Chapter Text
“Decay exists as an extant form of life.”
Hazel bolted up in a cold sweat, gripping the silk sheets of her luxurious bed so tightly her knuckles turned white. Her mouth tasted of oil. She reached over to her dark oak bedside table and grabbed a cup of water, ignoring how terribly her hands trembled.
The grandfather clock across the room from her told her it was only one in the morning. At sunrise, all of the Grisha in the Little Palace would gather in the courtyard for the late Colonel’s memorial. Her recurring nightmare had been haunting her nights for as long as she had been in the Little Palace, but had stopped for two weeks. Now it was back.
She gulped down the water to wash out her mouth and slipped out of bed. Hazel paced around her room, trying to calm her beating heart, but the feeling of oil in her lungs, the feeling of dirt in her mouth and eyes, it never went away.
The Summoner stood in the center of her giant room and put her hands on her head, slightly tugging at her hair, trying to take deep breaths. Still wasn’t working. Hazel silently left her bedroom and tip-toed down the halls of the Little Palace until she stopped in front of another door and knocked quietly.
She heard a shuffling noise on the other side and a sleepy looking Frank cracked the door open. He rubbed his eyes and smiled at her softly. “How can I help you?”
“Dream’s back.” Hazel whispered and hugged herself.
The Shu man nodded and opened the door to let her in, not commenting on how she made a beeline for his bed and sat herself down. Hazel pulled her knees to her chest and stared at Frank’s wall, trying to wipe the nightmare from her mind. The bed dipped where Frank climbed on and he gently put a blanket over Hazel’s head.
They sat in silence as Hazel finally started to calm down. She scooted under the blanket so that she was laying on her side and laughed softly as Frank did the same, sticking his head under the blanket to smile at her.
“Feeling better?” He whispered in Zemeni. It was broken and his accent was horrendous, but that only made it more endearing.
Hazel nodded, suddenly self conscious of her hair before she realized that the pillow she rested against had a satin pillowcase. “You didn’t change it back?” She whispered back in Zemeni as well, her accent vastly different from his, but still awful.
Frank shrugged. “Had a feeling you might need it again.”
She giggled and curled up under the blanket even more. Frank shifted so that he could lay his open hand on the bed between them. Hazel laced her fingers with his larger ones and found herself falling asleep again. His hands were warm like his smile. They may have been outsiders to the Grisha of the Little Palace, but they had each other. He whispered something to her in Shu right as her consciousness faded, but she didn’t understand. She figured it was nice since his words were accompanied by a small smile. She could ask him what he said in the morning.
Percy didn’t go to the memorial. Hazel and Frank had tried to invite him, but he declined. He didn’t want to intrude on their mourning. In fact, in the days leading up to the service, Percy kept to himself in his room. He had food and books delivered to his bedroom and didn’t interact with any other Grisha besides Pranjal’s occasional check-up.
Out of his window, he could see the colorful keftas of the Grisha crowding the courtyard as a number of people gave speeches. He had opened his window to sit in it and listen and noticed that not a single member of Jason’s family spoke. Reyna gave a speech, that shady priest gave a speech, Pranjal gave a speech, an Alkemi whose name Percy couldn’t remember gave a speech, it seemed to get pretty emotional.
He must have been special to them.
Percy watched them and itched at his palm. He had discovered a small scar on it that morning. It looked old. He wondered how he got it, who or what hurt him, if whoever he left behind was having a memorial for him too. Did Annabeth miss him?
The crowd dispersed. Percy noticed that Nico stood next to Reyna alone, his black kefta making him stand out against the crowd of blue, red and purple. He was sure that he knew the pale boy, but how? Why did the small of his back itch when he thought about it?
Someone knocked on his door. Percy slid out of the window, passed his discarded kefta that lay on his couch, and pulled the door open to see the muscular Gisha in the cream colored kefta .
“You’re Michael, right?” Percy remembered him from dinner three days ago.
Michael looked genuinely surprised that Percy remembered his name. “Uh-yes that is me. Colonel Ramírez-Arellano has requested your presence in her study at your earliest convenience.”
“Got it! Thanks, Mike!” The Tidemaker smiled. Michael had another look of surprise as he bowed and stepped away. Percy snickered to himself as he heard the muscular man whisper the nickname in awe as he stood at the other end of the hallway, waiting for the green eyed man to join him. Percy considered tugging his kefta on, but decided against it. He did, however, grab Riptide and strap the sword to his belt. He knew that he never went anywhere without it.
Michael made no comment on the Tidemaker’s attire and led Percy down a series of hallways and staircases to a room not far from the library. The door was cracked open and Michael knocked before entering.
“Colonel Ramírez-Arellano, Percy Jackson.” He bowed politely and stepped aside. Percy ducked his head in to see Reyna sitting behind a large desk cluttered with papers. Her usual braid was fringing slightly and her eyes were red.
“Ah, good day, Mister Jackson. I hope I didn’t disturb you.” She stood up to shake his hand.
Percy took it with a smile. “Not at all, and you can just call me Percy. How can I help you, boss?”
She glanced to the door and Michael shut it behind him, leaving the two of them alone. As soon as he was gone, Reyna snapped her fingers twice. Percy jumped as two metallic greyhounds appeared from behind the desk, one made of gold and one made of silver.
“Saints above— where did those come from?!”
Reyna laughed and stroked the golden dog’s head. “This is Aurum, the silver one is Argentum.”
“Did you make them yourself?” He got over his initial shock and beamed at the dogs.
“I did. Michael is scared of dogs, so I keep them behind the desk whenever he’s around.”
“Oh yeah, Mike is great. Super cool guy.” Percy looked around the bookshelves lining the study. “Hey, why does he wear the servants’ colors?”
Reyna sat down and folded her hands on her desk. “Because that’s what he is. Instead of training and participating in combat, Mister Kahale elected to remain on our staff as a full-time Tailor. The King himself thinks very highly of Michael’s talents, we are lucky to have him here. In fact, I believe he is Brother Octavian’s personal valet.”
“Why does a priest need a valet?”
“Beats me. I see you’re not wearing your kefta .”
Percy looked down at the simple dress shirt and pants he found in his wardrobe and shrugged. “Oh, right, yeah it just felt off. I didn’t want to wear your uniform on the day of a memorial. It seemed disrespectful.”
Reyna nodded and leaned back in her plush chair to stare at a bookshelf to her right. “I can completely understand that. However, I do request that you don it in the future. After all, I would like you to participate in our training once it starts again.”
“You want me to join the Second Army?”
“I do.” She cast him a sly smile. “In fact, in two days, I am organizing an activity for all the Grisha in the Little Palace. We call them ‘War Games’. Basically, we divide the army in half and pit them against each other to practice offensive and defensive tactics. I want you on our offensive side.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “You want me to jump in and fistfight a bunch of children.”
Reyna giggled and leaned forward to rest her arms on her desk, the gemstone eyes of her dogs gleaming curiously. “You will be allotted the usage of your sword.”
“Well that makes it so much better!” Percy laughed sarcastically and put a hand on Riptide’s handle.
The Colonel shook her head with a smile. “Look, Mister Jacks--Percy, I’ve noticed how you’ve been keeping in your chambers all this time. Understandably so, I get it. You brought volcra to our front door. Think of this as an opportunity to send out a peace offering to the Second Army as a way to pick them up out of their time of mourning.”
“Yeah, speaking of which, how are you holding up?”
“Excuse me?” Reyna blinked.
“I heard your speech, it seemed to get pretty emotional. You doing alright?” Percy frowned and his face creased with worry.
“I’m doing alright, thank you. I thought I saw you hanging out a window.” She chuckled.
“So while the army is taking a week off, you’re in here working?”
She sighed deeply and rubbed her forehead with a slight nod. “Yes, well, being lifted on a pedestal of leadership means that the good of the Second Army comes first, emotions come second. I need to set an example of strength at all times, especially right now.”
“But you’re still a human being with human emotions. You deserve to grieve, too.” His expression turned kind. Somehow, he felt like he was repeating words someone had said to him at one point.
Reyna regarded him curiously despite her now slightly trembling lip. “Tell me, Percy, by chance do you remember losing a loved one?”
In that instant, so many memories flooded into Percy’s mind like they were just waiting to escape. It almost hurt from how many there were. A little girl who looked a lot like Nico waving goodbye to him, a beautiful woman wearing a crown of leaves saying she could see the stars, a handsome Zemeni man standing on a ship in the distance being surrounded by enemies before the ship exploded into flames, a gorgeous young woman with half of her face melted off whispering about seeing her lover again, a man wearing an eyepatch telling him to remember a promise before throwing himself off a roof and finally, a blonde man setting a scorpion into Percy’s hand, the claw-mark scar over his face staring him down cruelly. Percy itched his palm-scar. Who were all those people to him? Why was he remembering them now?
Reyna studied his face and her expression of sorrow deepened. “I see. I won’t ask anything further from you. You are not obligated to join in the War Games, but I hope to see you there, if only to quell anxieties.”
He nodded and left without another word.
Hazel was ecstatic to see Percy at lunch that day. Frank was busy in the library, so she was quick to latch onto the Tidemaker’s arm and drag him over to the Summoner’s table.
“I saw you go into Reyna’s office, how did it go?”
Percy ran over his new memories once more before shrugging. “She said I’m joining the War Games on the offensive side.”
Hazel nearly squealed. “That’s my team! We’re gonna have so much fun!”
“Have you… ever seen combat before?” Percy found himself wondering aloud.
She shook her head, her curls bouncing as she did. “Nope, not yet. Since we can’t figure out what I summon, I haven’t been cleared for active duty. Same with Frank, but I know he was in a few fights before he came to live here. I heard his mom was in the First Army.”
Percy thanked a servant who set food down in front of them and took a sip of water. “And what about your parents? Didn’t you say you and Nico are half-siblings?”
He watched as Hazel quickly chugged her water before clearing her throat. “Oh, I’m an orphan.”
“Then how would you know about your dad—“
“Hey look, there’s Frank!” She shot up from her chair to point him out.
Frank walked into the giant dining room with Brother Octavian basically hanging off of his shoulder. By the expression on Frank’s face, their conversation wasn’t a nice one.
As they caught sight of Hazel’s smile, Octavian whispered one last thing into Frank’s ear before peeling off and vanishing into the crowd of hungry Grisha.
“What did he want?” Hazel asked with no hidden venom once Frank sat down on the other side of her to eat.
“You’ll see.”
The other Grisha all took their seats as Octavian struck his goblet with a fork. “Everyone, settle down, please.”
He smiled politely as the conversations all stopped for him. “It is with great honor that I announce the captains for this weekend’s War Game!”
Frank slid down on his seat.
The priest was beaming. “The captain for the attacking team is our very own Frank Zhang!”
Even though Percy clapped, the rest of the room did not. Some Grisha even turned pale. Frank let out a small groan.
“And the leader of the defending team is… me!”
The room went wild. Half cheers, half outrage. Frank somehow sunk even lower in his seat. Percy furrowed his eyebrows and leaned over to Hazel.
“So… what’s happening?”
Hazel shook her head before pushing her food back to drop her face onto the table. “We’re doomed, that’s what’s happening.”
She eventually did explain what Octavian leading the opposite team meant to Percy after lunch was over and they had some free time.
“So basically the War Game is gonna be Octavian and his years of studying war theory versus Frank’s inexperience.”
“I thought Brother Octavian was a priest.” Perch sat himself down under a tree in the Little Palace’s courtyard while Hazel dangled herself from a branch.
“He is, but he grew up in the Little Palace with Reyna, Jason, and their group. They’d all take turns running the War Games and Octavian is even a war advisor to the King sometimes.”
“Huh.” Percy’s eyes went up to the clouds floating lazily overhead. “So… why pick Frank?”
“Because he’s an easy target. Can’t bully me because I’m related to the Darkling, so he’ll bully Frank instead. Maybe it’s because Frank can’t heal, maybe it’s because Frank’s Shu. Maybe it’s because Frank’s fat. It doesn’t matter; Octavian is a big bully who’s robes are too big for his tiny head. That’s why we gotta win: to rub it in Octavian’s dumb ugly face!”
Percy snorted. “That’s the spirit, so walk me through how War Games usually run.”
The two of them talked for hours until the sun set on the Little Palace and Hazel excused herself to her room. Percy wandered around for a bit more until he found himself in the library. He figured that curfew didn’t really apply to him - since he wasn’t actually a soldier - and was pleasantly surprised to find Marcus the Alkemi bent over a book at a desk with a candle illuminating the pages. They hadn’t been officially introduced, but his check-in with Pranjal earlier that day had confirmed that Marcus was the one who had been investigating his jurda.
“What’s up, doc?” Percy found a chair next to the desk and sat himself down.
Marcus shrugged and itched the side of his neck. “Just burning the midnight oil, or really, nine o’clock oil. Reyna said you’re joining the War Games?”
“Yeah, on the attacking side.”
“Nice, we’re on the same team.” He smiled at Percy before looking back at his book. “Ever played a War Game before?”
Percy shook his head. “Never. Hazel gave me the rundown of how it works.”
“Good, you’ll need it. Any advice from a relative of the Darkling is good advice, even if it’s Hazel. I still can’t believe that Frank was picked as team captain.”
“What’s wrong with Frank? He’s a good shot from what I’ve heard.”
Marcus shrugged and closed his book. “He’s a Corprikali that can’t heal or influence emotions or tailor. I know his mom was a First Army soldier and he’s good with a rifle, but Grisha don’t use guns.”
“If he can’t do anything, how did he get put in the Second Army?” Percy asked.
“Beats me. Every Grisha test that children take is different and every result is also different. Hazel was brought here by Sir Nico a month ago and he vouched for her, but Frank is a mystery. Don’t get me wrong, he’s the nicest guy you’ll ever meet, but him being our team captain is just another way that dickhead Octavian is rubbing in Jason’s death.” The Alkemi glared at the candle next to him. “Our team hasn’t won a single game since Jason left for West Ravka, even with Reyna sitting out and us rotating captains. I wanna hope that Frank can turn things around, I really do, but he’s, you know, Frank.”
Percy nodded and scooted his chair forward, thinking of ways to change the topic. “You’re the one who’s hiding the jurda from me, right? Learn anything new about it?”
Marcus looked like he appreciated the change. “You’re not getting your hands on it, buddy. Pranjal’s orders. But yeah, I think I’ve learned a few things about it, here-” He reopened his book and slid it across the desk to Percy. “It’s a Noyvi Zem plant, like a flower. Mostly grown in Crofton and shipped across the True Sea to Kerch before it’s sent to the mainland. It’s like a stimulant.”
“Alright, so how did it mess me up so badly but not kill me?”
“Beats me. What you ate wasn’t exactly jurda, but it wasn’t not jurda, if you understand what I’m getting at. Most jurda is put in teas to enhance its abilities, but this stuff is off the charts. I’ve sent letters to friends on the front lines to see if they’ve seen anything like it, we’ll see if they say anything helpful.”
“By any chance would it mess with my memories?”
“Reyna mentioned to me that you got some of your memories back this morning.” Marcus closed his book a second time. “While extreme usage of jurda could cause neurological damage, I don’t think that it has anything to do with your memories. It’s entirely plausible that the circumstances that forced you to eat so much jurda are part of the reason for your amnesia. If you don’t mind me asking, what all did you remember today?”
Percy shrugged. “Reyna asked if I’d ever lost someone and suddenly, I remembered watching a bunch of people die or something.”
The Alkemi was silent before nodding. “My theory still holds, especially if traumatic memories are being revealed with trigger words. I’m no expert in mental health, I’m just the science guy, but sitting down with a veteran Heartrender might help jog some more memories or at least get rid of any subconscious block you have.”
Percy sighed and stood, deciding to call it a night before his head spun from any more explanations. “I appreciate it, man. See you at the War Games.”
Hazel’s nightmare had only been back for two nights and she was already tired of it. She was standing in front of Frank’s door again with a coat wrapped around her and had raised her hand to knock when a cold presence appeared next to her.
“You know, members of the Second Army aren’t allowed to share chambers with each other.” Nico raised an eyebrow at her.
Hazel jumped and covered her squeak with her hand. “It’s not what you think!”
He smiled at her reaction. “Nightmare’s back?”
She nodded and the two started walking slowly back towards her room. Nico was still in his coal-black kefta from the memorial service that morning, not that he ever wore anything else. Hazel sometimes wondered if she would get one, it would be better than her embroidery-lacking blue one. She wouldn’t get so many weird looks if she wore black, she figured.
They got to her room and Nico plopped himself down on her couch and waited for her to sit next to him.
“I have to leave again.” He whispered despite the two being alone.
She sighed. “I know. Always busy for the Darkling.”
He looked like he wanted to disprove that, but held his tongue. Hazel wondered what went on in his head behind creased expressions and faraway looks.
“It’s not that I don’t want to be here, but there are things happening outside of our control and I need—“
Hazel hugged him, feeling him stiffen in her grasp. “It’s okay, really, but can you at least stay for the War Games? Frank’s our team captain.”
“I know, Reyna told me. Does it mean that much to you?”
She pulled back and nodded. “It does, Frank’s my best friend and I really think we have a chance with this Percy Jackson guy.”
Saying his name made Nico’s eyebrows scrunch together slightly. Hazel wanted to know what that meant. She wanted to know so much about this boy who claimed to be her brother by their father. He certainly looked just like their father. And even though he was running around Ravka on various missions and errands, she could see how hard he was trying to be there for Hazel. After all, what other family did they have, especially after all they had been through?
“I’ve… assessed his abilities. You’re in good hands.” Is all Nico said about Percy.
And he left. And Hazel was alone in her dark room again. The moon peeked through the curtains curiously and the high ceilings of her chambers felt infinitely higher. She curled up into a ball on her couch and hugged herself to try to feel smaller.
She ended up falling asleep on the couch and was awoken from a dreamless sleep by a servant collecting dirty laundry. Hazel cleaned herself up in her bathroom and joined her friends at breakfast, wanting to forget everything that didn’t focus on tomorrow’s War Game.
They ate and met with other veteran members of the team to discuss strategy, Frank standing at the head of a table in the library with Hazel, Percy, Marcus, and other Grisha that Hazel recognized, but didn’t know the names of yet. The table was covered in a map of the Little Palace, the northern woods of the entire estate where a mock fort was constructed being where the siege would take place.
Frank pointed to the gate’s illustration. “The majority of their defenses will be posted at the gate, where the wall is the thinnest. We need to find a way to break it down and get someone through to the other side.”
“Oh, like Capture The Flag?” Percy asked from Frank’s left side.
“Err, sort of. The goal of the War Game is invasion and conquer, we just need one soldier to scale the wall of the defenders’ fort and we win… not that our team has won in months.”
Marcus clapped him on the shoulder and pulled a map of the fort out from under the map of the palace. “Cheer up, I’ve known Octavian since we were in Basic, he’s good at following up bravado with substance.”
Hazel rolled her eyes. “How’s that supposed to help us?”
“It means that Octavian is a I-do-what-I-say sort of leader.” Marcus explained. “He’ll brag about an iron-tight defense and it’s true, his defense will be iron-tight. He won’t pull any tricks while on the defensive side, he only has to wait us out.”
Everyone looked to Frank, who had picked up the map of the fort and was holding it close to his face. There was a minute of silence before Frank put the map down.
“We’re going to charge in head-on.” He said.
The library erupted into shouts and protests. Hazel smacked her hands together to get everyone to shut up before turning to Frank with wide eyes.
“Saints above, have you lost your mind?!”
“Let me explain, we charge in head-on as a distraction and send a singular runner through the gate once there’s an opening. Percy, you’ve run across Ravka in a single night, think you’re up for it?”
Percy snorted and started to walk away from the table. “Sure, let me just get some jur-”
Marcus pulled him back by the collar of his kefta . “No you don’t.”
“Aww…”
“Percy?” Frank asked again.
“Yeah, no, yeah, I’ll do it.” Percy agreed. “What’s everyone else doing?”
Frank began to explain his plan in more detail. The rest of the team looked a little more hopeful, but nobody really got all that excited. Hazel didn’t know how to boost morale. She trusted Frank’s plan, she really did, but against the King of Ravka’s personal advisor? Even Nico seemed wary of their odds, which wasn’t a good sign. She looked to Percy to try to see what he was thinking. His expression was focused on Frank, listening and paying attention. He looked like he was familiar with combat and what to expect, which Hazel thought was a dumb realization to have. The guy literally showed up at the Little Palace with volcra chasing him and a sword in his hand, of course he had some sort of fighting skill, but this was sober Percy. She wondered if he had gotten any of his memories back.
She decided to ask him after the team left the library to enjoy the few hours they had before dinner. Hazel caught Percy’s arm and pulled him through the shelves until she was sure they were out of earshot of the others.
“So how have you been? Gotten any memories back?” She asked outright.
Percy scratched his palm. “Some, I think. Reyna asked me if I’d ever lost anyone when we talked yesterday and I got a bunch of flashbacks. Marcus told me that he thinks my amnesia is traumatic or something.”
“I get that, I used to have something similar.” Hazel admitted. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Nah, it’s fine. I don’t remember who the dead people were anyways.” His sea green eyes didn’t meet Hazel’s. “I’m sure it’ll all come back eventually.”
“That’s good to hear, I had to sit with Healers and Nico for weeks before my head cleared up.” She laughed softly. “I, uh… had an accident not too long ago.”
Percy frowned. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
Hazel backtracked, thinking she was revealing too much. “It’s really nothing too big, I promise!”
“Alright, but remember that us weirdos stick together, okay?” He gave her a reassuring pat on her arm and left.
Frank appeared where Percy had been with a curious look. “Everything okay?”
“Oh yeah, things are peachy.” She smiled.
“Good to hear. Nervous for tomorrow?”
Hazel nodded. There was no point in dishonesty there. “I think Percy’s the only one who isn’t.”
Frank agreed with her and leaned against a bookshelf. “What do you think? Is my plan that dumb?”
“No, your plan is great…” Hazel tried. “It’s just… not very Second Army and it relies a lot on luck.”
“Think you can convince Nico to join our side?”
“Not a chance, he’s with Reyna and sitting out.”
“Nuts.”
She lightly punched his arm. “Cheer up. If it all goes to hell, I’ll ask the kitchen to make us a nice peach cobbler. We deserve it.”
Frank laughed. “Yeah, we do. Changing topics, how’d you sleep last night?”
“Uh… not too bad?” Hazel recalled her not-talk with Nico. “Had the nightmare, Neeks intercepted me on my way to your room and all I could do before he bolted was ask him to stay for the War Game.”
“Nice, we can invite him for cobbler.”
A snort escaped her as she imagined Nico sitting at the head of the triangle table with a giant plate of dessert in front of him. Seeing that Frank was being completely serious with his suggestion made her laugh even harder. Her laughter was contagious and the two shared a giggle before the gong for dinner rang and they made their way to the gilded dining room, shoulders bumping and hands brushing for minute yet still electrifying moments.