#Royal jercy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

perseusjackson-jasongrace · 3 years

Text

Kingdom Collisions XVII

masterlist; my links

CW: blood, death

Phew, when i first started this fic (way back when in august last year, i think) i didn’t expect it to become a multi-chapter nor did i expect it to go in literally any of the directions it went in. with each new chapter the boys cooked up something different and apparently more and more dark. nonetheless this has been one of the most absolute fun, exciting, and rewarding fics i’ve ever put out there because 1. i just kind of did whatever i liked with it (plot holes be damned) and 2. because the interaction i got from this fic was mind-boggling. Every plot twist brought a gasp, an angst gremlin, and a sweet supporter to my doorstep (i cant name anyone because you all swopped roles continuously).

when i started writing this chapter tbh i was dreading it because how on earth do i get myself out of the sheer monstrosity that i dug myself into in the last one? but i wrote some words and even though they were all wrong and it was only seven hundred of them at least i had written something you know? but then i was at the beach and the ocean water was shoving itself into my lungs and the salt was stinging my eyes and i literally couldn’t have been happier if i tried and suddenly i just kind of knew what i wanted to write... or rather i knew i wanted to write and these troublesome princes knew how they wanted their story to close. yes, indeed, close. somehow, without me realising it, we kind of got to the last chapter. i truly didn’t think this would be it but with each word i put down it just kept drawing closer and closer to a close. and i can’t force this fic to be anything but what it is. So, my dear ones, this is the last chapter of Kingdom Collisions. thank you for coming along, i hope with all my heart you enjoyed it even a fraction as much as i did. I love these Princes so hard and Nish, Gretch, and A can tell you how sad i was to see them end. Nonetheless, please enjoy!

Since it’s been a hot minute since the previous chapter, here’s a recap:

Prince Jason Grace stumbles from the mouth of the arena and falls to his knees in front of the platform.

“Kill him Perseus.” A voice glimmers around him, leaking in through the ringing in his ears.

“Come home Prince,” That voice lilts, “Do not die so far from the sea.”

Jason looks up at him, blue eyes hazy, a dagger loose in his clasp. “Hello Prince.”

Percy steps down from the platform, and takes the dagger from his husband’s hands. It is almost sickening how easily he gives it over.

The crowd stomps its feet: they are ready for blood; they are ready for slaughter.

He holds the dagger up, making sure it glints in the sun. And then he draws his husband close until there is nothing between their bodies, not space, not even air.

“Let’s go home my love.” He whispers. “We will not die so far from the sea.”

Prince Perseus Jackson brings the blade down.

[image has alt text]

We’ll never get free// lamb to the slaughter// what you gon’ do when there’s blood in the water

Prince Perseus Jackson knows he’s going to die today. It is not a feeling, or a morbid premonition. It is the cold, hard truth. If he does not the world will continue to suffer for it. And what kind of prince would he be if he allowed his people to suffer? His father would say he’d be a coward. His father did not know the meaning of the word until he screamed as a blade sunk into his chest. Percy wonders how a man made from the Rivers themselves, can die by knife. He supposes when you spend long enough pretending to be human, you die like one too.

All the same Percy must take his last breath today, before the setting sun has managed to hide for the night. Before the darkness can wrap around his bones like cigarette smoke, and keep him trapped once more.

But first, Percy must kill his husband.

The crowd is violent; their need for bloodshed a hyena’s cackle in his head. He cannot keep them out. He cannot keep them at bay. It drives into his blood, makes every dangerous drop slosh through him, as wild as the rivers of his father. As wild as the blue eyes staring him down.

Perseus Jackson looks at his husband, barely an inch apart, so close it seems no room is left for air. He can’t breathe, so it must have been pushed away, pushed out. Those blue eyes, as striking as the brilliant sky above them, are looking at him with so much… sorrow, love, joy, rage? He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know and it terrifies him. He knows and that scares him more. Prince Jason Grace is looking at him with delight and it makes him want to sin.

“I will find you again, my love.” His lips brush the sensitive skin of his ear. He feels that beautiful body shudder underneath him.

The musician’s box echoes with the notes of the wind, a melody that rackets around in his head, bouncing off the walls of his memories. He has died to this tune many times. Died as a king, and a peasant, and a squallor, and a whore, and every form of human scum and royalty alike. They all bleed the same in the end. All die with regrets on their tongue, and the unconquering falsehood of love in their hearts, as if that alone is enough to save them. He has never been safe from death. But love saves him all the same. He wonders if he will die again.

“I will not be lost.” Jason whispers back, so quiet, so full of sweet darkness.

Percy slams the blade into his Jason’s heart and watches as the light from beckoning eyes morphs into a smile that surrenders the world. He doesn’t acknowledge the warmth at his side. There is only his Prince, his husband, his other half, his, his, his.

“I will be waiting.” Jason Grace grins. Jason Grace dies.

Already he can feel the absence of his other. It is not a dull ache, nor a sharp one. It is not really an ache at all. Rather as if a veil has been placed over him, leeching the world of colour and light. Leeching him of any goodness. What is a destroyer, without his healer?

The Prince of Mare pulls the knife out of his husband’s chest and holds it up to the crowd. His smile dances, violence coating the angles of his face like a liquid mask. The colosseum responds in vigour, chanting his name, chanting the name of Princess Piper Mclean, chanting victory as if they’ve won. Dust begins to settle at his feet, settle then jump as they jump, then settle once more. And endless dance. He knows the score by heart.

“What you have witnessed today my good people,” The woman in power stands in her box, surveying the scene before her with triumph in her brown, glinting eyes. “Is the beginning of forever, again.”

The people cheer, clap, stomp their feet, make the stone underneath them quiver.

A drop of blood falls to the floor.

“We have completed what our ancestors could not. We have made sure that the threat— ” She sneers at them; at him in his bloodied rags, and the husband still in his arms, limp and fast growing cold. “The threat of Our Downfall may never rise from the ashes.”

The deafening sound of celebration is a vice around his throat. He wants to rip the air from their lungs, make their joy a noose around their necks. They celebrate the loss of a life as if it were the birth of a thousand more; they celebrate the death of his husband as if they had won the war. But they have never seen war. And his past selves, rushing up to him in these moments, like reeling pictures, smile at the prospect. They seem to gather in his mind, grinning with endless terror and say, so very softly, “You think this is war? We’ve only just begun.”

We’ll never get free// lamb to the slaughter// what you gon’ do when there’s blood in the water

“My people,” Piper’s voice is a lull in the tides, a blind comfort to distract from the storm ahead. “We have severed the wings of a phoenix so it may never rise again.”

The crowd stomps, he stomps with them. A fissure runs under his feet, small, unnoticeable. Blood drips down, down, down, into the cracks. There is nothing left for him here. He smiles, soft and small. It is a smile only he knows exists.

With a gentleness he does not possess for anyone else but the man before him he lays his husband down, wincing as the dusty platform touches that beautiful golden skin. But he does not have time to make it clean. To give him a worthy place to rest. He only has right now. Eternity is a second in itself.

And when Prince Perseus stands, straight and unburdened. He reveals the last piece in a twisted puzzle. For sticking out of his own side— the side his prince was pressed against— is a dagger of his own. One that is killing him slowly.

The people are still cheering, Princess Piper is still revelling in her glory. She looks ethereal up on her dais, every bit the goddess she craves to be. Her brown skin shines in the brightening sun, her black hair flowing down, down, down past her hips, swishing at her thighs. And the crown that sits on her head, perched there as if it was too scared to be trapped to such power, glints almost menacingly, jewels reflecting onto the people closest to her. To the woman at her side. Annabeth, sister to Jason, lover to Piper, and honorary daughter of Hekima, sees him. Sees all of him and goes as pale as the moon. She grabs her lover’s arm, points a shaky finger in their direction, at the blade in his side.

The look of horror on their faces is almost enough to make him laugh; it’s certainly enough to make him smile. He watches on as their plans unravel, remembering the deadly words Piper had said to him all those days ago. “Instead we will kill one of you and keep the other continually alive.” But what good would that do, if he had killed them both, if he made sure his blood was smeared across his husband’s wound; if he made sure his husband’s blood could not be used to heal them. He has become the destroyer they so badly wanted.

Prince Perseus Jackson falls to his knees, at the symphony of a princess’s screech. And as he looks to his side, his fingers find the cool hand of Jason Grace. The sky is a lover’s blue. He closes his eyes. He finds his husband amongst the dead. And ever so slowly, the colosseum starts to crumble. For the blood from his wound seeps into the cracks running rivers of their own, and eats at the stone that holds the people, the power, the world. He has become his father. His mind is fill of his own stories, just like his mother. He feels the cold band on his husband’s finger. He becomes life.

We’ll never get free// lamb to the slaughter// what you gon’ do when there’s blood in the water

The walls behind her turn to dust in slow motion. She sees particles fall, land at her feet in never-ending waterfalls. Her gaze tilts to the sky where she half expects to find it raining blue, as if the whole world would collapse on top of them. She can hear the screaming, she doesn’t known if it’s joy or fear. Sh doesn’t know if anyone has realised what’s just happened, if they know the true extent of her failure.

“PIPER!” That voice is so far away, but it is one she recognizes. One she has loved since she was left on a lover’s bench ten years prior. “We have to go, we have to stop it from reaching the water.”

A pale hand gestures in front of her, to the crimson rivers speeding across the ground. They are the prettiest canals she’s ever seen. She wants to—

“PIPER,” The time for shock has gone, and in it’s place is a violent need to save herself, to be saved. “We have to get out of here, this whole place is going to come down.”

When she looks to Annabeth, grey eyes bright with fear, she is struck with feeling so deep she fears she may drown. It wouldn't’ matter; she’ll be dead before she gets to submerge.

“My people,” Her voice is loud, blessedly steady, as she surveys the uneasy crowd who are only now noticing the red brooks bubbling up to meet them. “We must leave here at once. The colosseum is no longer safe. I urge you to go home to your famililes, to pack important things and make your way as far from the oceans and rivers as possible. Danger is here, and it is not a force we can fight.”

A thousand eyes look at her, emotions blatant on their faces ranging from denial, to anger, to fear, to the worst of them all, resignation. Those are the ones, she knows, who have lived through this before, in some way or the other. Whether in a past life, or the echo of their current one through stories carried down.

The ground underneath them shakes, making their feet stumble, their legs quiver. It is laughing at them, at the idea that they can escape this destruction. It has done this a thousand times before, it will do it a thousand more. The end has never been about them. They cannot escape it, no matter where they run, how hard they pray. And people are. Praying. They don’t know it is their gods who order this. Their gods who have no care for the lives of them when they can create a million more. In the end they are pawns to an endless game of chess. The first to be discarded, despite how hard they fight to prove useful. And Jason, her lover’s brother, and Perseus, her own ex lover, are soldiers sent to do their duty. Pawns themselves, maybe knights. But gods they have never been, and gods they will never become.

Annabeth’s hand is warm in hers as they race to their death. Her blonde curls fly behind her and Piper thinks it’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen. And then the princess looks to her and she changes her mind. With each glance, each step, each squeeze of their skin, she changes and changes and changes. Until the beauty cannot be pinned to a single thing, until it is a tapestry continuously incomplete, of all the features that make up her love. If she— when, when she dies she will do it with this image in her mind.

And then they’re at the river, the one that feeds her kingdom, the one that runs into to the forest and branches to the five other kingdoms, before feeding into Perseus’s own and out to the ocean. There is no red tainting it’s glistening blue. They have time, maybe, just maybe they have time to save the only home they have ever known, the only one they ever will.

We’ll never get free// lamb to the slaughter// what you gon’ do when there’s blood in the water

Quickly, with a haste she has never seen, Annabeth pulls a single match from her pocket.

“Will you grant me permission, my love?” Her princess nods to the little stick.

There is only one way to stop a stream from turning towards a river. She nods. “For the kingdoms.”

“For the kingdoms.” The blonde echoes. She strikes the match.

Sunshine yellow flame bursts from the small head, and as it settles it turns orange, blue, goes back to yellow. Annabeth lets it fall to the floor.

And they both watch, flames dancing in their eyes, as the little match catches a dry leaf, which catches dry wood, which catches, and catches, and catches.

They clasp hands, look at each other. Piper runs a finger down a freckled cheek, skin already so warm from the blaze before them.

“Let us live.” Her princess whispers.

They jump into the river. The forest burns to an inferno behind them.

But there, trickling slowly, as if it has all the time in the world, is a single stream of blood. It creeps through the forest, turning already charring soil to nothing. The fire jumps over it, around it, beyond it. The fire does not stop it.

A single drop of blood catches on a shard of blackened stick, once a match, and as the wind blows it carries the wood over over over. It lands in the river. The stick floats away. The blood spreads wide.

And two princesses, still hand in hand, frantically swimming for their life, start to crumble to ash, like the forest they had left to burn.

We’ll never get free// lamb to the slaughter// what you gon’ do when there’s blood in the water

Perseus Jackson opens his eyes to sky blue, ice blue, saviour blue. And he cannot help but smile.

“Where have you been, my love?”

“Just had to take care of some things before i could join you.” He reaches up a hand to caress a golden cheek, warm and reddening under his touch.

“Are we finally free?” That voice is so soft, full of angled hope.

“Till the next time.” He sees that hope startle and shape before him, as if it can bend to fit around steeled will.

“What shall we do while we wait?”

“As long as we are together,” He brushes back a lock of gold. “It does not matter to me.”

“Might i suggest, staying here for the next decade at the very least?” A laughing reply, one that heats him to his bones.

“Your wish,” His green eyes sparkle dangerously, deliciously, “Is my salvation.”

“Wicked, wicked being.” Lips find his, press to him. It is so familiar, and somehow new all at once. As if the shadows they are made from need to get used to the light within them once more. As if they have not done this for a millennia, longer.

“I cannot help it when i’m with you.”

“And you are always with me,” Those blue eyes set him on fire.

“Yes,” He says simply. He touches the golden chest, the heart within. His heart.

“What shall we be in the next life?” The question is soft against his skin, raising bumps across his arms.

“I think i shall be a painter,” He muses, lips falling to a shoulder. They trace their way up, catching on collarbones and the crook of a neck, and the dimple behind an ear. “And you, my sweet? How do you intend for us to meet?”

“I think i shall like to be your nude model.” That grin is enough to cause a flush through his form.

“And who will be our heroes?”

“The queen of course.” The blonde’s voice gets conspiratorially low, “I’m her favourite servant you see, and she cannot bear the idea of anyone else seeing me naked.”

He cannot hold in his laughter, the mind of his other half an endless stream of amusement. “And how do we intend to end it this time?”

“That’s up to you dear one.” The being curled into him smiles, “I can only heal, and you know i will only heal you.”

“You make me such a villian.” His expression is violent, and beautiful, so so beautiful.

“We have never been anything else.”

He stares into the face of eternal love and is struck by the thought that it is all for him, that it has only ever been for him. He cradles a golden face in his hand, and with a deep unhurried breath, kisses Jason.

For the infinite time in his endless life, Perseus tastes fire.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tags (if you want to be added to/ taken off the tag list just let me know, all my channels of communication are open):

@nishlicious-01 : to Nish for loving this fic harder than anyone, and for loving me harder still.

@queen-of-demons-and-hell : to Gretch for always being there even though were many countries, and many timezones apart

@leyontheway : to Ley for the endless and unwavering support and for making me smile no matter what

@sparkythunderstorm : to Lily for the continuous love and the wonderful comments

@comradefurudate : to avatar for the hilarious interactions and for loving this the way you did. Your comments made my day.

@aalikun : to ali for the theories and the comments that made me smile so hard my cheeks hurt

to A : you don’t have a tumblr account but you asked if you could read one of my fanfics and i sent you this one and you sent me back a 3 minute long voice note telling me every reason you loved it and i cannot begin to explain to you how much it means to me. i listen to the vn all the time. i love you.

and to every single one of you who liked, and/or commented on this fic: you are special to me in every way that matters and i think about you all the time.

#kingdom collisions #part 17 #jercy #jason grace #percy jackson #pjssg series #pjssg fanfic #pjjg series #pjjg fanfic #jaso #grac #percy #jackson #piper mclean #annabeth chase #royal jercy #royal jercy au

31 notes · View notes

fuckprophecys · 6 years

Note

jercy au where percy's an art thief and jace is a detective?

I’m doing this for Jason Grace Week day 3, because this has been in my inbox for ages.

Jason didn’t like whoever kept stealing statues and paintings from museums.

He definitely didn’t like that they kept leaving the art on his doorstep with pretty ribbons and sweet messages on them.

“What’s the point of stealing art if you’re just going to return it,” He slapped his notebook shut and put his head in his hands. He could hear Reyna snickering at him.

“I think the perp has a crush on you.”

Jason groaned softly.

“With my luck? It’s a 50 year old drunk who’s looking to get arrested quick.”

Reyna’s snickering got louder

“Or maybe it’s a drug addict who’s sole purpose in life is to taunt detectives.”

“I hate you.”

Jason rolled out of his chair, letting himself fall to the floor. Then he laid down on his back, looking up at the press wood bottom of his desk.

And he stayed like that. For an hour.

Someone dropped a file on his stomach.

Annabeth’s sick-ridden voice rang in his ears.

“The prints came back, we’ve identified a suspect.” She sounded miserable.

Jason wiggled out from under his desk and put the file down on the table as he got up.

“You shouldn’t be here, you’re sick.”

Annabeth shook her head. “’M fine. The person we’re-”

“Me, you’re not going.” Annabeth ignored him.

“- looking for is Perseus ‘Percy’ Jackson. Lives on the corner of West 112 and Malcolm X.”

Jason nodded, grabbing the file, but not opening it.

“I’ll go alone.”

“I’m your secondary-”

“You need to get some rest. Now.”

Annabeth grumbled.

“Fine.”

Jason made his mistake when he didn’t look at the file.

Usually he would never make that mistake, he needed to know what criminal background the suspect had.

He realized his mistake mid knock on the door number Annabeth scribbled on the sticky note along with his address.

Percy Jackson was a rather average height man, but that was the only thing average about him. His eyes were like looking into all oceans in one glance, green rings around his pupil that dashed out into deep royal blue edges. His skin was ridiculously tan, almost glowing like the sun. He had a couple tattoos - a girl’s name in cursive on his wrist, a wave peaking from behind his shoulder, a geometric black rose on his his hip, half hidden.

He was built like a Greek God.

The smell of a fresh shower lingered in the air, and Jason was painfully aware that he was only wearing a towel.

Percy leaned against the frame of his door, scanning Jason’s physique. “Can… I help you, stranger?”

Jason cleared his throat.

“I’m, uh, looking for Perseus Jackson.”

“Well you found them.” He put his hand on his hip, clicking his tongue.

Jason nodded, spacing out for a moment. Percy seemed to notice this, but didn’t have time to comment.

“I’m here with the NYPD-”

Percy held up his hands.

“Woah, is this because of the parking ticket? I told the lady I was late because the guy gave me the wrong deadline and-”

“No… no, that’s not… why I’m here.”

Percy blinked.

“Oh.”

Jason licked his lips, a crutch he had for conversations.

“I’m actually here about a case.”

“Shit.” Percy grumbled. “I’m going to be late for work… can we… maybe do this later, I don’t want to get fired.”

Jason nodded without thinking about what Percy just said, then a door was slammed in his face.

Without saying a word, Jason climbed back down three flights of stairs (because the elevator was broken).

When he sat down in his car, he grabbed Percy’s file and read it out loud.

“Name: Percy Jackson, Address… blah blah blah blah blah…” He skims the page to find where he worked.

Jason’s heart stopped in his chest.

“Shit… Place of Employment: Unemployed.”

He bang his head against the steering wheel and his horn went off.

“Captain, I know I messed up but-” Jason wasn’t sure if Chiron could handle this stress right now.

“It’s a genuine mistake. you’ve been here for two days, it happens.”

Jason nodded. “Thank you sir-”

“That’s why I’m giving the case to Arellano.”

Jason stopped nodding.

“W…what?”

“I’m taking you off the case and putting you on leave.”

“But-”

Chiron stood up from his chair with the aid of his crutches. He was still recovering from an incident in the field, but he was still much taller than Jason would ever be.

“Go home, get some rest, watch whatever you millennials watch nowadays. But you’re not coming into work for a week.”

Jason opened his mouth to argue, but a stern look from Chiron caused him to decide against speaking. So instead, he left without being dismissed, grabbing his phone off this table, and going straight for his car.

The ride home was busy of him scolding himself of his mistake, losing Percy Jackson, their prime suspect, because he forgot to read a file.

His home was a small apartment, nothing much, nothing important. Just they place he stayed when he had his days off.

Jason slid his key into the door. It didn’t unlock.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

He jammed the key further in, even though it really didn’t budge.

“Oh my god, please, not right now.”

He turned his key back and forth, and the door locked on his.

His eyes went wide and his heart stopped dead again.

“Shit shit shit shit shit-”

He unlocked his door, letting it swing open, and reached for his gun…

Which he came back empty handed. He cursed his day, and grabbed the potted plant by his door, wondering if it would be good enough for defense.

He closed the door behind him, walking slowly forwards.

“Who’s ever in my house-” Jason didn’t bother correcting his mistake, “you have till the count of 3 to be out of here or I’ll find my gun.”

No reply.

“One…”

Not a single sound.

“Two…”

No movement.

“Three…”

The cold blade of a knife pressed against his throat as he was pushed against a wall, his plant shattered from his hands.

He didn’t fight only because of two brilliant blue-green eyes wildly staring at him.

“Please don’t shoot me,” Percy whispered, “I’m not here to do any harm, I promise.”

Jason held his breath. Percy smelled like spicy cinnamon and sweet vanilla, the kind of candle Jason has here. He had a blue hoodie, but Jason couldn’t read what was on it because Percy was pressing him against the wall.

Jason was also aware of the foot height difference between them, with Percy being the shorter one.

“How did you-”

Percy bit his lip and Jason mouthed ‘oh.’

“I’m… Sorry. I came here to apologize for this mess. I didn’t realise how fucked up it was until I saw you at my door and…”

Jason realised this was a confession.

“You-”

“Stole the art, yet. Because I had a crush on you in highschool after your dad bragged about you everytime I was arrested, all your achievements and grades and ‘model teen’ shit… and I decided to try and flirt and picked the worst way possible so I’m here to turn myself in.”

Jason’s face went red at this.

“I…”

“It’s fucked up, yeah, I didn’t think the job thing would even get past you. But it did… so I figured something was wrong, and I found your address and…” Percy paused. “Shit… no, that’s fucked up too.”

Percy pulled back, dropping the knife. Jason gently peeled away from the wall, guiding Percy to the living room.

“So you were flirting?”

“In a fucked up way.”

“But… you were flirting.”

Percy glared up at him as he sat on the couch.

“Are you mocking me?”

“No. It was… kinda cute…” He admitted. “Couldn’t keep the gifts.”

“I know.”

Jason hummed softly, sitting on his coffee table.

“You could have just came to me in person.”

“I would die.” Percy whispered. “I’m an unemployed mess with a criminal record for street racing and vandalism, and you’re a top detective with a squeaky clean record and a dad who is so proud of him that people literally admire you without knowing who you are.”

Jason stays quiet, folding his arms together.

“So when are you going to bring me in.”

“I’m not.”

Percy blinked in mild surprise.

“You’re… not?”

“I was taken off the case, they have no real evidence you committed the crimes… unless you sent something telling them.”

Percy just shook his head.

Jason sighed.

“Maybe not stealing things would be great. And I would lose my perfect record if anyone found out. But they don’t have to, as long as you promise never to steal anything starting… 2 minutes from now.”

Percy paused.

“Two minutes?”

Jason smiled.

“You need time to steal my heart, don’t you?”

180 notes · View notes

strickenice · 7 years

Text

Cobblestone Swords - a Jercy Oneshot

For: @pjolgbtnet‘s event 1 week one - aus | @elements1999 who I haven’t written jercy for in years

word count - 8,770

Percy had never been so bored in his life.

His father had, yet again, insisted that he join the family as they oversee the annual coliseum games - in which noblemen and lesser kings of the land bring their best fighter to die on the cobblestone and sandy floors of a coliseum, while only one man triumphs above all and crowned free from his sword-swinging grave.

Percy hated that ideology. That he had to sit and watch egotistical men swing metal toothpicks around for an audience and shown off like prized cattle. It was revolting that his father enjoyed such… calamities.

“Smile a little.” His sister, Rhode, hissed softly. Percy rolled his eyes, fixing the draping of his minimalist toga.

[More Under Cut]

“Smiling for something I do not endorse will be the last thing I ever do. I’d rather die sooner.”

Rhode pinched the bridge of her nose. “You’re too complicated. You’d rather die that do a lot of things.”

“Because those things are crude, ineffective, or illogical.” Percy pierced his lips, looking at his older sister as the carriage rocked over the cobblestone path.

“Maybe you’ll find a wife here.”

Percy gagged softly. “As if, I’d-”

“Rather die, I know. Percy, you need to think of your future. Whether or not you like it, it’s something you have to do because fate decreed you as future king.”

“But fate did not declare my offspring to be king, nor queen. For all we know, your future child shall succeed me.”

The carriage bumped a little on a rock in the road, and Percy scowled, glancing out the window. They were still a half a milestone away from the coliseum, which Percy didn’t know if he was relieved or odious because of this.

“You do know Dad’s going to make you shake hands with all noblemen that come this year. I heard it’s the most there has even been, easily a half a thousand men.”

“And if one of them tries to touch me, I shall break their fingers and watch him back away from me.” Percy deadpanned, watching the townspeople weave around the royal carriage.

“No you won’t, Mom will not allow that.”

Percy flinched at this. “Of… of course she wouldn’t…”

Rhode sighed, but didn’t say a word for the rest of their ride.

Percy closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them they were in the cover of the stone walls of their coliseum, a guard opening the door to let the two royals out of their ride.

Weaving through dark but spacious corridors, Percy let his feet drag ever so slightly. He hummed softly, watching the torch light in the headguards hand lick shadows on the walls.

Before long, they surfaced and were greeted by the King, a tall man with kinder, but authoritative, features. Dark blue eyes lined with wrinkles, a sharper jaw that hinted his handsomeness in younger years, as well as a dark bush of black hair on his chin and cheeks.

The man standing next to the King was pale and squat, crystalline blue eyes twitching with hyperactivity or lack of sleep, thin wisps of bleached pale hair were untamed atop his scalp. Percy thought he looked rather cadaverous, like he’d drop any moment.

“And this must be your beloved prince, it is an honour to meet you.” The man stated, offering a boy hand out. Percy looked at the hand with slight disgust, then back at the man’s face.

“I wouldn’t dare say beloved, I’m sure I am not that important.” Percy stated vapidity, watching the man release that this prince was not going to shake his hand.

“Oh, but Prince Per-”

“Just Prince, for you.”

The man’s eyes flashed with a quick emotion of irritation. The King, dear old Poseidon, glanced at his son and raised an eyebrow to his behaviour.

“Of… course, Prince. Since the Oracle has crowned you future king, you’re beloved amongst all.”

“If you insist. And might I ask, whom are you?”

The man’s bony fingers taped together. “The name’s Octavius, my lord. I’ve come from far north to participate in your father’s gladiator tournament.”

Percy bit back a sarcastic remake, then nodded. “How very… persistent.”

Octavius didn’t seem to catch the hesitation. “Indeed, my gladiator was raised to fight, he looks forward to.”

Percy hummed a little. “Well then, I am sure you are familiar with our rules - only one gladiator shall be entered per year, only one will win, ma-”

“I am very familiar with the rules.” Octavius reassured, his wide eyes watching Percy with a glint.

“Don’t interrupt me.” Percy stated darkly. Poseidon cleared his throat.

“Rhode, Perseus, you’re to be expected up on the balcony before the crowd starts to show.”

Percy nodded, hooking his arm with his sister’s and letting her guide him to an entryway.

His ears caught a whiff of words from Octavius - “... very skilled in his talent, I’m sure he’ll make a great king.”

Percy just kept his head forward, striding back into darkness.

Day one started off slightly uneventful, at least up until the gladiators showed up.

He sat on the plain wooden chair, twirling his wine in his golden goblet, contemplating if he could just fall asleep right where he was. He noticed Octavius in the stone seating, the hot sun blaring down on his shimmering white skin. He was in a position where, no doubt, the only way he’d not burn if is Apollo favoured this mortal amongst others. He didn’t look favoured by the sun god, but Percy’s learned to not judge by an appearance, even if that appearance looked more like a corpse.

The crowd of noblesmen and lesser kings, all of which were only here for the coin prize, caused Percy to yawn.

Rhode sat next to him, fixing her toga so her golden brooch wasn’t so lopsided, even when Percy reassured her it wasn’t. For her, this was a chance to find a man to love and marry off to, one of her own choosing. He counted at least 5 noblemen, one of which was the son of the neighbouring queen that he noticed Rhode had a flattering eye for. He wasn’t horrendous, not by any means, but Percy always found it odd that everyone called him Farmer Joe, or that he was named Joseph in the first place.

Someone was shouting loudly at the crowd, informing everyone what the rules were. The new rules, established only a few short years ago, making everything stricter - only one gladiator per entree, swords must be between 2 roman feet to 3 roman feet with a limit of only one sword, no magically items or gifts shall be used, and neither can magical or blessed abilities, and other minor details that ultimately added up to the fact that this was a show of pure mortal skill and nothing more.

One by one, the crowd of civilians and peasants filled in, eager for the one time of year the classes will intermingle and bid for who they want to win, where peasants can win money that’ll never be taxed and for merchants to smile and sell products for smaller prices. Other kingdoms had fairs - Cataracta had a death tournament.

The first gladiator was boring, a typical tall man with abs and muscles and a loincloth. So was the second one. And the third one. And the next 3 or so dozen. They came from all over - North in the lands of Europa, South to the Upper Kingdoms of Egypt, West at the edge of the world in Iberia, and east in the lands of Greece.

But it wasn’t until the introductress announced a very eye catching man’s name.

“From the far North, to the cold reaches of an ally kingdom called Britannia, comes Augur Octavius and their gladiator representative Jason Graces.”

When the golden haired man stepped into the light, cladded only in a much different leather armour - a Pteruges if Percy remembered correctly, that hung at his waist, Percy nearly choked on his wine. He’d heard of the people who lived in Britannia - always taller than average and had golden hair that shimmered in the light, with their lighter but softer skin with sharper features and slightly different way of speech. He’d never think twice about it, but now that he saw this gladiator… his cheeks were warm, and he suspected it was not a cause of the wine.

Jason… that was his name. Percy suspected that it was Jason’s fault, even if Percy’s only view was the glittering soft sunkissed skin of his abs - in which Percy thought his eyes were deceiving him by counting 8 - and the aurelian hair that he just couldn’t help be be memorized over.

He then noticed the smug look on his sister’s face.

“What?” He glanced away from the stage below. Rhode rolled her eyes.

“Don’t act like I didn’t notice that.”

“Notice what?”

“You’re interested, you’ve never seen a Britannie before. Like what you see?”

Percy’s cheeks flared with heat. “I have no idea what you are talking about, maybe the heat is messing your train of thought.”

Rhode scuffed, her eyes twinkling mischievously. Percy ignored her and turned back just long enough to watch Jason exit the stage, dipping back into the shadows below.

And then he was bored again.

When Day 4 rolled around, Percy was out in the woods before sunbreak.

Silent as the morning stream, he picked his way through the underbrush of the wild forest until he found what he was looking for - a cimmerian temple marked with the amber symbol of two twin torches crossed like swords in battle.

He took a deep breath, his foot hitting the smoother stone steps of the honourable temple.

In the next 10 strides, he entered the temple and knelt at the alter.

“My Lady, I must apologise for my absence.” Percy started, bowing his head down. “My father has asked me to observe the annual gladiator tournament, and… I have come across a predicament.”

He didn’t get a verbal response, but he took the sudden appearance of a serpent in the corner of the room as a sign.

“I seem to have an… attraction to a certain man within this tournament, his name is Jason Graces. A gladiator from up north, Britannia, and… quite frankly, I am not sure as to why. I was hoping that, maybe, you could assist in this issue, being one of your favoured mortals.”

The serpent slide over, her purple eyes watching Percy. Instead of attacking, as most mortals would expect of a snake, the sleek black scaled creature regarded Percy calmly and then turned around and moved for the back of the temple.

Percy stood, his obsidian cloaks ruffling from his movement, and he followed the creature deep into the undergrounds of the temple.

With nothing to guide him but the subtle hissing noises, Percy let his fingers brush against the scabrous limestone walls, until they surfaced at a circle with four stone hedges.

Percy knew this place, he’d been here several times before - 3 years old being the first. This was the crossroads, the sacred place of Hekate, where one will go to see the path to the future. Most preferred Janus, he was straight forward, black and white. But Hekate was neither black nor white - she was perse, she was xanthous, she was bittersweet and anything but bland.

Percy faced North, watching as the mask gave way to a vision - A king of sorts, an army shuffling north as green eyes glared angrily south.

He turned, facing East quickly. Black night filled his sight, the soft purple glow of a lamp shining through a pitcher of wine. There were coins on a table, and the look of a man with blonde hair sorrowfully watching the wine like it held painful memories.

Percy then turned to face West. For a moment, nothing happened, then the shimmering light of a blue sea took life around him, the wind blowing the fabric of an all too familiar cloak.

A man stood opposing to her, his face hidden.

“I’ll do it.” Was the only words he heard. Hekate turned to Percy, raising an eyebrow as if to say ‘I gave you your paths, which shall you choose?’

He staggered back, confused. He’s never been torn about his paths - that was what Hekate liked about him. Level headed, he knew what he wanted even with the Mist clouding his judgement.

Doubtfully, he slowly turned South. The empty stonehedge meekly showed him as King, sitting at the top of a balcony, inattentive and alone.

He stood there, watching his own aged face yawn and tap his fingers on the stone.

“I…” Percy stood taller. “I think it is time that maybe… Maybe I learn how to listen to my sister. I am sorry, My Lady, but your paths only showed heartbreak and loneliness, and one thing you have shown me is that I must fight for a path. I shall make my own.”

The light of the moon flickered softly at this, as if shocked, but other than that Percy got no other response. So he picked the space between the South hedge and the East hedge, picking through the wild plants and off towards the palace.

Little to his knowledge, a goddess watched him from where he once stood, a smile on her face and a roseate tint to her dress.

Day 5, Percy watched from his chair on the balcony as egotistical men stabbed at each other and barely moving in anything other than rash movements.

Well.. most egotistical men.

By this point, they were halfway through the first brackets. Out of the 512 men, 511 will die. Right now that death toll wasn’t large, maybe a quarter of that death toll, but Percy was only interested in one.

And that one was a dancer to the sore eyes of a man.

A twirl here, a delicately placed stab there. A graceful jump, the glittering of his sword right before it strikes the jugular of his opponent's neck. Percy never marveled at fighting, he preferred magic and Mist to swords and daggers, but he couldn’t help but watch as Jason took down his opposer with nothing but a sweet smile and a strategy.

“Percy.”

The prince scowled and looked up. “What?”

“You’re staring again,” The servant chided, placed a fresh goblet of wine on the sill of the balcony. “I’m sure your sister has teased you for it?”

Normally servants did not speak to Percy, but this one was different. Outside of the castel, Hazel Levesque was an equal to Percy, a child raised in the now abandoned temple of Hekate. Her ochre eyes watched his with a knowing gaze.

“I am not sure how I… feel about this man.” Percy waved his hand in exaggeration. “Nor do I feel as if the crossroads were much of a help.”

“Where did you decide to turn?” The older girl sat down below the sights of the balcony’s openness, as if to hide from the sun. Her sombre skin melting into the shadows like the Mist was pulling her from reality.

“I didn’t decide.” Percy glanced back down at the field of sand and blood below. Jason was being directed away from them, no doubt back to the living cells just underneath them.

“What do you mean by that?”

He turned back to her. “I didn’t like what I saw, all were lonely and depressed. I wanted to resolve my issue, but this time but not taking a crossroad but make my own.”

Hazel sucked in a breath. “Percy, I don’t know if that’s…”

“I can do it.” Percy stated carefully. “It would take everything I know, and even then some, but I can do it.”

“You’ve followed the crossroads at every turn of your life. Are you sure you want to risk being king for a man?”

Percy thought for a moment, then nodded.

“My father believed that me following magic was going to toy with me, to make me fall flat and lose the ability to lead my own will. But the crossroads are just paved roads - they’re the easiest to take, but if I want to discover the new and unknown, I must run in the woods. Now, my dear Hazel, I believe you might not want to be called out for idling?”

Hazel blinked, then stood up and dusted her clothes off. “Of course not, me? Never. I hope you enjoy your wine, my lord.” She half bowed, smiling ever so slightly. Percy shook his head and waved her off, turning back to watch the chaos of stabbing below.

Later that day, well into the night’s grip on the mortal world, Percy walked through the corridors to the battle floors of coliseum.

He didn’t know why he was there - he didn’t particularly care for sand because it got in places they shouldn’t be, and as for the actual place… if he wanted to be alone he would go out into the woods and sit on a tree for a while.

Percy figured he might be growing attached, that maybe seeing all these shirtless men fighting was somehow shaping his mind into liking this place a slight bit more.

The sound of metal hitting sand caught his attention the moment he surfaced into the moonlight and torch-lit sand.

A sword paused mid swing, the bearer watching Percy with a mix of shock and suspicion.

Percy noticed the 4 distinct dips in the abdominal area that led to the creation of a pack of 8 defined muscles.

“I… didn’t realise someone would be here.” Percy managed. Jason lowered his sword, standing a little more relaxed.

“I’m sorry if I surprised you…” His voice was husky and with a tinge of sharper edge to each part of a word.

“You… didn’t.” Percy looked around at the stone seatings. “I had no idea we let our competitors out to train at night.”

Jason frowned at the word ‘our’, then caught on quickly with who Percy was.

“Your majesty, the rules state simply that training with others in strictly forbidden, as well as observing how others fight. To prevent future-planning. Most don’t train, but there isn’t anything opposing training alone at midnight.”

Percy simply nodded. “I suppose that is fair. Forgive me for not knowing, I’ve… never attended these events before.”

“Never attended a gladiator tournament?” Jason raised an eyebrow at this. “You’re the Prince, wouldn’t you observe, or at least know how to participate in, a fight?”

Percy blinked for a moment, processing the odd choice of word placement. “I don’t fight with a blade, or endorse fighting with a blade. I prefer magic, manipulation over mutilation, so to speak.”

“So you’ve never tried fighting with a sword?” Percy shook his head a little. Jason twirled the hilt of his sword a half a circle using the point of his index finger, then offered the grip to Percy. “Do you want to learn?”

Percy’s been offered the same opportunity before - each time saying now. But this time…

“Yes.”

That night, Jason’s skin pressed against Percy as he continued to touch and correct the prince. Each time Percy got corrected, he found himself leaning closer to the Britannia-born man. His hands shook, but with each new twist and thrust he repeated, the faster he got. He fell into a paradoxical effect - if he failed Jason’ll touch him and Percy enjoyed the intimacy, but if he succeeded Jason’ll smile and Percy liked his smile.

But then, after a while, he found himself sitting down with pithos of pure water and some sweet wine, talking to a man rather than a warrior.

“So you’re not from Brittania?” Percy looked up at the taller, blonder man.

Jason nodded. “My mom’s actually from here, my dad was a king over west, but when our kingdom was raided, Octavius’ dad - the former augur - got a message from the gods that I were to be raised in the gladiator quarters.”

“Sounds… a bit strange. You were favoured by a god?”

“Goddess.” Jason mused. “She claimed me as her mortal when I was 2.”

Percy find that impressive. “Which one, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Juno.” Jason took a sip of his wine.

Percy paused. “Wait, the queen god claimed you as hers?”

Jason nodded. “My sister was claimed by Zeus, but as you might know the king and queen are more of a package deal.”

They shared a moment of peaceful silence, before Jason looked up at the sky.

“Rumour has it that you’re also favoured.”

Percy admired Jason’s jaw structure just for three winks, then hummed softly.

“Yeah, Hekate.”

Jason looked back at Percy, his soft sky blue eyes twinkling in the torchlight.

“How did that come about, if I remember correctly Hekate doesn’t claim mortals until she sees them use their potential.”

Percy pirouetted his wine in his glass. “I was 3 when I ran into the woods, wanting to get away from the palace and the guards and the citizens who treated me like a feared beast because of my birthright. I ended up getting lost, and as day turned into night I was alone. I decided to maybe follow the stars, like my sister would talk about in stories, but a 3 year old can’t tell where the Ursa Major is. So I ended up finding the sacred crossroads.

“Well, I didn’t know which way was what, so I wandered to the first stone hedge. Then I saw the path - A boy about 12 with girls serving him and a pile of skulls at his feet. And I backed away, thinking maybe I could try to got another way. I ended up turning from the north to the south and saw where I was right then, only I was 12 also and a lost look in my eyes while holding a staff.

“I tried to turn West, but found myself staring at an older man, roughly around my age now, holding a sword to someone’s throat and the crown on my head. In pure horror, I finally turned East and saw something I could never forget. It was me, about 7 years old, holding two torches crossed together, and the Mist around my feet. But… unlike the other visions, this one wasn’t horrifying or lonely. I felt… calm, confident, proud. So I started walking East, along the path, before I reached a temple where priestesses took me in for the night.

“They taught me magic, how to manipulate the Mist and how not to use it. I didn’t go back to the kingdom, I was happy where I was. When I turned 7, I knew how to wield my magic as well as the eldest priestess did. So they took me back to the crossroads.”

Jason watched Percy with pure interest, their cups of alcohol now abandoned.

“When I turned north, I saw myself as head priest of Hekate’s temple, instructing future followers and worshipping the goddess. But, like with any decision, I had to look at the other options. So I turned south - something most people don’t think about. The South represents your past, you can always go back, but the South only showed me where I was right then and there - a child with a dream. So then I turned back West, and saw my father, sitting on his throne. He looked… tired, like all the life had been drained out of him. My mother was next to him, her posture anything but the regal one I knew. Finally, I turned East and saw Hekate herself, with her torches and her serpent around her feet, with me next to her. I was training, my magic blending with me.

“Most people would think I’d go East. That I’d go straight to the top with the mistress of magic herself. Instead, I turned West. I missed my family, and now that I was older I felt as if I should go back to my older life. It was that decision that sparked Hekate to come down to Earth and told me that I, a child who just turned down the path that would lead me along the path of unimaginable power, was the mortal she would claim as her favoured.”

Jason whistled softly. “So you turned down the chance to train with a goddess for your family.”

Percy smiled a little. “For a long time, I heard the saying ‘Blood of the Covenant is thicker than the Water of the Womb’, but sometimes… the most powerful magic you can create can only come when you are nearest to your family.”

“Do you ever regret it?”

Percy hesitated. “Sometimes, and whenever I do I go back to the crossroads. Her temple is long since abandoned, a group of thieves who ran them out and my father took them in. But… every time I went back, I knew exactly where I was going to go… At least, until recently.”

Jason blinked, then tilted his head slightly. “Recently?”

“I… went back, this morning. And… I didn’t like anything I saw. So I did something I’ve never done - I walked away.” Percy picked up his wine. “I’ve never done that, now I have no idea what to do but avoid three futures that I didn’t agree with.”

He downed the rest of the dark robust drink, then rocked a little on the stone bench. Jason offered his cup to Percy, and he let his fingers brush against the gladiator’s as he took the goblet.

Before long, they were talking about other things, but Percy couldn’t help but realise that two of those paths showed Jason. He had never seen the man up close prior to this moment. Jason had a hint of a blond beard upon his chin, smooth skin that was soft to the touch even with the muscles, features that were to be expected of a prince - sharp, angular, and regal but in a much different way than Percy’s was. His laugh was like spun sugar, sweet and addicting. His cloth wrap around his hips was the same colour as his eyes, a rare blue most fabrics could never have.

Percy said something funny, then the next thing he knew Jason’s soft lips were pressed against his, a hand gently tucked under his chin.

They stayed for a moment, Percy frozen in shock and eyes wide, then Jason pulled away.

The tension in the air rose like the morning fog.

“I… I’m sorry, I should have ask-”

Percy dropped his cup and grabbed Jason’s face, pushing up to kiss him again. Jason made a muffled huff of surprise, before his hands wrapped around Percy’s waist, pulling him closer.

The kiss was soft, delicate, but passionate all at once. His body shivered with emotion as their lips moved in sync, their bodies close and hands pressed against bare skin.

It felt like magic, like the very first time he summoned his own flames, the excitement of knowing that this was what he wanted. And now he was sure - he needed to keep this one, the man that made him feel different in ways only a smile can show.

A long time passed before Jason pulled back for a breath.

“I guess-”

Percy pressed a finger to Jason’s lips, and the message was understood.

They sat there, Percy in Jason’s arms, watching the sky. Percy’s face was red, flustered from the emotions.

Jason hummed softly as the light of the rising sun started to blot out the stars. “I need to get some sleep, the last thing I’ll need is to underslept before my next match-up tomorrow.”

Percy looked up at Jason calmly. “I can’t do anything to influence, rules are still rules, but know that I’m cheering for you.”

Percy didn’t see Jason until the night after his second match, where he suspected the former prince to be training barefoot in the sand.

Jason was greet by a soft kiss to the lips from something he couldn’t see.

“Percy,” He chided gently. The prince, and dare Percy imply the term ‘lover’, just smiled and let the Mist around his despite.

“Surprise?”

He just got a chuckle in response before the two proceeded into a lesson on sword movement. Percy’s blade, though a bit unbalanced, quickly became a blur of metal as Jason instructed technique tactics. But, just as last time, they both found themselves on a stone bench in close proximity. The kisses were tender, and the fingers brushed against exposed skin. The night dragged on, and Percy held Jason’s hand as he showed him the different levels of the coliseum.

“So you sit all the way up here?” Jason looked around the velvet curtained balcony. Percy sat himself down on the granite ledge of the balcony.

“Sometime alone, but yes. This is reserved for the royal family, one of the sections at least.”

Jason’s fingers brushed against the plain chair, then he strided over to Percy and pressed against him, using his arms to keep Percy from falling over.

“You’re spoiled.” Jason breathed, pressing his face into the the nape of Percy’s neck.

He laughed softly, smiling. “I know I am, but not as much as I am right now.”

Jason looked up at Percy, blue eyes filled with amusement. “Is that so? If you think this is spoiling…” He paused, then kissed Percy’s jaw line. “Wait until you experience the rest of tonight.”

“You’re uncharacteristically happy.” Rhode broke Percy’s daydream, causing a confused scowl.

“What on earth do you mean by that?”

Rhode placed her book on the table. “You’re smiling, for one. You don’t typically smile while sitting at a table. As well as that, you’re humming more often, there is a spring in your step, and you’ve got some discolouration on your collar bone.”

“That has nothing to do with anything.”

“Did you meet someone last?” She batted her eyelashes and leaned forward. “Maybe a certain blond haired gladiator.”

Percy sighed, putting his head in his hands. “It’s not against the rules.”

Rhode gasped. “Perseus!”

“What, you asked.” He defended.

“So you actually… like…” Percy got the implication and nodded, smiling innocently. “Wow… that really is unlike you.”

“Hey!” He protested, sitting up straighter. Rhode started laughing.

“I still love you, baby brother. You seem happy, but what happens when…”

“That’s an if, Rhode. He’s got a pretty good chance of making it.” Percy picked at this food. “He has to.”

“Percy, you of all people would know that the ideology of that is useless. You should just go to the cros-”

“I already did” Percy’s voice turned sharp. Rhode paused.

“So what did you take then? The path the ensures his life with you?”

“That’s the issue - I didn’t like any of my paths. All of them involved death… North and South were Jason’s death.”

“And… what about the East and West?”

Percy frowned, then took a deep breath.

“They were my deaths. So I challenged my own goddess, told her I was going to make my own path.”

Rhode watched her little brother with an unreadable face.

“Has anyone ever done that?”

Percy shook his head. “And succeeded, never happened. Plenty have opposed the paths, but we all end up taking them - one way or another.”

Before she could say anything, a guard knocked on the wall.

“Your carriage is ready, My Lord and Lady.”

Percy nodded and sighed, getting up from the table and following the guard outside.

With each win Jason got, the more Percy’s feelings got torn.

Yes, he was extremely happy with the man - his own father didn’t know about the relationship, Jason was incredible at a multitude of intimate activities that ventured off from soft kisses, and the stories of Britannia were lovely to the ears. But, there was that haunting feeling of the dark future, of that chance that Jason could slip up one time and Percy’s life would fall into a pit of despair as he watches his lover be dragged off to a mass grave.

When the count of men dropped down to the final 16, Percy couldn’t withstand the boiling feelings.

He told Jason, who was now watching him with confusion.

“You went to the crossroads… because you were confused on how you felt about me?”

“Your were a… startling sight, I’ve never seen a man as pleasing to the eyes and heart as you are. And… I’d never felt affection before, not romantically.”

“And… In two paths you could have taken, I died?”

“Yes.”

“And in the other two, it implied your death?”

Percy nodded.

“But because you walked away, you have no idea which one will happen?”

Jason received another nod.

He went silent, Percy watching the gears in Jason’s mind turning.

“Are you mad at me?”

“What?” Jason blinked in pure surprise. “No, why would I be mad at you?”

“Because I kinda sorta kept a very important thing away from you.”

“I’m not mad at you, Percy.” Jason cupped his lover’s face. “I can’t get mad at you, not for that.”

Percy let himself relax in Jason’s hands, closing his eyes. Soft lips met his own for a moment, and the world brightened just a little.

“Want to talk more into the details?” Jason whispered. Percy nodded, feeling the hands drop from his face.

“Yeah.”

Unbeknownst to the two love birds, a cheerful goddess was watching them from Percy’s balcony, twirling a ribbon in her hands while her keen eyes twinkled with knowledge.

As 8 mean dropped to 4, noblemen started getting anxious.

All of them were use to a more friendly competition, more trashtalk than grudges, but they were no use to a gladiator who glided through the competition without a single hiccup.

When Octavius went to bed that night, the other 3 noblemen came together and skeemed.

“There is no way that a man can glide like that on the battlefield.” One said, his raspy voice not unlike from a snake’s hiss.

“Agreed. He must be receiving help, no doubt something magical.” The elder man with no hair and a weak face added.

“But the prince is here,” The youngest one cried out. “A Hekate-favoured would never allow a man to cheat his way out of fate.”

“Not unless the prince favoured this newest man.” The snakey one pointed out with his half-formed finger. “I’ve seen the look in his eye, even from afar. He’s got a liking for this gladiator, must be adding him along to ensure a win.”

“Then we must find a way to burn this Jason Graces to the ground. We can split our coin prize evenly between us, only the winner will receive the extra coin left over.” The youngest tapped his fingers on the table. The other two nodded in agreement.

Together, as quietly and quickly as possible, they made soft changes to the blade Jason would bear for the last two fights, and whispered their plans to their gladiators.

Jason did fine for the first battle - Percy noticed something off about his stance immediately.

As he stalked down the corridor, he took a turn and almost ran directly into the fabrics of his father’s toga.

“And where are you going in such a rush?” The king chuckled softly, watching his son take a gentle step back.

“Sorry, I’ve seem to have forgotten something.” He lied.

Poseidon raised an eyebrow. “Late to a certain… consultation?”

Percy’s eyes widened and he went to deny this, but his father held his hand up.

“Rhode told me everything about you and this… gladiator.”

“Father, I can explain-”

“No need, I do not disapprove.”

Percy stopped mid-thought. “You… don’t?”

Poseidon waved for his son to walk next to him, and they both started toward the entrance of the palace passageway.

“I know of your concerns, your sister described very vividly about what you discussed with her. She is very concerned that you might be digging yourself in too deep.”

Percy pierced his lips. “I just want to be happy with Jason. He’s captured me in ways I didn’t understand, in ways that I still don’t. But… I love him. And all I want is for him to become more than a night-time meet up, to be able to sit next to me in the throne room, for me to proclaim him publicly as the man I love.”

“And Fate told you otherwise?”

“I didn’t see mine, or his, direct death. But instead, I watch Jason try to bargain with Hekate in one direction, and being regretful in the other. I saw myself if I continued on the path of the past - sitting blasé to everything happening in the coliseum. And in the last path… There was an army marching my way, as if I were the enemy. The implications are there, But I don’t know how I’ll avoid 4 fates at once.”

Poseidon was silentious for a pace or two. “You’ll find a way. I might not… enjoy your magical side, but if anything is clear to me - you always find a way. Now run along, and behave yourself tonight.”

Percy caught the humour in his father’s voice, then the man turned down another corridor and left Percy to walk himself to his meeting.

That following day, Poseidon stood next to his wife, who was well enough to find herself a way to the final show.

“You’ve let him to the bottom seats?” Salacia mused, her hands folded on her lap.

“He’s got an eye for the blond gladiator, I’d find it rude if he weren’t allowed to see the fight up close. He’s a bit more ecstatic about it than when the tournament first started.”

Salacia let a small laugh slip. “He is very much like you in ways I can’t help but notice.”

“Was that an insult, by dear Sally?”

“Oh no dear, you’ve mistaken. It was merely a complement.” Salacia assured, before waving at him to sit down.

Poseidon did as he was implied to do, fixing his crown and watching the crowd below.

The final fight started off without a hitch. Jason against a giant of a man named Lucius. Poseidon watched as the brute went to swing at Jason, only for the latter to spin off to the side and kick at the former’s legs to set him off balance.

The fight grew tense. Poseidon noticed the slightly more sluggish movements in Jason’s stance. Something tugged in his conscious, giving him the feeling similar to one when they see the tide pull out before a destructive wave. Something wasn’t right.

He leaned on the edge of his seat, watching with a harder glare at the battle below. The crowd was making it hard to hear, but the faint sound of metal clanging together sounded off a pitch.

Then it happened like a wildfire. A burst of blue light knocked Jason back 20, 30 royal feet back. Poseidon stood up so fast that his chair flew into the wall.

Lucius threw his sword, intending on hitting an unsuspecting Jason, but the blade stopped short.

Someone who wasn’t Jason crumbled down into the sand, and the crowd filled with gasps.

Poseidon’s vision sharpened just enough to see the face of his own son with a sword in his chest.

“My lord!” Hazel’s urgent voice caused Poseidon to twist around.

“What is going on, what-”

In her hands, she held a sword. “My lord… my sisters and I… we were investigating something in the the catacombs, and discovered that someone had swapped Jason’s blade with a cursed one.”

Poseidon heard a cry of pure pain, and he turned around to see Jason holding Percy to his own chest. The crowd went deadly silent as, with a bout of rage, Jason attacked Lucius with his bare hands and the brute fell to his knees, his head twisted in an inhumanly position.

Then he was back at Percy’s side, holding the prince close to him.

“Did… did you figure out who it was?”

Hazel hesitated at the weak tone in the King’s voice.

“Yes. It was the last 3 noblemen and their gladiators, they didn’t believe Jason was playing far.”

Poseidon watched as guards swarmed the field, trying to pull Jason away from the body

“Find them, all three of them. They will pay for my son’s death.”

Jason’s face never felt so raw. He stood at the base of a cimmerian temple, holding a sword in one hand and an unlit torch in the other.

His eyes still bloodshot from the incident 3 days ago. It all happened to fast - the sword burning in his flesh, the unexplainable fast movement of Perseus, the sword meeting flesh of a man who shouldn’t have been killed.

The way the king looked at him when he instructed the guards to never touch Jason again. The way the Queen, still shaking from her illness, swung the blade that ended the lives of 3 men who dared to cheat to win. The princess who brought Jason to the old living quarters of her brother, who hugged him and thanked him for making the last moments of her brother’s life the best. The girl with the puffy charcoal hair and the ochre eyes who told him that Hekate was not responsible for the death of the man he loved most.

But he couldn’t stand the pain. So there he stood, tears dried on his cheeks and his lotus ring on his finger, ready to talk to a goddess he wasn’t even sure about.

When his feet hit the first step, someone cleared her throat.

“You’ve got your sword and torch mixed.” She chided. Jason turned to look at her.

“Ex...excuse me?”

The lady wasn’t much of anything - not particularly beautiful, but not rancid either. “Your sword is to be in your left hand, where you do not wield it. The torch is to be in our right.”

Jason looked at his hands, then carefully corrected his mistake.

“Much better.” The lady walked up next to him, then up to the top. He stood their, watching her. He turned to look at him.

“Well? You wanted to speak with me, did you not?”

“You’re… Hekate?” Jason looked up at her. The goddess smiled.

“Indeed. Now, come along. I do not prefer to talk in the wilderness, gods tend to want to gossip about what they hear.”

Jason took a small step forward, then another one. Soon he was next to Hekate, and she guided him into an old bedroom.

“You blame me, do you not?”

Jason let a small breath in. “In… In a way, I guess I do.”

“And why is that?” The goddess sat on the bed, folding her hands onto her lap and crossing her legs.

“Because…” Jason struggled to find the words. He had been enraged when he decided to come here, but now…

“Because you feel as if I led Percy down the wrong path?” She offered. “My dear, I wish I could have given Percy the path he wanted most. But fate wanted him to pick between despair and sadness, and when he turned that down, he set himself up for the unpredictable.”

“But that’s not fair, why couldn’t he be happy with me?”

“Fate is rarely fair. It is a balance system, it is nearly impossible to escape…” Hekate paused “Nearly. But you bear Juno’s mark, you’re destined for a life separated from fate.”

Jason shook his head. “What do you mean?”

The goddess stood up. “I rule over a multitude of domains, the underworld is one of them. If you choose to accept, I shall assign you a quest to prove if you truly have what it takes to have the heart of my prized mortal.”

Jason didn’t hesitate.

“I accept.”

The torch in his right hand burst into flames, lilac in tone.

“To the east, at the sea, there is a cave that leads down to the underworld. Once you get there, go directly to Hades and offer him your sword in trade for your beloved prince. But as you leave, you can look look back. Trust that he is following you, and do not stop until you step foot inside the crossroads. The torch will light your way.”

In a flash of amber, the goddess was gone. Jason stood there, looking at the room. He somehow knew whose room this was - Percy’s. Then he turned and walked out of the temple, following his flame west to the sea.

He took longer than he expected. A half a day’s march, and Jason suspected that if he laid down to rest, he’d lose his only chance at getting things back to how they needed to be.

A thief cowered away from his glare as he passed by, the purple flame highlighting the darkness in his eyes. Animals strayed away, monsters watching him from their hideouts as he weaved through a path.

The entrance to the Underworld was tucked away quite well, if it went for the flame he would have walked right past it.

The ground was dry as month old bones, all life other than Jason sucked out of it. He could hear the howls of the damned echo around him as he descended to the land of the dead. The flame did little to warm him, only offering harsh tinted light. He kept his eyes forward, holding his head high and his sword at ease.

When he stepped out of the cave, he found himself within the walls of Erebos, the rivers being nothing to worry about.

He didn’t look around, just locked his eyes on the dark palace in the distance. His stomach ached from the lack of food, his throat choked and parched, but he weaved through the damned and the souls of Asphodel, the purple flame deflecting the souls like water deflects oil.

Soon, his feet hit the cobblestone path to the Garden of Persephone, and he held his breath as he walked through.

The doors opened for him, and closed behind him. The flame bent and twisted, telling him which corridor to take.

Soon, he was face to face with a god who found himself impressed.

“You offer your sword in exchange for a soul?” Hades repeated.

“A soul whom Hekate is very fond of.” Jason confirmed.

Persephone poked her husband’s arm.

“I… suppose I can agree with her terms. But remember, young hero…” Jason found himself flattered at that title. “If you turn back before you reach the crossroads, Percy will never become alive. His soul will burn up and dissolve into the River Styx.”

“I… I understand.”

“Jason… I wish you luck.” Hades held his hand out and the sword flew to him. “You can turn back now, but know that after you leave this room, you can NOT turn back.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

With that, Jason turned and left the throne room. A shiver tingled up his spine, and he almost turned back.

But he didn’t. He walked past Tantalus without a second glance. He let his flame direct him back through the Fields of Asphodel. The damned mocked him - ‘He lied, she lied. Your love will never come back, you have failed.’

He didn’t listen. His feet padded up the slope, the cold encasing him and the shiver on his spine tingled with warmth.

The night was young when he entered the mortal world, the moon low in the eastern sky. The flame flickered and showed him the direction - he followed it.

He sang softly as he walked. He knew the story that was repeating right now - Orpheus and Eurydice, only now it wasn’t a son of Calliope leading his wife to the mortal world, it was a mortal man leading his prince to a road that split 3 ways.

He wasn’t going to look back. He hated that he didn’t know if this was a joke, the gods were known for joking on and pranking mortals favoured by others, but he knew that shiver was more than a feeling - it was a soul. And that soul would burn away if he made one wrong move.

His eyes grew heavier the closer he got. He yawned a couple of times, almost shifting off his path. But he counted his steps. One thousand ninety four, One thousand seven hundred and ten, Three thousand and two.

He forced his focus on something energising - the fire in Percy’s eyes when he performed his first complex sword technique right. The small laugh he made when Jason tripped on air. The curls in his hair that he always fussed over.

And other things, Jason had a lot to think about. He hadn’t known the prince for longer than a month, but he felt as if they were lifelong friends.

His feet hit gravel, and the flame when dark.

“Ja… Jason?”

Jason stiffened. In front of him was a doorway made of stone slabs.

“You… walked through the land of the dead… for me?”

Jason turned to see Percy hovering three feet in front of him, close enough to touch. He waited for him to burn up. He waited, and waited.

“Yeah… I did.” His voice cracked. Percy engulfed him in a hug, his skin materialising on contact. Jason held him close, tears welling up in his eyes.

Shouts were heard and both of them turned south just in time to see Rhode run through the South Hedgestone and engulf the two in a hug.

“Percy, oh my gods. You’re alive. Jason, Hazel told me what you were going to do and-” Rhode’s words blurred together. Percy’s eyes crossed and glazed over, Jason having to pry the older girl off her brother.

“Rhode, let him rest, he just came back.” Jason chided. A tall man in a general’s armour walked up to them, taking his helmet off.

“We brought a carriage, you and the prince should probably ride in it as we take you… back to the palace.”

Jason glanced at Percy, who smiled weakly.

“Is there any wine?” His voice was small, but Jason couldn’t help by smile.

So did the general. “Yes, my lord.”

“Frank, you’re the best.” Percy tried to step forward, but collapsed into Jason’s arms. “Oh… hi.”

“Hi.” Jason smiled. Percy smiled back up at him, and let himself be carried to the carriage, the army of men parting for them.

The next few years passed and Jason found himself alone in a room lit only by a lamp behind a jug of wine.

He figured it out the morning after he brought Percy back. Those paths might not have been what Percy wanted, but all of them will happen. Jason bargained with Hekate and went to the sea. An army marched north to meet them, not to fight but to retrieve.

Percy still looked down at the coliseum, bored of the fighting. And looking at the jug of wine now, Jason was regretting the fact he didn’t realise it sooner.

“You’ve done well.” A voice broke the silence. Jason looked up to see a woman with black curls over her deep brown skin.

“Juno.” he smiled. “I haven’t seen you in years.”

The queen smiled. “I’m sure I’ve missed much. You wear my ring on your left hand now. Are you married?”

Jason simply nodded, using his thumb to feel the rim of the ring on his left hand. The lotus glowed happily in the presence of the goddess.

“That’s good.” She smiled. “You deserve it.”

“I want to thank you, my queen. I… I followed your advice, to understand what my heart wants.”

Juno shook her head. “Do not thank me, my dear. Thank yourself. And your king, who is currently expecting you at a very… special place.”

Jason’s smile widened. “Of course.” With this, the goddess flickered away and Jason stood up, grabbing the clear jug of wine.

It didn’t take him long to reach the sandy flooring of the coliseum, where a man was practicing with a sword. The blade cut through the air smoothly, and only paused when the owner noticed Jason.

“You brought wine?” Percy noticed the jug. Jason smiled.

“I don’t think we need it tonight.”

Jason took Percy’s hand and left the jug of wine in the sand as the happily ran off to a more closed off location.

A hand picked the jug of wine up, weighing it in her palm.

Aphrodite smiled up at the entrance of the corridor the couple ran off to.

“Some stories do deserve happy endings, I suppose.”

#fanfiction #in honour of #tagging people #jercy #jercy fanfiction #jercy fanfic #pjo fanfiction #pjo fanfic #slash #writing #my writing #cobblestone swords

134 notes · View notes