramble, "I mean, not in that way! I meant more like just I'll sit on the floor or the chair and just be here and I'll just be quiet and you can like sleep. But I wouldn't watch you or anything I'd just—and it's not like I'd sleep in the bed with you or anything like that. I'm just going to stop talking." He shut up before he could dig himself any further.

Ahri giggled, the sound coming out watery and snotty, as she wiped away the last few tears. "Just take a seat, dummy."

He nodded wordlessly, and made a beeline for the chair, before he was interrupted halfway there, "No, come over here."

He froze, "I-Are you sure?" She rolled her eyes. Men.

"We aren't sleeping tonight. I don't know if I can even sleep after what we talked about today, and I need to take care of my hair, and you definitely need to have yours cared for, so I'll be braiding your hair today too. It's starting to tangle, if you hadn't noticed."

He felt up at his long locks—wow it had really grown out in the past few weeks—and his nose scrunched at the feeling of the crispy hair. He'd never had braids before. "Maybe I should wash it first." He muttered.

Ahri pulled out a bucket from the bathroom, and she began to fill it up with water from a lever on the wall. Filling it about halfway, she turned off the lever and handed him the bucket along with a few petals of some type of flower. She ground a few of them into powder before pouring it into the bucket.

"Thanks, what were those?"

"Flowers from the Omikayalan Grove. Sapphire Roses. They smell divine and they react with the Ki within you."

"The what Grove?"

"The Omikayalan Grove. It's a sacred grove to the west, in Navori. I went there to find solace with my memories, but I decided to turn back in the end."

Percy hummed, content with mixing the water up so that the powder spread out evenly. It had been awhile since he had washed with such old-fashioned sources, but he managed. When he had finally finished, the water had started to sizzle and mist.

Ahri took the bucket from him and gestured him over to the wooden seat in the center of the room. He edged off his upper robes, glad to get out of the suffocating white silk and let his skin breathe, and sat facing away from Ahri. Steam began to spread throughout the room.

"It's going to sizzle a bit, just a warning." She told him, taking a rag and dipping it in the water. After soaking it thoroughly, she put it to the back of his neck. Percy inhaled sharply, not expecting his skin to react so aggressively. It felt like his blood was boiling under where the rag touched him. His skin sang and danced with the mist that started to pool off his shoulders.

"These leaves are…interesting." He groaned as Ahri began to dig into his shoulders and neckline. He felt her nails begin to pull random bits of the forest out of his hair. A small stick here, a leaf there. Her nails threaded through his locks, slowly pulling apart the tangled mess. His eyes closed and he hummed, drifting off to the sound of her nails scraping his scalp. He hadn't even realized she had finished washing his hair until she began to rinse it.

"Thank you," he said softly, as she finally began to rinse his hair, feeling more alive than he had in a while. The tension in his shoulders bled out as she slowly dried his hair with another rag. She didn't reply to him, just making a noncommittal hum. She probably didn't mean to–he wouldn't have realized it if his family hadn't been on his mind the whole week–but that noise reminded him of an old memory. He tried to fight the tears that began to sting the corners of his eyes, but they inevitably fell.

"Can you see what I'm thinking right now?" He asked her, voice hoarse and shaky. She tilted her head, eyes flickering to that lovely shade of purple, before they widened. Her breath hitched for a scant second.

"Your mother is beautiful," she said softly, watching the memory of a teenage Percy having his hair washed by his mom, him swatting at her with his uninjured hand the whole time in frustration. She would hum to him as she washed his hair for him, her nails digging into his scalp whenever he would move too much.

"She meant the world to me."

The silence resumed as she began to braid his hair. The locks overlapped and intertwined quickly as her deft fingers got to work. When she had finished—a process that took another ten or so minutes—he looked and felt much better.

He turned around, slipping on one of the loose bathrobes that was hanging on a hook by the door, and saw Ahri staring at him. The muggy air had him lightly sweating, and a sheen had started to cover his chest and face. Ahri's hair had begun to frizz up from the steam, and her puffy eyes looked so open and full.

Ahri's eyes flickered to his chest, then his lips, then back to his eyes. He felt his heart skip a beat at her gaze. So many emotions hidden within those golden eyes. She stepped closer to him—hesitantly and cautiously—and placed a gentle hand on the large blade-shaped scar across his chest. A reminder of his fight with Krios. A sword to the chest.

Their eyes didn't separate, and the air got hotter between them. Her lashes fluttered momentarily as her nostrils flared. Heat rose in his neck as he realized she could smell him. Her hands peeled at the mask around his face, slowly removing the parts she could, listening to the hissing sounds of pressure being released. The mask fell, and her hand swept across the burnt skin like a ghost, the touch barely felt by Percy. It felt scratchy; splotchy to the touch, like she was rubbing her hands along the skin of a Kiwa. His eyes fell away from hers, as he tried to turn away from her touch.

She gripped his chin and pulled it back towards her. "Your scars are not a sign of weakness, but of strength. I will not allow you to hide them, not from me."

He felt a rush of emotions build within his chest, bursting forth as his gaze softened. His hand found her cheek, rough and calloused skin rubbing the whisker marks on her face. His eyes flickered to her ears, watching them twitch and fluff at his ministrations, and couldn't help but slide his hand up to rub one of them.

Ahri tensed, her face exploding in crimson, and he, despite wanting to continue touching the fluffy and fuzzy ears, stopped and moved back a step. "Sorry, I just…I've never seen your kind before. No other universes have your species on it and I was just mesmerized."

"They…" she took a deep breath, trying to fight back the redness that had blossomed on her face, "They are…sensitive. Usually only loved ones touch them," She whispered lamely, her ears drooping down in embarrassment. She turned away slightly, folding in on herself in her mortification.

"O-oh. I'm sorry." He stuttered, his cheeks also flaming red at this point. Awkward silence sat in the air, as the two tried to calm their racing hearts. Percy, suddenly and fully, felt the guilt of what had almost happened crash down on him. But he would not deny himself happiness, not anymore. He had spent centuries alone now—holding out hope that somewhere in another universe, Annabeth or Thalia were alive and happy and waiting for him. They hadn't been.

"Would-is it bad if I say I…liked touching them?" He whispered to her, his hands twitching to wrap the girl in a hug. He saw her ears twitch up, a blush covering her neck, and he smiled lightly. He closed the distance between them and brought her into a light side hug.

"They are very fuzzy, I must say."

She pinched him on the cheek.

—

Akali watched him from the corner of her eyes, ignoring the way Shen stared at her from the next seat over. It had been two days since Jhin had been captured—with the help of that Xiiri.

The woman he was with was interesting—a Kitsune vastaya, and an old one at that. She hadn't seen their kind before. They were rare; powerful and brash, able to take down anyone with a blink of their eyes. So much power container in such a lithe body—Akali would verily state she was jealous of the vastaya. To be able to create your own destiny with so much ease…

"You are as reckless and foolish as you were when you left the Order, Akali. Have you learned nothing in your absence?" Shen berated her, forcing an annoyed breath from her lips. He had been admonishing her for her spectacular failure at capturing Khada Jhin. She hadn't expected the man to be waiting for her. No one expected her. Ever.

She had been trailing Yasuo and Percy since they left the Temple of Koeshin—after making sure Shen hadn't destroyed the White Cliffs inn in his rage—and was both intrigued and disappointed in the duo's—then trio's—attitude and actions. Percy had seemed competent enough during their, albeit brief, talk. But what she had seen from him during their trek bothered her greatly.

This was the man Ionia was supposed to hold our hope for? This broken down, barely recognizable remnant of what he could have been? She scoffed. This screamed Shen all over it, that's for sure.

"It seems I performed better than this Percy fellow has, at least. And we are supposed to believe in him?" She spit on the ground, drawing a stink eye from the bartender.

Shen bristled in his seat. Akali stiffened, deigning to keep her mouth shut, as she watched the rage flit across the Eye of Twilight's face. By the spirits she hadn't seen him mad in so long. It still frightened her now, just as much as it did when she was fourteen.

"You presume too much, child, and are grating on my final nerve. Silence yourself, or I shall make you." He said slowly, his breath shaky and his eyes nearly glowing. He was having trouble not slipping into the twilight.

She raised her hands placatingly, "Relax, Shen. We are in public." A frown graced her face, "Why do you care so much about him, anyways? He doesn't even look that much."

"He is Godborn, Akali." Her eyes widened and her breath hitched, "You would do well to remember this lesson, child. Never underestimate your foes. Even less so, your allies." He dropped some coins on the bar and shoved his chair out, storming out of the building in poorly veiled anger. Akali swallowed thickly, feeling the air finally lighten up at his departure.

"Thank the gods he is finally gone, I had been meaning to interject for a while now." She heard from her left side, her head swiveling to land on the subject of her thoughts. His mask wasn't on, and she paled at his visage.

"How about you and I have a little…chat, eh Akali?" Percy smirked. She felt a shiver run down her spine at the glow in his eyes.

Godborn.