A/N:

Setting : Post The Last Olympian, but the Heroes of Olympus never happened

Canon : Diverges after the PJO series

I. REYNA

The banners of Camp Jupiter rippled against the twilight sky, each purple fold catching the last golden threads of the dying light as if reluctant to surrender to the approaching night. Fires blazed in celebration across New Rome, their light dancing across marble columns and cobblestone streets. The fortress of Camp Jupiter had never looked more alive, more victorious. And yet, Reyna Avila Ramírez-Arellano had never felt more hollow.

She stood at the edge of the Senate House balcony, her dark hair pulled back in its customary braid, the golden medals and honors newly pinned to her purple praetor's cape catching the firelight. Below, legionnaires celebrated their victory against Krios, their voices carrying up to her in waves of jubilant sound.

She should be down there with them. She had earned this moment. They all had. Instead, she found herself here. Alone. Again.

Her fingers gripped the marble railing as her mind replayed the events of the hour before. The victory had been decisive, a battle worth a Roman tale. But something in her gut told her the day was far from over.

"Quite the party," came a voice beside her. Jason Grace stepped into view, his own praetor's cape settling around his shoulders. Tall, golden-haired, with eyes like the sky after a storm—he looked every inch the son of Jupiter. "Though I'm surprised to find the woman of the hour hiding up here."

Jason was the textbook leader of Camp Jupiter. Everyone wanted to follow him the moment the saw him, or realized his godly parentage. Everything about him spoke of power and leadership. But that wasn't to say he wasn't a skilled fighter. He was deadly when he had to be.

Reyna raised an eyebrow. "I'm not hiding. I'm… strategizing." It was a weak excuse, and she knew it.

"Strategizing how to avoid dealing with Octavian's speech about how he personally inspired the victory?" Jason's smile was easy, genuine in a way that made something in Reyna's chest ache.

"Among other things," she admitted, allowing herself a small smile. "Someone needs to ensure we don't get carried away with the celebrations. Tomorrow, we rebuild."

Jason moved to stand beside her, his shoulder nearly touching hers. The warmth of him was a tangible thing, and Reyna found herself shifting imperceptibly closer. "You know," he said quietly, "we could take one night off. Just one. The world isn't going to end if Reyna Avila Ramírez-Arellano allows herself to celebrate saving it."

Reyna turned to look at him, her carefully constructed walls threatening to fracture at the genuine concern in his eyes. This was the problem with Jason—he saw through her in ways no one else bothered to try.

"Perhaps you're right," she conceded. "One hour. Then I have reports to—"

The air between them shimmered suddenly, like heat rising from summer pavement. Reyna's hand instinctively went to her sword, but Jason caught her wrist, his eyes widening as the shimmer coalesced into the form of a woman.

Not just any woman.

Even dressed simply in flowing white robes, with her dark hair cascading over her shoulders, there was no mistaking the perfect symmetry of her features, the otherworldly glow to her skin, the eyes that seemed to shift colors like a kaleidoscope.

"Venus," Reyna breathed, immediately dropping to one knee. Beside her, Jason did the same, though she noticed the tension in his shoulders.

"Rise, children," the goddess said, her voice like music. "Please, there's no need for such formality. Not with such…unfortunate news."

Reyna stood slowly, her mind racing. Was this why she had felt an unease in her gut? Her instincts were rarely wrong. Maybe they had been trying to warn her. Venus rarely appeared to Roman demigods. Whatever brought her here couldn't be good.

And besides, along the list of Roman deities Reyna respected, Venus appeared rather low. The praetor of New Rome had far more important things to look after than her heart.

"Lady Venus," Jason said carefully, "to what do we owe this honor?"

The goddess sighed, a sound so laden with apparent sorrow that it might have been convincing, if not for the subtle curve at the corner of her lips. Reyna knew how to read people. It was the reason she was alive in the first place.

"I'm afraid I bring tidings that will… complicate matters for you both." Venus moved closer, her robes seeming to float around her as if underwater. "The defeat of Krios, while magnificent, has had unforeseen consequences. The Titans' stirring as you are aware, has has awakened old magic—magic long dormant."

Reyna's throat tightened. Magic was never good. "What kind of magic?"

Venus turned her eyes directly to Reyna, and she had the unsettling feeling that the goddess was peering straight into her heart, examining each carefully hidden feeling she harbored for the boy standing beside her. She focused on calming herself, and forcing her mind to be as blank as possible.

"A curse," Venus said, her voice dropping to a theatrical whisper. "Cast by Circe herself, centuries ago."

At the mention of her former mistress, Reyna felt a cold weight settle in her stomach. Her time on Circe's island was not something she discussed with anyone—not even with Jason. It was a part of her past she had tried to desperately forget. Coming to Camp Jupiter, being a part of the Legion, being a Praetor; it had all helped eased the pain of the past. She'd almost come to forget it.

"What kind of curse?" Jason demanded, his voice harder than usual. He glanced at her, and she forced a smile. He looked worried about her— and Reyna wasn't sure if she wanted to be happy or sad about that.

Venus's lips formed a perfect pout. "It seems that in the aftermath of the Great Stirring, an ancient curse has been reactivated. A curse that affects Roman demigods who develop… feelings… for those of Greek blood." She paused, clearly savoring their attention. "Such unfortunate souls will find themselves slowly turning to stone, hardening from skin to bone until they are nothing but lifeless statues, monuments to forbidden love."

The silence that followed was deafening. Reyna felt as if the ground had opened beneath her feet.

As far as she knew, she was the only demigod alive who knew about the Roman and Greek aspects of the gods. It was a hidden part of her past she never told anyone. However, judging by Jason's reaction— or rather, lack of one— it was clear that somehow, he knew something about this. She wasn't the only one keeping secrets.

"That's ridiculous," Jason finally said, his voice cutting through her spiraling thoughts. "Why would Circe create such a curse? And why would it suddenly reactivate now?"

Venus shrugged delicately. "The ways of magic are mysterious, even to the gods. Circe had her reasons—punishment, perhaps, for some slight against her by a Roman who preferred a Greek lover. As for why now—" She spread her hands. "The Great Stirring has awakened many ancient powers. This is but one of them."

Reyna found her voice, forcing it to remain steady. "And there's no way to break it?"

"Oh, my dear," Venus said, touching Reyna's cheek with cool fingers. "That's always the question, isn't it? Perhaps there is. Perhaps not. The heart's mysteries are even more profound than those of magic." She stepped back, her form already beginning to shimmer. "I simply thought you should be warned. The gods can be so… careless with such information. Especially," she turned towards Jason, fixing him with a rare glare, "when it involves their children."

Before either of them could speak again, Venus dissolved into mist, leaving behind only the scent of roses and a pair of doves that flew away into the sunset.

For several long moments, no one spoke. The sounds of celebration continued below, oblivious to the bomb that had just been dropped on their lives.

"Well," Jason finally said, his voice tight, "that was typically helpful of the gods."

Reyna turned to him, studying his face. There was anger there, but something else too—something guarded, hidden. Something she hadn't seen before.

"It changes nothing," she said firmly, even as her heart contracted painfully in her chest. "I am Praetor of the Twelfth Legion. My duty is to Rome. Nothing else matters."

Jason's blue eyes narrowed slightly. "Nothing?"

"Nothing," she repeated, her voice like iron.

He turned away, his jaw tight. "Right. We've both got our roles to play, don't we? The perfect Roman soldiers."

"Jason," she said, reaching for his arm. "What aren't you telling me?"

He pulled away, a gesture so uncharacteristic that Reyna felt as if he'd slapped her. "Nothing that concerns Rome," he said, his voice unusually bitter. "Isn't that what matters?"

"That's not fair," she replied, frustration building. "This isn't about Rome; this is about you. About us. If there's something—"

"There is no 'us,' Reyna," he cut in, his eyes flashing with something like pain. "There never was. I'm sorry. I tried to tell you—"

"I—" Reyna felt the air rush from her lungs. "I understand—"

"But this isn't about that. This is something—something else. I need to deal with. Alone."

The words hit her like physical blows. She had never admitted her feelings, not even to herself, not fully. Yet here he was, naming and dismissing them in the same breath.

There was a pause. A million thoughts swirled around her head, like a rising tornado of emotion she could not control. Jason never liked her. There was no Reyna and Jason. She was alone, again.

First Circe. Then Hylla. Now Jason.

"Who is she?" Reyna asked finally, the question escaping before she could stop it.

Jason stared at her, his expression shifting from anger to surprise and then settling into something carefully blank. "What?"

"The Greek," Reyna said, her voice surprisingly steady. "There's someone, isn't there? That's what this is about."

For a moment, she thought he might deny it. Instead, his shoulders slumped slightly, the fight going out of him. "It's not… it's complicated, Reyna."

"It always is with the gods involved," she said, a strange sense of calm settling over her. This was better, in a way. Cleaner. If Jason's heart already belonged elsewhere, then she could finally put her own foolish hopes to rest. "Whoever she is, I hope she's worth it."

He looked at her then. "You deserve better than this, Reyna. Better than being trapped by duty and destiny and the gods' games. We both do."

There was no arguing. No blaming or fighting. No how do you know about Greek demigods anyway?

It was clear. Reyna had her secrets. Jason had his. She'd thought they were close— being co-praetors and all. But it was clear now. Painfully so.

Reyna straightened her shoulders, adjusting her praetor's cape, trying to hide the defeat she felt inside. "Perhaps. But this is the hand we've been dealt. I suggest we play it as best we can." She turned toward the doors leading back into the Senate House. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do."

"Right," Jason muttered behind her. "Back to being the perfect praetor. As if nothing happened."

She paused, not turning back. "Something did happen. We defeated a Titan. We saved Camp Jupiter. Everything else is… irrelevant."

The lie tasted bitter on her tongue, but she walked away before he could see it in her eyes. Jason turned, and for a moment Reyna allowed herself to hope— that he would follow her. That things would workout.

But in the end he simply flew up and out of the Senate House. Typical, Reyna thought. He thinks flying away will solve all his problems.

The Senate House was mercifully empty as she made her way through its marble halls. Most of the officials were at the celebration, where she should be. Where she couldn't bring herself to go, not now. Not with the curse hanging over her head like Damocles' sword, not with Jason's eyes haunting her thoughts.

She slipped into the praetor's office—her office now—and closed the door behind her, leaning against it. It hurt to stand. It hurt to think.

"Stupid," she muttered to herself. "You're being stupid, Reyna."

"Talking to yourself already? I thought that was a symptom of at least a decade in command, not the first day."

Reyna whirled around, dagger instantly in hand. A figure detached itself from the shadows near the window—a boy about her age, with dark curly hair and eyes like burnt amber. He was lean and tall, dressed in legion armor but without any markings of rank or achievement. That would change soon though, considering how he'd carried himself in their last battle.

"Cassius," she breathed, recognizing him after a moment. "What are you doing in here? This area is restricted."

Cassius Hardy smiled faintly, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Sorry, Praetor. I just wanted to avoid the crowds. Too much… enthusiasm out there for my taste."

Reyna sheathed her dagger but didn't relax. The son of Janus was… a friend, if nothing else. He had been her first friend, and close confidant, back when she'd first joined the Legion, being a part of the second cohort. She always found his presence relaxing. He understood the burden of leadership like few others.

It had been a while since she'd seen him. Reyna winced as she remembered promising to meet him a month ago at a café in New Rome, but having to cancel last minute because of an emergency meeting in the Senate. He hadn't taken offense at that— and she appreciated it. She'd lost enough friends already.

"You should be celebrating with the others," she said, moving to her desk and shuffling some papers, trying to appear busy. "It was a significant victory."

"So should you," he countered, watching her with those observant eyes. "Yet here we both are."

She looked up at him sharply. She wasn't in the mood for this. Not today. "Is there something you need, legionnaire?"

Instead of answering, he moved to a small side table where a pitcher and cups had been set out. He poured something and approached her desk, offering her the cup.

"Cold juice," he said simply. "You look like you could use it."

Reyna hesitated, then accepted the cup. She was suddenly aware of how parched her throat felt, how exhausted her body was after the battle and everything that followed. It was just like him to notice things about her that she failed to notice herself. A small part of her felt guilty.

"Thank you," she said, taking a small sip. It was surprisingly refreshing—tart and sweet at once.

Cassius leaned against the edge of her desk, his own cup untouched. "So," he said casually, "bad news from a goddess?"

Reyna nearly choked on her drink. "How did you—"

"I saw her arrive on the balcony," he said with a shrug. "Hard to miss the divine glow, even from a distance. And judging by your expression now, it wasn't good news."

She set down her cup carefully. "It's nothing that concerns the legion."

"But it concerns you," he observed.

"I am the legion," she replied automatically.

Cassius tilted his head, studying her. "Is that what they teach at praetor school? How to erase yourself?"

"Excuse me?"

"You are Reyna before you are Praetor," he said simply. "At least, that's how it should work."

Reyna stared at him, momentarily thrown by his directness. No one spoke to her this way—no one except perhaps Jason, and even he had grown more cautious lately. A mixture of emotions churned through her head, and she paused for a moment, taking another cooling sip of the juice.

"I appreciate the concern," she said finally, "but I have work to do. A lot of it. Reports to finish, damage assessments, honor recommendations-"

"It can wait until morning," Cassius suggested quietly. "The war's over, Reyna. At least for tonight."

The way he said her name—not "Praetor" or "Ramírez-Arellano" but simply "Reyna"—sent an unexpected warmth through her chest. It had been so long since anyone had seen her as just Reyna.

But that warmth was dangerous now. Venus's warning echoed in her mind. She couldn't afford feelings—not for Jason, not for anyone who might be Greek. She highly doubted there were other Greek demigods roaming around Camp, but after if she had learned anything after today it was this: she wasn't the only with in Camp carrying secrets.

"The work of Rome never waits," she said, her voice cooling as she reached for a stack of papers. "I suggest you return to the celebrations, legionnaire. That's an order."

Cassius straightened, a flicker of hurt crossing his features before being quickly masked. "As you wish, Praetor." He set down his untouched cup. "The juice is from the gardens of New Rome, by the way. Remember that bush we planted years ago?"

"You're kidding—" Reyna replied dryly. "The one for our agriculture project?"

The dark haired demigod smiled. "You do remember."

Reyna felt her expression soften. "Of course." She felt a pang of regret at her dismissal but pushed it aside. This was how it had to be. "Thank you," she said more softly. "It was… thoughtful of you."

He gave her a small bow, oddly formal, and turned to leave. At the door, he paused. "For what it's worth, Reyna… whatever burden the gods have placed on you, you don't have to carry it alone. That's what Rome is supposed to be about, isn't it? Standing together?"

Before she could formulate a response, he was gone, leaving her alone with her thoughts, her paperwork, and the faint scent of berries lingering in the air.

Reyna sank into her chair, her fingers absently tracing the rim of the cup. Cassius was right about one thing—the juice did make her feel stronger, more centered. But strength wouldn't be enough for what lay ahead. Not with Jason harboring feelings for some unknown Greek, not with this curse hanging over them all like a shadow.

She pulled a blank report form toward her and picked up her pen. Work would be her refuge, as it always had been. Duty would be her anchor. As for her heart? Well, she'd gotten quite good at ignoring that over the years. This would be no different.

But as she began to write, a small, treacherous part of her wondered about Cassius Domitus. If anyone had secrets, it would be him. And Jason— it was clear that he liked a Greek. Reyna had no idea how he'd managed to find one so far away from their home, but she realized it explained a lot of the nightly flights Jason seemed to have been making of late. If only—

Dangerous thoughts. She pushed them away and focused on her duty.

After all, stone couldn't feel. And if Venus was right about the curse, that might be the safest thing for her to become.