Chapter 1: Jason
Chapter Text
Gray water slapped the side of the wharf lazily as storm clouds floated overhead. A sturdy looking blonde man in a blue kefta bit his lip as his eyes scanned the horizon. The silver embroidery of his kefta looked dull as the sun hid behind the clouds. His lips had a thin scar cutting vertically down the right side of his mouth. On the other side of his face, tucked just under his jaw, was a wolf’s tooth melded to his skin. A Grisha’s amplifier.
The sea was restless, anxious for something to happen. The Squaller watching the waves could feel it. The air was buzzing with anticipation, but for what? What thing laid beyond the True Sea that could possibly be more dangerous than the horrors stored in the mainland of Ravka?
“Colonel Grace!” A Heartrender with red lips permanently stained by wine jogged up the side of the wharf, his red kefta standing out among the dull colors of the day. “A message from the Fold!”
The Heartrender handed a folded piece of paper to the Colonel and stood at attention. The blonde man read it over and smiled at the soldier. “Thank you, Dakota, tell your men to ready my horse and have Captain Gwendolyn take over my duties while I attend to this.”
Dakota nodded briskly and returned his officer’s smile. “You be careful out on the Unsea, Jason. Wouldn’t want a volcra to scoop you up.”
Jason snorted dryly. “Or drüskelle , or Shu doctors or whatever goes bump in the night. I’ll be fine, man. You, on the other hand, need to quell your drinking. I can see the ring around your mouth.”
The Heartrender laughed and clapped the Colonel on the shoulder familiarly. “No, man! This is Fjerdan grape juice! No fermentation in sight!”
“Since when did Fjerda make a drink that wouldn’t put a grown man under the table?” Jason raised an eyebrow.
Dakota shrugged and started to walk off. “Beats me, but it sure makes drinking contests with Bobby all the more fun! I’ll catch you later, man!”
Jason chuckled and turned his eyes back to the True Sea for just a minute more before returning to the Second Army’s camp where a beautiful Stallion awaited him. A young woman wearing a purple kefta handed Jason the reins and watched as he hoisted himself up. “You be careful now, Jace. If you get gobbled up by a volcra, I call dibs on your stuff.”
The Colonel laughed for real and nudged the woman with his foot playfully. “Careful, Gwen, I’m not too sure how valuable my things are. Dakota told you that you’re going to be Acting Colonel while I’m gone, right?”
Gwen nodded, her light hair falling out of its loose hair bun. She looked tired. Jason frowned and held up his reins. “Hey, Captain, get some rest before taking any further command. This is just an outpost, no need to go draconic on them.”
She snorted. “I’m not Octavian.”
“Still.” He nudged her again. “Give the company your best and only your best. Show them the might of a Fabrikator!”
She gave him a salute and Jason snapped the reins of his horse, the majestic creature taking off across the West Ravka countryside in record time. Tempest the stallion had been specially bred for cross-country trips, but had failed out of the Little Palace’s program for temperament problems. Jason was the only one who could tame her, earning the horse the name “Tempest” and Jason the nickname “Storm-Squaller” for a few weeks.
Jason and Tempest raced East towards the giant wall of shadows that split Ravka in half. The Unsea, the Fold, this rift had a few names. Ultimately, it was a graveyard. When Jason first crossed the Fold, he was one of three survivors of that cursed expedition. The other two became his most trusted Captains; Gwen and Dakota. Now, Jason had made the cross twelve times, evidenced by the scars on his forearm. Most Grisha didn’t mark how many times they crossed the Unsea, that was a trend shared by the magicless First Army, but Jason always looked down at his arm whenever he doubted his ability to succeed at a task. 12 times across the Fold? Nothing could take him down.
The Squaller rode for one day and one night, only stopping to let Tempest rest and to nibble on a piece of bread. Jason didn’t get hungry often, a remnant of his childhood before taking refuge in the Little Palace. When the Ravkan Army’s base in Novo-Kribirsk appeared in Jason’s view, he snapped Tempest’s reins one last time and his trusty steed pushed him the last of the way.
Awaiting him at the base stood a half dozen Grisha guarded by nervous looking First Army soldiers. Jason recognized the Grisha, but couldn’t put names to faces yet. The Colonel slid down from his horse and smiled at the soldiers waiting for him. “So, what seems to be the problem? Your letter was urgent, was it not?”
His welcoming party led him to a Grisha tent where a Zemeni man in a purple kefta paced back and forth nervously.
“Blaise, what seems to be the problem?” Jason recognized the Durist.
Blaise halted his pacing and stood at attention for the Squaller before him. “Colonel, sir! I’m glad to see that you arrived safely!”
Jason nodded and let the Fabrikator relax. “I am too, now tell me what your letter was all about. Something relating to crossing the Fold?”
The Zemeni man nodded and cast his eyes towards the Unsea that laid beyond the walls of his grand tent. “We’ve caught wind of smugglers crossing the Fold on train tracks and then escaping to Kerch through the True Sea. If we can nip this in the bud and find their tracks, then we don’t need to worry about people illegally crossing the Fold.”
“And why do you need my help?” Jason looked around the tent. “It seems that you have this all covered.”
Blaise shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Well, sir, you’re the highest ranking member of both the First and Second Armies in West Ravka currently. It’s more of a show of force to discourage any further unsanctioned crossing and human trafficking.”
Jason nodded and folded his arms across his chest. “What time do we expect to make contact with the train?”
“Tomorrow, sir, at dawn. The trains usually arrive right before sunrise or right after sundown.”
“So you’ve made contact with this train before?” Jason raised an eyebrow.
Blaise stiffened again. “Well, we’ve made contact with someone who was on the train, not the train itself. This train specializes in transporting Grisha fleeing the draft here to the West.”
The Colonel nodded again and uncrossed his arms. “Very well. Prepare me another horse. Rally your required men and we can take the train tonight at dusk.”
The Zemeni Durist’s eyebrows shot up. “Tonight?”
“Yes, you said that they arrive just after sundown, did you not?” Jason smiled. “Why not just get it over with? I need no time to prepare, just say the word and we can ride out.”
Blaise returned his smile and bowed. “Yes sir! Thank you sir!”
Jason and Blaise rode ahead of the small platoon of First and Second Army soldiers along the length of the Fold as the sun set to their right. It was important to catch the smugglers before they boarded boats along the river that would allow them to escape out to Kerch.
The boy who told Blaise of this entire operation was a discharged Heartrender named Bryce with a twisted smile. He wore a bloody and torn kefta that he refused to get cleaned even when Jason met with him during dinner in the camp’s jail and offered to have it fixed for him. He put Jason on edge with the calm way he described the volcra that chased the train he crossed the Unsea on - the hidden train Jason was currently riding to meet. The Colonel especially didn’t like how Bryce described the eyes of a volcra with eerie detail.
Yeah, he could see why this guy was removed from the Second Army.
Blaise put up a fist to signal for the Army to halt. Jason pulled his borrowed horse to a stop and listened to the air. The shadows of the Fold billowed just a hundred yards to the left. Sometimes, lightning crashed within the black wall. Jason shivered in his blue kefta .
“We’re here.” Blaise stared at the edge of a track just barely obscured by the shadows.
Half of the soldiers dismounted, now moving in darkness as the sun vanished beyond the horizon. Jason remained on his horse for the dramatic effect that his presence would bring. It had to be a show of force that would make all smugglers wary of crossing the Fold in the future. Blaise, a few otkazat'sya with rifles and three Grisha moved closer to the tracks. Once they secured that everything was clear, Jason and his remaining guards also closed in.
The twelve lines on the Colonel’s forearm tingled with every step his mount took closer to the Unsea. It was only a matter of time before the volcra swooped out and slaughtered every one of them. It wouldn’t be hard, Jason thought, for the winged demons to attack as soon as the first Inferni used any amount of Small Science. One spark to ignite their powers and everything would be over.
No, the volcra never leave the Unsea. No matter what happens out here, we have nothing to fear from the monsters. I have to be courageous for these men. Snap out of it.
The sun completely disappeared and the air was filled with an awful sound of metal scrapping metal. Weapons and hands were readied as a metal box rolled out of the shadows of the Fold and came to a screeching halt at the end of the tracks. Blaise shouted for those inside the compartment to reveal themselves. Jason took notice of a symbol etched onto the front of the train, a cross with the shorter top part of the vertical line replaced with an oval. It reminded him of images he had seen in a book about Novyi Zem in the Little Palace. It was a symbol for life.
A hatch on the side of the train swung open and three people stepped out. The first with her hands in the air was a young woman with light hair in a braid over her shoulder. She didn’t seem nervous by the ambush she just rolled into and judging by her soot stained clothing, Jason figured she was the conductor.
The two behind her looked scared out of their minds. The second person out of the train was a short boy with messy hair and an anxious smile. Behind him was a dark haired woman who had eyes that seemed to change colors every time Jason blinked.
Jason nudged his horse towards the three prisoners. “I am Colonel Jason Grace of His Majesty’s Second Army. The three of you are hereby under arrest for smuggling human lives across the Unsea without the authority of His Majesty’s Army.”
The blonde woman rolled her eyes while the two behind her, clearly refugees-now-fugitives, trembled. Blaise jerked his head towards the three and the First Army soldiers moved in to bind the criminals. Jason pushed it out of his mind how the three he was arresting were close to - if not exactly - his age.
Jason peered down from his horse at the three. “Tell me, what are your names?”
The short boy squeaked. “I’m Leo and this is Pip--”
The dark haired girl elbowed Leo to shut him up while the blonde woman yawned. Jason turned his attention to her. “Do you think that this is amusing? Undermining the authority of King--”
“Yeah, Saints to all that rubbish.” The blonde woman spat at the ground under Jason’s horse. “I’m just making an honest living helping these poor kids get somewhere safer.”
“What could possibly be safer than the cities of Ravka?”
“Should I name a few places or should I take that as rhetorical?”
The wind shifted and something tingled to the side of Jason’s head. He looked over to the river only a couple dozen yards ahead and held his breath.
An arrow, nearly invisible in the growing night, shot from the bushes and took down a Grisha next to the train without a noise. There was no noise because it hit her in the neck. Blaise spun around and raised his arms with a shout.
“ Drüskelle! ”
How could drüskelle be this far south in Ravka? Jason didn’t have time to think before he heard the sound of a machine gun firing and two First Army soldiers went down, the ropes holding the prisoners in place falling slack and useless.
The blonde woman whistled and jumped back into her train, which started again and vanished into the Fold, leaving everyone behind. Jason called up a wind to blow all of the Fjerdan assassins into the river, but something struck his hand. Another arrow tore through the flesh of his left hand next to his pinkie finger. A round of bullets struck his kefta , knocking him down from his horse and onto the ground.
Jason’s vision blurred as the yellow haired witch-hunters rushed from the riverside where they had been hiding and began engaging in combat with his soldiers. There were no trees to hide behind and the horses all ran away. Jason tried to pull himself up, but found that his strength had left his body. It was all he could do to lift up his injured hand and examine the wound. Usually, an arrow grazing him would be nothing. He was a master Squaller with an amplifier, nothing could touch him! Yet, he could feel his strength being sapped from the wound.
Saints almighty, it’s poison!
As the world started to go even darker, he could see the two captured - now freed - teens hiding behind a rock while the drüskelle soldiers made a show of slaughtering his men. At some point, he saw Blaise sprint off in the direction of Novo-Kribirsk. Good, someone needed to live to tell the tale of this ambush. Jason almost swore that he saw the shadow of a ship sail into the river. Of course the Fjerdan fighters would have a ship waiting to take their prisoners up north to the Permafrost and the Ice Court. As the ship neared, Jason wished that the poison would kill him faster so that he wouldn’t have to endure the torture that would fall him if he were to be captured by the drüskelle .
Yet, even in his pain clouded mind, Jason noticed that something was off. None of the Fjerdan men were calling to this ship, which was too small to be a standard slaving ship like those he had battled before. This one had shorter sails and the wood that held the hull together was too light, not like the dark wooded trees of Fjerda.
The last images to flash across Jason’s mind were of the drüskelle screaming in their native tongue at the ship while people dressed in black leaped from the side of the vessel and began shooting Inferni flares at the assassins.
Grisha?
Jason woke up to his left hand throbbing painfully. His blue eyes fluttered open to a dingy light hanging above him while someone held his injured hand and moved it around.
“Where am I?” His throat was dry. He needed water.
A boy not much younger than Jason appeared above him with a smile. “Don’t worry, man, I’m almost done getting the poison out and then I’ll heal you right up!”
Jason wasn’t rocking, he wasn’t on any sort of ship. The boy working on him did not wear a kefta , he was not a Grisha with the Second Army. Thankfully, Jason’s blue kefta had not been removed. “Who are you?”
“You can call me Will, I’m the head Healer in this place.” His skin was sun-kissed with freckles and his smile was warm as he ran a delicate finger down the side of Jason’s left hand. With barely a tingle, the arrow wound closed itself up and vanished.
Jason was astonished. Healers in the Second Army had worked on him countless times and each time they used their magic, there was a sense of itchiness that came with their work. This was absolutely flawless! How was this Will kid not in the Second Army?
Wait, was Jason even still in Ravka?
“Where is ‘this place’?” Jason tried to ask again. He sat up on the ratty mattress he had been set on and looked around the dull room. It was small with only one other bed on the far wall.
Will shrugged and stood up, wiping his hands on his dirty shirt. His hair was yellow, probably had some Fjerdan blood, but he was distinctly Ravkan. “A small island off the coast of Ketterdam, I’m afraid. Just a little ways away from home?”
Kerch?! When Jason blacked out, he was at the far eastern end of West Ravka, literally right against the Fold! How in the Saints had he gotten here?!
Will noticed his alarm and put a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, relax, you were shaking and stuff when we found you on the mainland. I figured it was drüskelle poison. My boss wanted to leave you behind, being Second Army and all, but your buddies vouched for you.”
“Buddies?” Jason flexed the fingers on his now not-injured hand.
The Healer nodded and stepped back to the heavy door to the room to pull it open. Waiting outside were the two refugees that had taken the train through the Unsea. Their clothing was dirtier than before and the boy had somehow gotten soot on his forehead, but both wore the same worried expression.
Will let them come in and stepped outside, pulling the door shut behind him. “I’ll leave you all be for a bit, I’m going to go find my boss.”
As soon as they were alone, the boy named Leo fell to Jason’s side with wide eyes. “Hey I’m so sorry for saying that we’re buddies and stuff. It’s just that the mean lady was gonna leave you to die and even though you were going to arrest us, it just didn’t seem right, right?”
Jason smiled and swung his legs over the side of the bed, realizing that he was missing his left boot. “It’s alright, and thank you. I owe you for that. Both of you.”
The girl nodded and sat down on the bed across from Jason. “Well, my goal was to get to Ketterdam and now I’m here, so don’t worry about it. I’m sorry about the rest of your men though, I only saw the one Fabrikator get away before the ship left.”
So Blaise survived after all? That was good. Even so, Jason hung his head for the other soldiers who didn’t. May the Saints be gentle with their souls.
“Wow, way to kill the mood, Piper.” Leo scoffed and stood up. “Anyways, you’ve been out for like a day I think. I heard some of the dudes around here talking about throwing you into the sea for being Second Army, but not until you meet with the people who run this place.”
“I’m sorry, what ?!” Jason jumped up from the bed with wide eyes. “These criminals want me dead?!”
“Who said they were criminals?” Piper stood as well. “And yeah, you’re an officer for the Second Army, makes sense that an island full of off-grid Grisha would want to tie up any loose ends… I wasn’t supposed to say that.”
Leo rolled his eyes at her. “Wow, and you got onto me for flapping my jaw for mister blue-butt over here yesterday.”
Jason looked at the door. An island of off-grid Grisha? That sounded impossible. All Grisha were either living in the Little Palace or hunted by drüskelle or other Grisha-haters. If there was a community of Grisha hiding off the coast of Kerch, at least some mention of it would have reached him… right?
The door opened again and Will reappeared with a tough looking Shu man behind him. “Hey everyone, glad to see we’re all getting along. This is Sherman and he’s gonna take you to meet the boss now. Is that okay?”
Jason didn’t get a chance to answer as the Shu man pushed past Will and grabbed his arm roughly.
“Hey, get your hands off me!” Jason tried to pull his hands back to create a wind to push Sherman off of him, but the Shu man was faster, grabbing Jason’s free hand and lacing their fingers together forcefully so that he couldn’t use his best techniques. Leo and Piper jumped back as Jason tried to sweep Sherman’s legs from under him, but it felt like he was kicking a tree.
“Just what do they feed you here?” He yelped as Sherman began to drag him out of the room with ease, and Jason was not a small man to carry.
Will laughed and pat Sherman’s shoulder. “Whatever he wants and plenty of it!”
A bag was pulled over Jason’s head and a cord was tied around his hand, Sherman’s fingers still keeping his apart and Jason’s feet left the ground so that he couldn’t make a mental map of where he was going. After a few minutes, he was forcefully sat down in a cold metal chair that chilled him through his kefta and the bag was ripped off his head, revealing a dark room. Sherman stood at Jason’s side, hands still laced together to keep him from using his powers.
“You really like holding my hand, huh?”
A door in front of Jason opened and shut so quickly that he couldn’t see who entered. A horrible scrapping sound stopped just in front of him and a tiny lightbulb turned on right above his eyes.
Before him sat a beautiful young woman with stormy gray eyes and long, blonde curls that were only disrupted by a streak of gray. She wore a perfectly tailored dress shirt and black vest with an orange handkerchief tucked into the breast pocket. Her eyes looked like they had seen horrors beyond Jason’s imagination; and he had crossed the Fold twelve times.
“Sorry for all the theatrics, we run a tight ship around here.” Her voice was pleasant, but cold. Jason took notice of the knife strapped to her waist.
“Who are you?” He returned his gaze to her unnerving eyes.
She smiled crookedly, not unlike the discharged Heartrender Bryce, and leaned back in the chair she sat in, crossing one leg over another and giving Jason a good look at the underside of her polished shoes. “Not the most important thing on my list right now. Judging by your gaudy kefta , I take it you’re a Squaller. And judging by that ugly tumor on the side of your neck, a powerful one at that.”
Jason used his free hand to touch the amplifier embedded in his neck, the small wolf tooth that belonged to his true mother. “So? You should know that I’m an officer in His Majesty’s Second Army, one of only two Colonels. I am also now an eyewitness to a human smuggling operation that has been operating in total secrecy until now. Why not throw me into the True Sea and be done with me?”
She looked up at Sherman and stood up. “Sherman? Leave us, will you?”
The Shu man’s grip on Jason’s hand turned bruising. “But--”
“No buts, I’m relieving you. I can handle this on my own. Why don’t you go pay Jake a visit in the Infirmary? Will tells me that he takes his medicine when you’re around.” Her voice dripped with friendliness that made Jason even more wary of her.
Sherman let go and stomped to the door with red ears. “I’m gonna go help Nessa with, err, repairing the boat, yeah.”
“See you later~!” The blonde woman sang as the door was opened and slammed shut. As soon as the reverberating noise of the metal door died down, she turned her gaze colder than ice and stared directly into Jason’s soul. “Tell me, Colonel, if you could spend the rest of your life with one person, who would that be?”
Jason’s mind went blank. What type of question was that? He bit his lip and looked around. The woman surged forward and grabbed his chin harshly, yet he did not raise his hands to push her off.
“I advise you answer all my questions and remain on my good side.”
He found himself nodding and stared her in the eyes. He had the power to send a gust of wind so strong in her direction that her head split open against the metal door behind her, but he didn’t. “Just one person? Can’t it be several?”
“Just one.” She repeated coldly.
Jason stopped to think, but never broke eye contact. That was the first rule of the wolves, never let yourself seem submissive to an enemy clearly beneath you. Then his mind went to a woman in a royal purple kefta , her hair plaited beautifully down her back and her dark eyes regarding him kindly.
“My best friend, Reyna.” Jason spat out, feeling a crick in his neck forming from having his jaw being tugged on.
The blonde woman released him and leaned down to put her elbows on her knees. “A close colleague?”
He nodded, there was no reason to lie on this. He and Reyna weren’t a romantic couple, but they might as well have been soulmates. She was the other Colonel, the one stationed in East Ravka back in Os Alta’s Little Palace. She was also his first friend ever. The blonde woman chuckled lightly. “A good answer, and an honest one, I can tell. So tell me, Colonel, what would you do if this Reyna person suddenly vanished with no trace? What if they just up and left with no warning? Leaving you and the rest of the Second Army to fend for yourselves?”
“I think I would tear the world apart looking for her.” His mouth moved before his mind could even think of an answer.
The blonde woman’s small smile fell as her intense stare returned. “So then you can sympathize with the dilemma that I am about to inform you about.”
She stood and turned to face the door, putting her back to Jason. “This place, above all else, is an orphanage for children, mostly Grisha, fleeing the war. It gives them food, shelter, warmth and community. While we have two official directors, they’re useless. One is a dunkard Alkemi with a horrid fashion sense and the other is a professor at Ketterdam University who sometimes steps in to teach our young Grisha not to kill each other. In the end, the responsibilities left over by these two men fall onto the shoulders of us older orphans, if you would be so kind to think of us as.”
Jason had every chance to kill or take her hostage to demand his freedom from his secretive captors, but he remained seated. He was enthralled by the way she spoke. Was that a faint Fjerdan accent?
The blonde woman took a deep breath and began pacing behind her chair. “Out of all of us caretakers, two of us have been elevated to being the leaders around here. Myself and a stubborn Tidemaker named Percy Jackson.”
The way she spoke his name made her harsh features calm for a second. Jason cleared his throat. “Is he your chosen person? For the question you asked? Let me guess, he’s missing?”
She put a hand on the back of her chair and gripped the metal tightly. “Two weeks ago, he just vanished into the night. I’ve called on favors from gangs all across Kerch to find him, but all came up empty.”
“What’s so special about this boyfriend of yours?”
Her gray eyes found his again and he gulped at the range of emotions that flashed through them. “Percy Jackson is the catalyst of this entire operation. He sparks hope into these children when the war and Grisha draft and witch hunters take everything from them. When we were on the brink of collapse and war right in the middle of the fifth harbor, he guided us through.” Jason noticed how her hand instinctively went to the dagger on her belt. She held onto the handle like it was the arm of a stuffed rabbit a scared little girl would clutch onto. Maybe that’s all this woman was, a scared little girl. She took a deep breath and continued. “He’s not just a symbol or a far-away Saint to us, he’s also incredibly powerful. Once, he was able to control the tides of all of Ketterdam for an entire day.”
“Impossible!” Jason’s eyes shot open wider than they already were. “Does he have an amplifier?!”
She smiled at the wall. “No. Percy’s just that strong. I’m sure if he ever did find one, he could make the entire True Sea bend to his will.”
“Oh Saints… So what does this have to do with me? You want me to find him? What’s in it for me? Who’s to say that I won't turn you all in as soon as I get out of here?”
She turned to face him fully and leaned her arms on the back of the chair. “You won’t do that because you would have fought your way out of here already. I have done nothing to restrain you and I’ve turned my back to you several times now, and yet you have not struck me. You may be a good soldier for King What’s-His-Name all the way in the East, but deep down you’re also just a good little kid, aren’t you?”
Jason pursed his scarred lips and shook his head, folding his arms across his chest. “Perhaps I’m letting you spill all your secrets so that I have more evidence to use against you once I drag you back to Os Alta and present you to the Darkling.”
“The Darkling? Don’t make me laugh, Colonel, you don’t even know who I am!” She snorted.
Jason tried to replicate her harsh stare. “You’re Fjerdan, yet you do not fear the Darkling?”
Somehow, her glare overpowered his. “I’m Half-Fjerdan, my father is from the North but my mother was Ravkan.”
“Okay then, if you’re being so candid with me, what’s your name?” Jason asked tentatively in case the woman decided to use her knife as more than a decorative piece.
Surprisingly, she smiled warmly and swung her chair around to straddle it. “Chase. Annabeth Chase, pleasure to meet you.”
Family name Chase… Fjerdan father, but with a Ravkan mother… “Like Fredrick Chase?! The Fjerdan scholar and diplomat?! I thought his wife was Shu.”
Annabeth’s smile fell. “The one and only and yes, he has a Shu wife, but she obviously isn’t my mother.”
“I see… so back on this missing Tidemaker, I’m still not seeing why you need or even want my help.”
Annabeth groaned and rubbed her temple, her streak of gray curls falling into her face. “Here on Long Island Sound, we have a fortune teller. She’s not Suli, but unfortunately she’s the real deal. She’s possessed by some sort of magical creature from the early days of Small Science. The day after Percy Jackson vanished, she looked into the future and saw a Squaller missing his left shoe as our answer. That, and those two refugees you tried to arrest yesterday, are the only two reasons you are alive. I don’t like our fortune teller, I don’t trust her, but I trust her abilities. If she says that you will be the one to bring Percy back to me--us, then that’s what will happen.”
Jason crossed one leg over another, trying to replicate the same dignified aura Annabeth had. “And if I say no?”
Annabeth’s eyes made him uncross his legs and sit up straight. “Then I’ll have Sherman come back in and chop you into little pieces before we all take turns throwing you into the True Sea.”
The Squaller’s face went green. “Okay so maybe we can work out some sort of deal. I’ll find your guy and bring him back and you guys don’t kill me.”
Her smile returned. “Wonderful! I’m glad that you came around, Colonel. Of course, we can financially compensate your troubles. How does four million kruge sound?”
He choked on spit. “Excuse me?”
“Well, this orphanage, as we call it, recently came into association with a wonderful sponsor all the way from Sikursk at the same time our fortune teller came to have a full-time residency here. Both of those parties are also highly invested in seeing the return of Percy Jackson.”
Jason sat forward in his chair. “Alright, this doesn’t sound too hard. I can use my connections to find this guy in a matter of weeks.”
Annabeth cringed. “I’m afraid that Percy’s not that easy to track down. Yes, he’s powerful and trouble follows him wherever he goes, but he’s also a top class evador of the law. To find him, you have to disappear like him. Luckily, there’s a Tracker that can find him for you.”
“Why don’t you just have your Tracker find him?”
“Believe me, I would if I could. But, Rachel’s vision specifically pointed out you as the leader of this journey. Not to mention another complication with this Tracker that could cause a lot of difficulties on your mission.”
Jason groaned. “Because why would anything be easy?”
“Exactly. Thalia, the Tracker, is a leader of an all-female group of Grisha Trackers who specialize in tracking and following magical beasts often used to create amplifiers out of. However, she and what remains of her troupe have been captured by Fjerdan slavers and are currently serving an indefinite sentence in the Ice Court of Fjerda.”
“So it’s either track the untrackable guy or break into the anti-Grisha prison for the one woman who can track said untrackable guy. Did I get it all?” Jason recanted.
Annabeth nodded. “Yeah pretty much.”
“And my only incentive to do this is…?’
“You get to keep your life and you make four million kruge .”
Jason rubbed his face. “Wow… and I have to stay off Second Army radars too?”
She nodded again. The Colonel groaned a second time and slumped down in his chair. “Just perfect. Please tell me that I’m not doing this alone.”
Annabeth’s warm smile returned, but Jason didn’t trust it to stay. “Yes! In fact, those two Grisha who saved your life, Piper and Leo, volunteered to aid you once I explained the situation to them yesterday! I’ll even let you pick one more Grisha from my ranks to help you!”
Leo and Piper were Grisha? Yeah that made sense, probably draft dodgers or somehow escaped the Little Palace. “Do you know what type they are?”
“Piper seems to be some sort of Corporalki, my money’s on Heartrender, but I have no idea with Leo.” Annabeth shrugged. “His mannerisms scream Fabrikator, but perhaps he doesn’t even know himself.”
Breaking into the Ice Court with nothing but his own skills, draft dodging Heartrender and a kid who doesn’t even know what he is. Not good odds. “So who should I select as my other aid?”
Annabeth stood up and winked at him. “Get up, I’ll give you a tour of the place and let you pick for yourself.”
Chapter 2: Percy & Reyna
Summary:
In Os Alta, Percy appears at the Little Palace, stirring up chaos for Reyna
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The horrible screeching of the winged demons was only getting closer as the night dragged on. They swooped down from the night sky to slash at their prey, but the man always either ducked out of the way or those terrible claws would pass right through him like he was made of air.
The person they chased, a man with distinct Zemeni blood and sea green eyes, was covered in blood and dirt and bile. He held a bronze sword in his hand that he would occasionally use to hack at the swarm of monsters behind him, but their numbers still seemed to grow.
He had no idea where he was or how long he was running, all he remembered was sprinting away from that giant wall of shadows that the monsters spawned from. It was almost pitch black, the moon hiding behind clouds and trees as he continued to sprint away. In his path, a large rock blocked his way. Using it as a springboard, the man leaped off of the rock and spun around in the air, hacking off the heads of two volcra behind him and kept going. The lights of civilization were ahead. He just had to get there.
As he broke the tree lines of the dense forest, the man caught sight of a castle with high walls. He pumped his arms harder, the taste of bile in his mouth drowning out his other senses, and made a beeline for the castle gates. The man couldn’t remember where he came from, nor why he was being chased, but he had three certainties: One, his name was Percy Jackson. Two, he was in love with a woman named Annabeth. Three, he knew how to swing a sword.
What any of that meant, he had no idea. Percy just wanted the monsters to stop chasing him.
Two guards at the top of the Little Palace’s gate shivered in the cold wind. Meanwhile, the two Grisha next to them huddled together and whispered among themselves. The shorter Grisha was a Zemeni woman wearing a blue kefta , but it had no special embroidery. She pressed her shoulder against the heavy-set Shu man next to her, his kefta being red but also missing special embroidery. The two of them whispered in broken Zemeni, both having different, distinct accents that gave the guards next to them headaches, but the Ravkan guards would never speak ill of Grisha in front of them.
The Shu man happened to glance out into the darkness just past the lights of the Little Palace and caught sight of movement. He put a hand on the girl’s shoulder and moved past her, now whispering in Ravkan. “Hazel, do you see that?”
Hazel squinted her golden eyes and gasped. “Is that a person?”
“Looks like it.” Her tall companion turned to the guards. “Hey, one of you run inside and alert the others that we have someone approaching the West Gate. The other, come with us to intercept them.”
As the guard and two Grisha descended the stairs inside the palace walls, the Zemeni girl held onto the Shu man’s arm. “Frank, I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”
“It’s probably just some drunkard from town, no need to worry.” He smiled at her as they stepped back out into the night air.
Down on the ground, they could get a better look at the man who was sprinting towards the gate, a sword in hand. Before either of the Grisha could move, the sound of horrible screeching filled the air. The guard next to them bristled. “Are those volcra?!”
Hazel pointed at the flock of demons chasing the man ahead of them. “Saints, open the gate!”
The guard ran to pull the heavy metal gate open while Percy got closer and closer. Frank and Hazel squeezed under the gate and began screaming for him to run faster. One demon swooped down and dragged its claws through Percy’s head, but it simply passed through him. Hazel rubbed her eyes, it must have been a trick of the light.
Frank ran to the guard who was frozen stiff by the gate’s controls and ripped his rifle off of his back, dashed back to Hazel’s side and started to take aim. With deadly accuracy, the Corporalki began picking off the volcra as they appeared out of the dark trees.
Percy knew that the large man shooting in his direction was aiming at his pursuers, yet he still ducked and put an arm over his head instinctively. The light of the walls ahead of him grew closer and closer. One gunshot sent a monster right on top of him careening to the ground and to Percy’s horror, flew through his body like he wasn’t even there.
“Come on! Hurry up!” A short Zemeni woman screamed from the open gate. Percy pumped his arms as hard as he could and crossed the last two hundred yards as the man in a red kefta finished off the last of the volcra. He threw himself down at their feet and gasped harshly for air as the muscles in his legs spasmed and shook.
The gate was closed behind him as Frank handed the still-smoking rifle back to the guard and knelt down in front of the new arrival. “Hey, are you okay? How the hell did volcra get all the way here?”
Sea green eyes looked up at Frank as Percy gasped for even more air. Hazel tried to grab Percy’s sword, but her hand went through him and she reeled back. “Is that water?”
Percy grunted and tried to push his shaking body up, but winced and grit his teeth. His mouth was stained a sickly orange color and he reeked of death. Frank looked around to see more guards and Grisha spilling out of the Little Palace behind him as Percy passed out. “Hurry, we need a Healer!”
Percy ached all over. His legs trembled with aftershocks of him sprinting for hours on end and his mouth was dry. He needed to chew chew chew on something. He felt weak, like the blood was evaporating from his body. Breathing hurt and his skin pulled on his bones uncomfortably. The only thing to keep him from screaming in pain was a hand on his forehead. Who was touching him? Where was Annabeth? Who was Annabeth? Who was Percy? He just needed more. More what? He convulsed on the bed he had been laid on and sweat dripped all over his body.
A strong looking woman in a purple kefta paced anxiously as the Suli Healer in a red kefta kept one hand on the shaking Zemeni man’s forehead and ran his other hand across the man’s chest.
“How is he doing, Pranjal?” She stopped fiddling with the end of her braid and crossed her arms, the gray embroidery of her kefta indicating her Durast status.
“Not good, Colonel.” The Healer shook his head as his patient tried to sit up again in his pain-filled haze, but he pushed him back down. “Whatever turned his teeth orange is wreaking havoc all over his body. It’s a miracle that he stopped using Small Science long enough for us to get him inside.”
Reyna pursed her lips and nodded. She needed the Tidemaker on the bed before her to be coherent enough to explain how he was able to lead a swarm of volcra to the Little Palace’s front door, among many other questions she had. The two Grisha that had saved him were two new recruits, Hazel and Frank. If not being Ravkan didn’t set those two apart in the Little Palace, the fact that neither of them could figure out exactly what specific type of Grisha they were would do it. Assigning them the night shift in guarding the Palace was supposed to be a way for them to practice their powers discreetly so that they could catch up with the rest of the Second Army. Apparently, trouble still managed to find them. Now, the Grisha training under her were close to rioting in the panic that a swarm of volcra would bring when sighted all the way in Os Alta. She didn’t want to drag the Darkling from the southern Shu Han/Ravkan border to come help her control the Little Palace, nor did she want to order Colonel Jason Grace from West Ravka to come back to calm everyone.
But Jason would know what to do…
She purged the thought from her mind. She was the highest ranking officer at the Little Palace, she could - no, she would - handle everything herself. Her purple kefta would not hold her back. Whatever trouble just dropped into her lap, she would handle with grace and precision.
“How long do you think he’ll be like this?” She tapped her foot anxiously.
Pranjal looked over his shoulder and shrugged. “If he constantly has Healers attending him, maybe a few days before he wakes up. I’ve sent a sample of the stuff he had been chewing that we found in his pockets to Marcus and the other Alkemi, but that might also take a few days for them to identify what made our John Doe like…” the Healer waved vaguely at his patient, “this.”
“The minute he seems even remotely coherent, I want you to come to me directly, got it?”
Pranjal nodded and returned his gaze to the bed. Renya removed herself from the Infirmary, only to run into a blonde man wearing a brown robe.
“Oh sorry there, Colonel, I didn’t see you.” The blonde man smiled, but it looked forced.
Reyna straightened her posture and looked him in the eyes. “Brother Octavian, what brings you to the Little Palace? Shouldn’t you be attending to His Majesty?”
Octavian waved his hands around. “Eh, His Majesty believes that my abilities would be put to better use here… and not a moment too soon it seems.” His plastic smile grew evilly. “Volcra all the way in Os Alta and an unnamed Summoner leading them to us? Colonel, Colonel, Colonel , it seems you could use all the help in the world keeping the lid on this scandal.”
She pushed past the priest. “I have everything under control. If I hear of you disturbing Pranjal or any of the other Healers while our new arrival recovers, I will go directly to the Darkling-- no, I will go directly to His Majesty himself and have you removed from Os Alta.”
“Is that a threat, Reyna?” He did not turn to face her as he spat out her name like a curse, yet he could feel her dark eyes boring into the back of his skull.
“Only if you make it one.” She repressed the urge to spat at his shoes as she marched down the halls of the Little Palace. As she did, she passed a group of servants and signaled them to her side.
“I need a Tidemaker’s kefta made for the man in the Infirmary. You can get measurements from Pranjal, but do not disturb him.”
The servants all nodded and scampered off as Reyna kept up her pace. She walked herself across the Little Palace’s courtyard and made her way to the grand library, where she found two Grisha huddling together behind a bookshelf.
“Frank, Hazel.”
The two jumped and spun around to stand at attention for Reyna, who simply waved her hand to make them relax. “Calm down, I’m not here to bite your heads off. I’m simply here to hear your accounts of last night in person.”
Hazel and Frank looked between each other before the Shu man sighed. “I saw him first, he came running out of the woods like a bat out of hell. Then we saw the things chasing him. We got the guards to open the gate so that he could run inside while I dealt with the monsters. Then, he fell over and the Healers took him inside.”
Reyna turned her gaze to the short Zemeni Summoner. “Hazel?”
Hazel gulped and put her hands behind her back, not meeting Reyna’s eyes. “It’s like Frank said, he ran out of the woods with volcra on his tail and we let him inside. We didn’t have time to call for help, I’m the one who said to open the gate. I’m sorry.”
Reyna smiled and put a hand on her shoulder. “Sorry? For saving that man’s life? Today, the two of you are heroes for saving the Little Palace from the volcra!”
“Then why does it feel like we did nothing?” Frank muttered under his breath, his wide shoulders sagging.
“‘Nothing’? Frank Zhang, you shot down twelve flying targets in the dead of night without missing a single shot! How can you chalk that up to nothing?” Reyna grabbed Frank’s large arms, her tactness vanishing and being replaced with awe.
Frank’s cheeks flushed as he tried to lean back away from Reyna’s tight grip. “Well, when you put it like that…”
Hazel giggled and gently pried the Colonel’s hands off of her friend. “Yes, Frankie, you saved the day. Now, I’m sure the Colonel has better things to do than talk with us…”
Reyna blinked and reeled back, folding her arms behind her back and coughing. “Erm, yes, apologies. Everything seems to be in order here. However, I would like the two of you to remain available in case I need any more information from you.”
“Really, Colonel, that’s everything we know.” Hazel frowned. “I’m not sure if you would want the help of the two of us.”
The Fabrikator smiled and started to walk away. “We’ll see about that, Hazel. I’ll see the two of you later.”
Pranjal rubbed his patient’s back as the poor man vomited up another bucket-full of orange gunk. He would only wake up for a few seconds to vomit and scream out the name of some girl before he would pass out again. For days, this is what he dedicated his time to, trying to use his Small Science to flush out whatever poison or drug was plaguing this man, but to no avail. There was just too much of it in his system.
Day eight of trying to help his John Doe, a young Alkemi approached him with some answers. “Hey, P, I’ve figured out what’s making him sick like this.”
The Suli Healer nearly wept as he wiped his hands on his kefta . “Saints above, please don’t be joking right now.”
Marcus pulled up a stool and sat himself down. “No, I'm serious! I had to dig around for it, but apparently it’s from Novyi Zem. It’s like a bastard version of jurda. From what I can tell, to get this bad, this guy must have been eating nothing but jurda for months.”
“It explains his frail form.” Pranjal noted. “Do you know of any better way to flush it out of his system besides just simply healing his body?”
The Alkemi hissed through his teeth and shrugged. “Has he been able to keep down any food?”
Pranjal watched the sick Tidemaker jolt up and vomit again into the bucket next to the bed. “Not for more than twenty minutes. How’s Reyna holding up?”
“Actually, she’s been in a good mood today. Some soldiers from the other side of the Fold are coming in today with a report.”
The Healer smiled. “Ah, good, seeing Jason is sure to boost her spirits. Octavian’s been on my ass for days, talking about how this John Doe may be the signal to the coming of the Sun Summoner or something. How’s everyone else holding up?”
Marcus hissed again. “Everyone’s tense still. I can tell Reyna’s trying her best to keep everyone calm, but I heard the King himself caught wind of volcra appearing at the West Gate.”
Pranjal cursed in Suli and helped his patient lay back down. “No doubt Octavian’s doing. You don’t think that he’ll try to usurp Reyna, will he?”
“Not sure, man,” the Alkemi shook his head, “but it doesn’t look good. Once Jason gets here, everything should sort itself out. He always knows just what to say.”
“He better…”
As Marcus turned to leave, Percy’s eyes shot open and he jolted back up from the nightmares hiding behind his eyelids. “ Annabeth! ”
Pranjal put a hand on his chest to keep him from falling over. “Hey, man, calm down, you’re okay.”
“No, I need to find Annabeth!” He screamed and thrashed. “He’s gonna hurt her! They’re all out to get her!”
“Marcus, go get Reyna!” Pranjal snapped at the Alkemi, who promptly sprinted off, shouting for the Colonel. “Hey, can you tell me who Annabeth is? What your name is? Anything?”
Percy struggled against him, sweat soaking his clothing as his eyes searched his surroundings frantically. “I can’t-I have to stop them! They’re gonna destroy the island! They’re gonna tear us apart, I have to go back!”
“You’re safe here, you’re in the Little Palace, nothing can hurt you here.” Pranjal spoke calmly, discreetly using the little bit of Heartrender tricks he’d picked up to slow the man’s rushing heart.
The Tidemaker took deep breaths, his teeth still stained orange, and closed his eyes. “Wait, wait wait, did you say the Little Palace? That can’t be right, I was just in the Fold yesterday. What is the Fold? Why do I know what that is?” He grabbed at his hair, his pulse quickening again as his panic returned. “Why can’t I remember anything?! Why do I know something’s wrong?! Who’s out to get us?!”
Pranjal moved the hand on his chest in calming circles, trying to push his will onto his patient even stronger along with healing him. “I need you to breathe and tell me your name. Can you do that for me?”
“My name?” He looked around again, one hand going to his hip like he was trying to grab at something. “Who wants to know?”
“My name is Pranjal, I’m a Healer in the Second Army. Now, I need you to focus, what is your name?”
“Percy. Percy Jackson. That’s my name.” Percy looked around for what the Healer assumed was the sword he had been found with. Pranjal made sure the coast was clear before he pulled the sword out from under the bed and handed it to his patient, who happily took it and cradled it like a child.
“You really like that weapon.” He noted.
Percy nodded. “I’ve had it since I was twelve, it’s one of my best friends.”
Pranjal nodded and moved his hands to rest one on Percy’s wrist, on his pulse to keep it steady. “Can you tell me anything else you remember? Something to do with jurda? Volcra? Annabeth?”
His sea green eyes lit up. “Annabeth! I need to get back to her!”
“Yes, yes, we established that. Now tell me why.”
“Why?” Percy blinked and held his bronze sword tight. “Uh…”
The door to the Infirmary flew open and Reyna stomped in, Marcus pulling the door shut behind her and vanishing. Pranjal jumped up from his stool and stood at attention. “Colonel, ma’am!”
“He’s talking?” She eyed Percy’s sword curiously, who only held it to his chest tighter.
“Who are you?”
“Colonel Reyna Avila Ramírez-Arellano of Ravka’s Second Army. And you?” She sat herself down on the stool that Marcus had been sitting on earlier.
“Percy Jackson. Where am I?” He stared her dead in the eyes, something Pranjal wouldn’t dare do.
She returned his gaze with a polite smile. “The Little Palace in Os Alta, the training grounds for young Grisha.”
He shook his head, his curly black hair falling into his face. Pranjal noted that this man might also be part Shu or Suli, or perhaps a mix of all nationalities. “Impossible, I don’t remember much, but I know that there’s no way I can be here. I only ran out of the Fold at sundown last night! Wait, what’s the Fold?”
Reyna gave Pranjal a sideways glance and folded her manicured hands on her lap. “Mister Jackson, you’ve been asleep for eight days. And while I agree, it’s impossible for volcra to somehow chase you during the day all the way here, it is also impossible for you to have run across all of Ravka in a single night. So that’s where our problems come in.” She leaned forward, her dark eyes turning demanding. “How did any of last week’s circumstances even take place?”
Percy looked back and forth between Reyna and Pranjal before swallowing the bile that welled up in his mouth. “Can I have something to drink?”
Reyna nodded and the Healer scampered off to find some water. As soon as Pranjal was gone, Percy spat out the remaining bile in his mouth into the bucket next to his bed and scooted closer to Reyna. “I’ve told you the truth, I was only chased for a few hours after I woke up in the shadows ‘till I showed up on your doorstep. I really can’t remember anything else, I’m sorry.”
The Fabrikator sighed. She believed him. “So that means that somehow you managed to sprint across an entire continent in a single night.”
Pranjal returned with a glass of water. “It could have something to do with the drugs in his system. Marcus and the other Alkemi analyzed the stuff we found in his pockets and it’s a stimulant from Novyi Zem called jurda, or at least it was similar to jurda. The amount you had in your system was astronomical, it’s a miracle you’re alive right now, much less talking.”
Percy chuckled. “Great mood booster, P.”
“I do my best.” The Healer nodded and tried to hand the water to Percy, but Reyna intercepted it and held it away from the Zemeni man.
“Tell me, Percy Jackson, are you a Grisha? A user of Small Science?”
Percy nodded and eyed the glass of water, his throat tightening with thirst. “Yeah that word sounds familiar. I can do magic.”
“Show me.”
Pranjal opened his mouth in protest. “Colonel, he hasn’t had anything to drink in days--”
“When you were found,” Reyna cut him off. “Witnesses say that their hands passed through you like you were made of water, yet you have no amplifier. So prove it, show me your Small Science.”
Percy grumbled and stared at the glass of water. Something felt wrong, felt off. Was there supposed to be some sort of tug on his mind, telling him how to do magic? His mind felt unnaturally empty. Why couldn’t he do this?
What would Annabeth do?
And who the fuck was Annabeth?! Why couldn’t he remember even the basic things?! He wanted to scream, cry, throw up, itch all of his skin off, tug out his hair, swing Riptide. Who was Riptide? Did his sword have a name? Yes, it did! Riptide was the sword his father gave him! Who was his father?
He continued to glare at the water as the image of a beautiful blonde woman appeared in his mind. He imagined her standing next to him, her curls falling over his shoulder as she moved her hand to his back and whispered in his ear sweetly.
“Come on, Seaweed Brain, you’ve done this a million times!”
That tug on his mind was back. Her hand moved to the small of his back affectionately as he imagined her pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. This was Annabeth.
The water rose up out of the cup in Reyna’s hand and hovered in the air in front of her eyes. She smiled in amusement as Percy pried one of his hands off of Riptide and wiggled his fingers with furrowed eyebrows, the water dancing around her head before making it slip back into the cup. He held out his hand for the cup and she handed it over without any more protests.
“Very good. Pranjal, I had the servants prepare a kefta for him. It should be in your office, could you fetch it for us? I want Percy to join us for the earliest meal he can. Hopefully, he can be ready in time for dinner and the report from West Ravka.”
Pranjal nodded and vanished again as Percy gulped down the water. He sighed deeply and handed the cup back to her, the water having washed his teeth of that horrible orange color. Reyna smiled kindly at him. “Feeling better?”
“Oh yeah.” He smiled back. “Now I just gotta get back to Annabeth.”
“You mentioned that…” Her smile faded and she pulled her braid over the shoulder of her purple kefta . “Who is Annabeth and why must you go save her?”
Percy blinked and the grip on his sword tightened. “Annabeth is… my favorite person in the world. I would do anything for her, I think. I… I can’t remember anything else.”
Reyna stood and patted his shoulder, noticing the way he flinched away at first. “That’s quite alright. Once you’re ready to leave the Infirmary, come find me and we can work on piecing together the events that brought you here together.”
To Pranjal’s surprise - and against his better judgment - Percy was healthy and itching to leave by the time dinner rolled around. His blue kefta fit him handsomely and his hair was washed for him by servants in beige. They tried to take his sword from him, which led to Percy nearly drawing it against them, but Pranjal interceeded and personally walked Percy to a bedroom prepared for him where he could store Riptide. Despite not remembering where he lived before waking up in that giant mass of shadows - which he assumed was the Fold - the room still blew him away. He was given a wardrobe of beautiful clothing, a giant bed, a bookshelves filled with tomes in various languages and his own bathtub!
“Annabeth would kill for a tub like this…” Percy noted out loud as he ran a hand along the rim of the bathtub. He had a suspicion that the clawed feet of the mighty tub was real gold along with some of the other decor in his room.
“Ah, that name again.” Pranjal laughed as he set Riptide down on the massive bed right outside of the bedroom. “She must be very important for you to remember her above all else.”
“I guess so.” Percy found a smile creeping onto his face as he imagined the blonde woman squealing and jumping up and down at the sight of the beautiful suite. Her image belonged in luxury like this, not him. Percy felt that he would have thrived back in the Infirmary. Being dolled up in his blue kefta and having his skin scrubbed clean made him feel stiff. Yet, Annabeth filled his mind still. She deserved the gilded bathtub, she deserved the fancy skin creams that Percy had a sinking suspicion made his face lighter, she deserved the expensive perfumes and flowers and books - Saints yes the books! Annabeth would lock herself up in this room with the twenty-something books on the dark oak shelf and lose herself in the pages. He could perfectly imagine the sun hitting her hair and making it glow as she sat on the plush couch of the bedroom surrounded by books in Ravkan, Zemeni, Fjerdan and other languages, a little gray streak that matches the deepness of her eyes being fiddled with by her slender fingers. Her fingers were hard and calloused from years of… Percy couldn’t remember why her hands were rough, but they always held his warmly.
Pranjal snapped his fingers in front of Percy’s eyes. “Hey, you with me, man?”
Percy blinked and shook his head, finding himself sitting on the couch in his new room. “What?”
“I’ve been calling your name for three minutes. You doing alright? It’s time to head to dinner.”
“Oh, right, yeah I’m fine.” He laughed awkwardly and stood up to smooth out his kefta . “Did you say dinner? I’m starving!”
Pranjal muttered under his breath something about Percy only eating jurda for weeks and led him out of his room, assuring him that only the servants and Percy himself had a key. Percy was led down various halls and staircases in the Little Palace walled with gold and ivory and priceless paintings that Percy had an itch to draw on.
The Healer had him cross a courtyard and walk down a few more halls, passing a library on their way, before entering a large ballroom filled with Grisha mingling around tables waiting for dinner to be served to them. The tables seemed to be divided by the colors of Grisha’s keftas and arranged in a triangle with a throne seated at the head of the triangle. Pranjal bowed to Percy and went off to go speak with other red wearing Grisha, leaving him to stand awkwardly at the door.
Percy looked around and spied vaguely familiar faces, two young Grisha wearing keftas without special embroidery. He started to walk towards the two huddled in the corner away from the others, but accidentally bumped into a short man.
“Saints, I’m so sorry--” The Tidemaker winced.
“It’s fine.” The short man had tar black hair and unnaturally pale skin, he looked like a corpse. His eyes had dark circles and the kefta he wore was black. No other Grisha wore black that Percy could see.
He looked up at Percy and a flurry of emotions passed through his eyes. First, recognition. Second, confusion. Third, relief. And fourth, resignation. Percy thought that he looked familiar, but his memory was failing him again.
“Have we met before?” Percy decided to ask.
The Grisha in black shook his head, his messy hair falling in his face. “Not that I’m aware of. If you excuse me, I have other things to attend to.”
He pushed past Percy and vanished into the crowd of colorfully dressed Grisha. Someone tapped on his shoulder, making him spin around and put his hand on his hip like he still wore Riptide. It was the short Zemeni girl from the gate last night--eight days ago. The one Percy wanted to talk to.
“That’s Nico, he doesn’t really talk to anyone. Don’t worry, you didn’t offend him, he’s just awkward.” She looked at the spot the Grisha in black had been standing. “Glad to see you on your feet, stranger. I’m Hazel, Hazel Levesque. This is Frank Zhang, he’s a little awkward too.”
Frank waved shyly, which Percy returned with a smile. “Nice to meet you, I’m Percy. Actually, I wanted to talk to the two of you and thank you for opening the gate for me. Not sure if I would still be here if not for the two of you!”
The Shu man blushed furiously while Hazel laughed and punched his arm playfully. “Really you should be giving all the thanks to Frank here, he did the most work! Too bad he still can’t heal a fly!”
“ Hazel. ” Frank hissed, but he didn’t sound upset. Percy could tell that they were close. They were the only Grisha in the room who’s keftas were styled differently, besides Nico in black.
Man, that Nico guy looked familiar!
A bell rang and all of the Grisha moved to the table. Sensing his confusion, Hazel grabbed Percy’s arm and tugged him to a table where other Summoners were sitting. They sat down at the far end of the Summoner’s table where it connected with the Corporalki table. To the surprise of no one, Frank sat himself down on the end of his table right next to Percy, sandwiching him between what he assumed were his new friends.
At the throne seated at the point where the Summoners’ table met the Fabrikators’ table, appeared Reyna looking as regal as ever. She cast a wide smile around the Dining Hall and waited as two men took their seats at her sides. On her right was Nico and on her left, a gangly blonde man with sunken cheeks wearing the brown robes of a priest.
“Who’s that?” Percy whispered.
Frank bristled and glared at the blonde priest. “Brother Octavian. He’s the King’s right hand man and now he’s the king’s eyes and ears here in the Little Palace. He moved in part-time right when the other Colonel moved out to West Ravka and I heard that now he’s here full-time to breathe down Colonel Ramírez-Arellano’s neck.”
“Sounds like a piece of work.”
Hazel snorted. “Understatement of the century.”
“Is he Grisha?” Percy’s eyes went back to Nico, who seemed to be purposefully avoiding his gaze.
“Octavian? I think so. He’s a descendant of Morozova, so it’s up in the air as to what he actually can do. He’s got nothing on Nico there. Nico is cousins with the Darkling, that’s why he gets to wear black. They’re both Shadow Summoners.”
“Isn’t Nico your brother?” Frank leaned closer to Percy to whisper around him.
Percy’s eyebrows shot up as Hazel made a sound that wasn’t necessarily disputing what Frank just claimed, nor was it confirming. “How is that possible, you’re Zemeni, aren’t you? Ghost boy over there looks so pale that shining a light on his face can destroy the Fold.”
Hazel snorted again, this time covering her mouth with a hand. “Supposedly, we have the same father, but that doesn’t earn me any favors here. It’s not like I can summon anything.”
Percy pointed at the two next to him. “So you can’t summon and you can’t heal, is that why your keftas look different?”
Frank nodded and sat up straight as Reyna finished her conversation with a waiter and clapped her hands together. “Friends, soldiers, guests of the Little Palace, tonight is a special occasion. Dining with us tonight, we have been blessed by a visit by Sir Nico di Angelo, who serves as the voice of our General while he is away, and Brother Octavian of the Church of the Sun Summoner.”
The tables clapped politely as Octavian bowed and Nico barely nodded his head, looking uncomfortable being presented like this. Then, Reyna gestured directly at Percy. “Another pleasant surprise joining us is the Little Palace’s newest arrival, Percy Jackson!”
Another round of polite clapping, this one even more reserved, as Hazel pinched Percy to make him stand up. He awkwardly rose, nodded his head, and sat back down quickly.
Reyna finished up announcements, some about menial tasks around the Little Palace and some about returning books to the library on time, before servants appeared with trays of food and the Colonel sat herself down.
Percy had a tray set down before him and he stared at the salmon prepared just for him. The fish was decorated in spices and lemons and grilled to perfection. The fish laid on a bed of fresh lettuce that was covered in cherry tomatoes and some sort of white sauce. Percy looked around to see that everyone else had similar food, but Frank’s plate was lacking sauce.
“I’m lactose intolerant; can’t have any dairy.” He explained before digging in. On Percy’s other side, he saw her wolfing down her meal like it was the last meal she would ever have, the small hair tie keeping her large head of curls out of her face not doing much as her bangs fell in her face, dangerously close to her food.
The Tidemaker stared at his place again and glanced at the golden forks next to his food. Yet, no appetite befell him, despite how hungry he was earlier. He wanted to chew, but not eat. He tapped his foot under the table, his entire leg bouncing with the movement. The fish steamed in his face and the drinks served in crystal goblets formed perspiration that ran down the sides of the clear cups, yet he still did not eat.
Instead, he turned his gaze back up to the head of the table where Brother Octavian happily conversed with a Summoner next to him while Reyna and Nico ate in silence. If Percy squinted, he could almost see the two whispering to each other, but it was most likely polite small talk. Neither of them looked comfortable.
A door to the side of the Dining Hall swung open and a muscular man wearing a kefta the color of the beige outfits the servants would wear marched in. Octavian saw him first and sprung out of his chair to meet him. “Michael! I assume you have the report from the West Ravkan front? Where’s Colonel Grace?”
The entire room went silent from this sudden outburst. Reyna turned to face Michael in her chair and studied his face, seeing the creases in his brow. He bowed at the hip and spoke in a low tone.
“Colonel, if you would come with me.”
Octavian shook his head and clapped his hands together loudly. “Nonsense! We’re all gathered here to receive the report, whatever you have to tell the Colonel must also be of importance to the entire Second Army, correct?”
About half of the Grisha in the room made some sort of noise in agreement. Percy noted that Hazel, Frank and Nico did not. Michael straightened his back and took a deep breath, turning to the door he had just appeared out of. “Colonel Ramírez-Arellano, I present Captain Blaise of our Novo-Kribirsk Base.”
The room went deathly silent as a Durast of Zemeni heritage nervously walked through the door. Reyna rose to her feet and glared at Octavian. “Surely he means to discuss his report in private with the officers.”
Octavian spun around dramatically. Percy realized that he was purposefully trying to bait Reyna into getting angry at him in front of the Grisha. It was a battle of power now. The priest straightened his robes and moved to stand next to Blaise, planting a firm hand on the poor Captain’s shoulder. “Now, Colonel ,” he spat out the title with so much charm that Percy wanted to vomit again, “we wouldn’t want to hide anything from our beloved Second Army, now would we?”
Nico looked like he wanted to vanish into his chair in annoyance and Percy found himself relating. He figured that Michael, Blaise and Reyna wanted to do the same. Hazel huffed quietly. “Leave it to Octavian to make a scene over a silly report.”
Frank frowned and crossed his arms. “But wasn’t Colonel Grace supposed to come give this report? Where is he?”
Blaise cleared his throat and looked around the room. Percy could see he was sporting a black eye. “Well, two weeks ago, Grisha and soldiers from my station along with Colonel Grace set out on a mission to apprehend a group of fugitives who were crossing the Unsea via trains. However, as we arrested the fugitives, a group of Fjerdan assassins ambushed us in the open.”
There was collective gasping from the tables. Reyna seemed to stiffen slightly. “And?”
Blaise gulped loudly and looked down at his boots, probably hating how his purple kefta made him stand out against the gold and cream colored walls of the Dining Hall. “Myself and one First Army soldier were the only people to escape with our lives. I’m sorry.”
The room went silent again before it erupted into questions and shouts. Even Octavian didn’t seem to expect this news and noticeably deflated. He turned to look at Reyna, who only stared through Blaise like Jason was going to burst through the door and announce that it was a tacky practical joke.
“Reyna’s losing it.” Hazel whispered. “Jason was her best friend and from what I heard, a really, really great leader. Now there’s no one to have her back if Octavian tries to spin this into some sort of power grab.”
Frank reached behind Percy and flicked her arm. “Hey, Jason was Octavian’s friend too. He was everyone’s friend.”
Percy’s eyes were glued on the subtle way Reyna’s chin quivered as she turned back to face the restless Grisha. “That will be all for tonight. Finish your meals and retire to bed immediately. There will be no training tomorrow either.”
The Colonel snapped her fingers and marched out of the room, Michael and Blaise following behind her sheepishly. Octavian trailed after her too, his confidence vanishing in that instant. Nico rose from his chair and vanished in a puff of black smoke without a trace. Percy’s jaw hung open. “How did he do that?”
Hazel pushed back her chair. “Shadow Traveling, it’s Nico’s signature party trick. Come on, we should get out of here.”
Frank nodded and stood up, patting Percy’s shoulder as he stepped away. “We’ll see you around, man.”
Percy waited until they were gone before he rose from his chair quickly. Too quickly. His head started to spin and his throat went dry. He needed to chew something, probably that stuff that Pranjal told him he had been chewing before he showed up at the Little Palace. Yeah, that sounded good. Screw the fish, he needed some of that jurda stuff.
Pranjal appeared at his side and pushed a bag of sweets into Percy’s hand. “I see that look in your eyes, don’t go looking for the jurda. It’s all being kept for analysis in the Alkemis’ lab. You need to go to bed.”
“But I’m not tired--” He cut himself off when he saw the small tears in the corners of Pranjal’s eyes. “Oh.”
“Oh indeed. Reyna needs privacy and peace right now, so go to your room and entertain yourself until you fall asleep.”
Percy nodded and did as he was told. Back in the room just off of the Dining Hall, Reyna sat down on a plush chair and listened to Blaise retell the story of the drüskelle attack. Octavian whispered with Michael to the side, but it was obvious that the two of them were also listening to the Fabrikator talk.
Reyna didn’t know what to think. Just when things were starting to go her way, that Percy guy waking up and Jason returning to Os Alta, everything fell apart. She hated how she relished watching Octavian deflate from such daunting news, she just wanted to go to her room and cry and scream and throttle her pillow until Jason returned to tell her things were all okay.
Octavian wiped his eyes as Blaise finished his account - Reyna couldn’t tell if he was actually crying or not - and clasped his hands together. “Whatever shall we do now, Colonel? Dear Jason Grace has left this world, or is lost to the sea and at the mercy of the Fjerdan drüskelle .”
The men all looked at her. She swallowed down the sob in her throat and blinked her tears away, standing up and making herself look large. “We carry on as usual. In two days, we will hold a memorial for Colonel Grace and there is to be no scheduled activities until then. After the memorial, wait two more days until training and missions begin again. We must give the men time to mourn, but we cannot wallow in sadness forever.”
Michael cleared his throat. “What about the Colonel’s family?”
“He has none.” Reyna and Octavian said at the same time, casting each other loathful looks as they did. Michael bowed and left the room, snapping his fingers to call the attention of other servants. Blaise left as well, leaving the priest and the remaining Colonel.
Reyna sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, sniffing back her emotions loudly. “Saints, why does this happen to us?”
Octavian shrugged and folded his hands into his sleeves. “It is just fate, there doesn’t need to be a reason.”
She looked to him and let the tears well up in her eyes again. “Whatever happened to us? Our friends? Us; you, me, Marcus, Dakota, Gwen, Jason? What happened to that family?”
His blue eyes turned cold as he turned to leave. “That family died when Wonder Boy and his little goonies left for the True Sea and not a moment later. Watch yourself, Reyna,” he looked over his shoulder with a chilling glare despite the singular tear that streaked down his cheek defiantly, “I refuse to be put down like the dog Jason was.”
Notes:
I have a hate/love/hate relationship with Octavian is it obvious
Chapter 3: Jason & Leo
Summary:
Jason, Leo and Piper explore Long Island Sound and learn more about the Half-Bloods
Chapter Text
Annabeth tugged the metal door open and waited for Jason to walk out before her. He smoothed out his blue kefta and stepped outside to see Will standing guard by the door.
“Are you going to get Sherman to hold my hand again?”
Will snorted while Annabeth stepped around Jason and laughed. “Nope, he’s off doing his own thing. In fact, all of the Half-Bloods here have their own thing.”
“What are Half-Bloods?” Jason looked between the two of them curiously. Annabeth led the two of them down a dark hallway that gave way to a balcony overseeing a giant courtyard. Buildings surrounded the courtyard on all sides as children ran in and out of the various open doors. While Jason gaped at the beauty of the flowers growing around the courtyard and up the walls of the buildings, warmed by the sun peeking down through the storm clouds that were synonymous with Kerch, a young woman with Shu heritage appeared with a leather boot and painted red lips.
“Here you go, Boss! One left boot for our new guest!” She winked at Jason and handed Annabeth the boot in her hands. Jason smiled politely at her as Annabeth passed the boot to him and he leaned against Will to tug it on.
“Thank you, Drew. Anything else I can do for you?” Annabeth crossed her arms and smiled kindly.
“That letter from Clarisse came in. Nothing in Cofton or the rest of the Southern Colonies.” Drew’s smile wavered a little bit.
Annabeth cursed in Fjerdan and clenched her fists tightly. “Okay, thank you. Have you seen Butch anywhere?”
“Butch is helping Nessa repair the ship from those drüskelle guns.” Drew’s smile returned. “And Lacy is showing those new arrivals around right now!”
A small part of Jason was relieved to know that the two refugees he wanted to arrest only a day before were getting along well. He didn’t want to admit it to anyone, but they had endeared themselves to him in the small meeting they had before Sherman carried him to that interrogation chamber. Perhaps it was the fact that they made Annabeth go back for him during the drüskelle ambush, maybe it was the fact that Annabeth got them to agree to help him on his new impossible task. Either way, he found himself looking forward to seeing Leo and Piper again. Perhaps they were just as confused as he was to his circumstances.
An explosion on the other side of the buildings surrounding the courtyard - which was closer to the size of a plot of farmland - ripped Jason from his thoughts. “What was that?!”
Drew rubbed her face while Will groaned. “Did Lacy take Piper and Leo to the Artillery?”
“What, like it’s somehow my fault that Beckandorf left that crazy Fabrikator machine?” Drew snapped back, venom dripping from her voice that made Jason do a double take.
Annabeth sighed and started down a flight of stairs connecting the balcony to the courtyard. “All of you, come with me before anything else blows up.”
Jason gulped and the three followed behind her. As they did, Annabeth high-fived a couple kids running past her and waved to others. “To answer your question, Colonel, we are the Half-Bloods. That’s our name. Most of the children here are from border towns in the mainland and more often than not, have mixed blood. Drew here is Half-Shu, I’m Half-Fjerdan, same as Will. The name came around and it just kinda stuck. It makes us sound cooler than we actually are, more threatening.”
“How many of you are Grisha?” Jason marveled in the way birds danced around the air of the courtyard, not discouraged by the explosion.
“I’d say about half, maybe less. We usually have the older Grisha help train the younger in their powers. Will is our top Healer, Drew is our top Heartrender, Percy was our top Tidemaker, etcetera, etcetera.” Annabeth stopped to look over a paper presented to her by a Suli girl before continuing on. Her pace was fast enough that Jason had to take larger steps to keep up.
“And what are you?”
Annabeth tossed her blonde curls over her shoulder and smiled back at him. “I’m - how would you Little Palace Grisha say it - otkazat'sya ? No powers like most of the kids here.”
“So then,” Jason found his curiosity getting the better of him. “How did you end up here?”
Drew and Will winced at his sides while Annabeth shrugged, her hand going to the knife on her hip again. “I came here with my older brother and sister almost ten years ago. Well, I call them siblings, but they really just found me on the side of the road and took me in. Long, boring story, I assure you.”
They passed through a building that seemed to act as a greenhouse to a bridge that led out to a smaller island where a warehouse sat by itself, smoke billowing from open windows on the top floor. Jason squinted his eyes. “So… why does an orphanage need an Artillery?”
Will strode in step beside him. “The older kids like us also do mercenary work on the side so that we’re not overly reliant on our sponsors.”
“Because of course you would.”
Drew and Annabeth snickered as a small boy threw open the door to the Artillery and waved at the group. Jason noticed that the kid was unusually buff for a child.
“Annabeth! Come look! Festus is barbequing the new guy!” He called from the doorway.
Annabeth’s eyebrows shot up and the four of them ran the rest of the way to him. “Harley? What do you mean?”
Harley laughed loudly and led them inside. “The new guy said that he was fire-proof, come see!”
Jason’s jaw hung open. “Do you mean Leo?”
Inside the warehouse were lots of tables covered in parts for guns and other weapons. A second floor oversaw the ground floor, that seemed to be where the smoke was coming from. Annabeth and Jason climbed up a metal ladder to the second floor and the Squaller gasped at what he saw.
As Jason was dragged out of the small bedroom by the giant that was Sherman, Will stuck his head back in and waved. “Sorry about that, tight schedule.”
Leo nodded, not really knowing what to think. Everything was moving too fast. All he wanted to do was cross the Fold and start over in Ketterdam, escape everything and anything involving the war, but now he found himself dragged into doing other people’s dirty work again. Yes, Annabeth scared him shitless, but he still shouldn't have agreed to track down her missing boyfriend with two total strangers, one of them being a cop no less!
“You in there?” Piper knocked on the side of his head. Leo snapped out of his thoughts and shrugged.
“Don’t know, am I?”
He had only known Piper for a week. They had met in Kribirsk, both fleeing the war west and got stuck on the same train. Neither of them expected the train to get ambushed by both the Second Army and Fjerdan Grisha hunters. Despite this, she was kind to him in a sisterly way. Rude sometimes, but meaning well. He was nervous at first to interact with her since she turned out to be a Heartrender, but it was obvious that she loathed her powers almost as much as Leo did with his own.
How did Annabeth guess I was a Grisha so quickly?
Will stepped away from the doorway to reveal a short girl with blonde pigtails standing behind him. “Piper, Leo, this is Lacy. She’s gonna show the two of you around the island while our Colonel friend talks to Annabeth. Don’t be fooled by her tiny stature, she’s a little menace.”
“I am not!” Lacy squeaked and stamped her foot. Leo thought she was adorable. Lacy was missing one of her bottom front teeth, which somehow made her anger cuter.
Piper laughed. “Of course you’re not. We’d be delighted to be given a tour by you, you seem to be the best woman for the job.”
Leo found himself feeling lighter at her words, but that was impossible. Heartrenders needed to touch their targets, right? At least to change emotions. Or did they just need to touch others to focus? He couldn’t remember what his mother taught him about Heartrenders.
Lacy spun around on her toes and led the two of them down a flight of stairs to a ginormous courtyard walled by buildings decorated by paintings of flowers and horses. The courtyard was home to a large strawberry garden being tended to by other children with nationalities from all over the world. One Tidemaker girl danced around the middle of the garden with water sprinkling around while the kids around her clapped and sang songs to motivate her. In another part of the courtyard, some older kids did yoga. On the side of a building, some children scaled the walls as fast as they could, laughing and giggling the entire way up. In another corner, kids sparred with bronze swords right next to a lean-to that was manned by a couple kids serving food.
“This is incredi--” Leo started to mumble, but was cut off by a giant bell at the top of the tallest building surrounding the courtyard ringing. They all covered their ears and Lacy spun around to walk backwards.
“That’s the lunch bell, everyone’s gonna go inside now so it’ll be less crowded. We call that building ‘Half-Blood Tower’, that’s where all of the important stuff happened. Like leader meetings, where Annabeth’s sister died, where our founders first set up camp, lots of stuff.”
Leo looked up to the tower and whistled. “Annabeth has a sister?”
“Yep! Thalia, the best Tracker in the world! I want to be just like her some day!” Lacy giggled and spun back around to keep walking.
Piper nudged Leo with a strange look. “But aren’t we going to Fjerda to free Thalia from the Ice Court? How does that make sense?”
“Oh, Thalia didn’t stay dead. Miss Clarisse found this cool amplifier thingy in the Wandering Isles a bunch of years ago and brought her back to life with it. And boom! Thalia was back!” Lacy waved her hands around in the air to simulate an explosion. Leo and Piper exchanged equally confused expressions, but kept pace behind the small girl with shared shrugs.
Lacy showed them around a few more buildings - a temple for Saints, a mess hall, dormitories, etc. - and ended her tour by taking them across a bridge outside of the wall of buildings to a warehouse on a separate island.
“And this is Bunker Nine: Jake’s Artillery! Well, Jake can’t work here anymore, he got himself all burned up, but Sherman’s been helping him get better!” Lacy knocked on the door to the Artillery with another giggle. “I think Sherman might like-like Jake.”
Leo remembered the giant Shu man who picked up Jason like he weighed nothing and nodded. Somehow, he couldn’t imagine Sherman working in an Infirmary. The warehouse door opened to a strangely muscular boy who couldn’t have been older than eight years old. “Are these the newbies?”
“Sure are! Harley, this is Leo and Piper. Leo and Piper, this is Harley, the best Fabrikator on the entire island!”
Piper bent over to Harley’s height. “How old are you, Harley?”
“Eight years old and counting!” He puffed out his chest.
“That’s what I thought.” She stood back up and ruffled his hair.
The children led them inside to a massive open space filled with work benches. A balcony overhead functioned as a second floor that, from what Leo could see, could be raised up and down to the needs of the people working inside. It looked to be accessible via a metal ladder leaned against the side of the balcony.
“What’s up there?” Leo stepped over to the ladder and looked straight up.
Harley swung himself around a metal beam that supported the roof. “Oh that’s Jake’s office. Every Head Fabrikator has worked up there at some point. But, there’s a dragon up there left over from the last Head Fabrikator.”
Leo and Piper’s eyebrows shot up as Lacy nodded and plopped herself down on a stool by a table. “Oh yeah, the old guy died and left behind this dragon and it turned Jake Mason into a piece of fried turkey.”
“Saints be with Beckandorf.” Harley nodded and crossed his chest.
Leo shook his head and started up the ladder. “An actual dragon?! He just left it behind?! How could he!?”
Piper cupped her hands around her mouth to call to him. “He did die, you know!”
The short man clambered up to the top of the ladder and hoisted himself up to the second floor with barely contained excitement. Just being in the Artillery felt so right, you know? His fingers had itched to touch and tinker with the various gadgets, sweet memories of his childhood overtaking and driving his curiosity.
Curled up at the far end of the second floor’s balcony was a giant heap of metal that glowed with hot coals powering it inside it’s chest. It was a dragon made out of metal. Leo was blown away, it was beautiful!
Leo crept closer and the dragon’s eyes opened, red lights fixating on him. “Holy Saints above, it’s alive!”
Harley shouted up from the ground floor. “Yep! Beckandorf was a master Fabrikator!”
“Was he a Durast or Alkemi?” Leo heard Piper ask.
Harley laughed again. “Both!”
The dragon lifted its head up and started to unravel its long body. It was large enough to carry a few people on its back, Leo noted. It sauntered towards him before it’s tail swept out and struck Leo in the gut, sending him sprawling to the side of the balcony, near the wall of the warehouse.
Piper screamed for him from the first floor and moved to the ladder, but Harley pulled her back, saying it was too dangerous. Leo grunted and got to his feet to see the dragon in his face baring its metallic fangs. Leo panicked and rolled to the side, barely avoiding being bitten in half. He felt a tug in the back of his mind as he pushed himself back to his feet and his stomach dropped. His Grisha powers had activated in his panic.
Oh shit.
The dragon turned to leap at him, its claws scratching the metal flooring of the balcony and sending up sparks. One spark flew higher than the rest and ignited the invisible vapors that Leo had accidentally created from his palms. The explosion smacked Leo’s head against the far wall and blew out the windows on the top floor of the Artillery.
“Come find me, Leo, don’t hide from me… you know exactly what you did to her. You cannot run forever.”
Leo snapped awake to see the dragon inching towards him, it’s eyes a little dimmer than they were before. His head throbbed and that cruel voice that whispered in his ear sent chills down his spine. He could hear a few people calling his name, but his ears rang too much to decipher who said what.
From this angle, he could see that the dragon’s chest did not glow as brightly anymore. He slipped onto his knees and tried to look as non threatening as possible to the beast. “Hey there…” he noticed the word “Festus” inscribed onto the dragon’s jaw. “Festus? Is that your name?”
The dragon responded and lowered its head weakly. Leo felt horrible for causing that explosion, it must have hurt the poor thing. He looked around for something to help and ended up dropping his gaze to his hands. Actually, to the rest of his body, too.
How the Saints am I not burnt even a little bit?
Leo searched his memory for all the times he had been caught in some sort of fire. Each time, he always managed to walk away unscathed. He usually chalked it up to luck, but stepping into the world of Grisha changed his perspective.
Are other Inferni fire-proof?
He cupped his mouth with his hands and shouted down to the ground floor. “Oi! I’m okay! I think I’m fire-proof!”
“Leo, get down here now!” Piper called back. Leo felt the urge to do so and got to his feet to climb back down the ladder, but Festus blocked his way with its body, hot steam and smoke billowing out of the dragon’s nostrils.
“One second, Pipes! I think Festus needs some help?” Leo pried the dragon’s mouth open and peered down into its gullet, the inner mechanisms of this grand machine fascinating him as the air boiled from the dragon’s heat. Any regular person would have been roasted alive, but Leo felt fine, great even! The coals burning in Festus’ stomach looked like they were dying out. How convenient that Leo - a person who could help kick-start a fire - stumbled upon the poor creature.
Leo looked Festus in its red eyes before tenderly sticking his arm down the dragon’s throat and opening his palm above the fire. He tried to find that tug on his mind that happened when he did that Grisha magic, but it took a little bit before he relaxed and let the hum of Festus drown out the other noises around him.
The tug appeared and Leo knew that those combustible gasses were leaking from his hand and into Festus’ stomach. Yet, nothing was igniting. He frowned and reached deeper in, this time diving into Festus’ mouth all the way to his hips.
“Festus, I need you to burp! I need a spark!” He kicked his legs back and forth as the dragon stood up and lifted him into the air.
The dragon seemed to understand and Leo watched as the metal walls of Festus’ stomach and throat constricted for a moment and snapped against each other, sparking and igniting the gas-filled chamber. Leo didn’t have time to move as the resulting explosion erupted out of Festus’ throat and mouth, engulfing him in the warm flames.
Jason’s jaw hung open as he saw Leo slide out of the metal dragon’s mouth, his shirt burned off and his hair smoking from the jet of flames that had just shot out of the beast’s mouth. Leo laughed and lovingly tapped the side of the dragon’s head while Jason stood gaping from the ladder.
“Atta boy, Festus! All better now!” Leo pressed his forehead to the dragon’s snout.
“Saints, are you okay?” Jason finally found the ability to speak. “What is that thing?”
Leo turned around and smiled at Jason. “Oh, hey man! Glad to see Annabeth didn’t kill you!”
Annabeth pouted from where she stood at the edge of the balcony. “I would never! Just had to scare him a little bit. I can’t believe you got Festus to calm down. For months, it wouldn’t let anyone get close enough to help reignite its stomach. Jake had almost his entire body burnt from just approaching the poor thing.”
Festus lowered its head and nudged Leo warmly. “Well, it seems to like me.”
“So you’re an Inferni?” Jason hoisted himself up, ignoring how soot and rust were now covering the stomach of his blue kefta .
Leo shrugged and rubbed Festus’ metal head, swearing that the dragon started to purr. It was weird, he realized, that he didn’t hate using his abilities for this. He never associated his Grisha powers with helping people, he had enough terrible memories and nightmares to reaffirm that mindset.
Yet, having Annabeth - the scariest person he’s ever met - look at him in awe, having a group of Grisha down below him clapping and cheering, leaving a Second Army officer speechless, having a literal dragon snuggle up to him like a kitten, it was surreal. It felt amazing. It felt like home.
“You crave their praises, yet you know deep down that they will betray and abandon you the second you stop being useful. Stop lying to yourself, Leo.”
There was that voice again. Sickeningly familiar and evil. Leo pushed it out of his mind and smiled at the others. “So, what’s next on the tour?”
Jason sat himself down at a table in the courtyard with a glass of water and nursed it while Leo - who was given a new shirt - Piper and Annabeth pulled up chairs around him. Piper rested her chin on her hands and tilted her head at the Squaller.
“So, we’re gonna go to Fjerda and find this Thalia person?” She blinked. Jason assumed she had some sort of Tailor abilities since her eyes changed colors with every blink.
The Colonel shrugged and watched as Will met two more people on the far end of the courtyard. Jason set his cup down and gestured to the trio in the distance. “Who’s that with Will?”
Annabeth leaned back and relaxed in her chair. “Oh, that’s his most frequent patient, Nico, and that fortune teller I was telling you about.” She pointed lazily at a tall girl with a head of bright red hair. “Rachel Elizabeth Dare, the Oracle. And yes, she’s the heir to the Dare Family, our sponsors.” She swung her finger around to the pale boy next to Will. “And that’s Nico di Angelo, one of our strongest Etherealki yet. He’s been searching Ravka for Percy’s wearabouts and Will is worried that extensive use of his powers is slowly killing Nico. But, he won’t be swayed. Percy is Nico’s idol.”
Jason nodded and finished his water. “Can I bring him with us as our fourth?”
“Nope.” Annabeth shook her head.
Piper frowned and sat up straight. “Why not? If he’s your most powerful Summoner, then won’t we want him with us when we break into the Ice Court?”
Leo muttered under his breath. “Yeah, if we get that far.”
Annabeth shrugged, her tailored clothing stood out against the renegade feel of the entire orphanage. “I have Nico on another assignment right now. Pick someone else.”
Jason watched the trio break apart and go their separate ways. “Can we bring Will?”
“Also no. While having a Healer would be helpful, Will, Sherman and Drew are all necessary for Long Island Sound to survive and thrive. And you can’t take any of the small children.”
The Squaller slumped down in his chair. “So much for having access to your ranks.”
Leo leaned over and clapped Jason on the shoulder. “Cheer up, Grace! Hey boss, who are your recommendations? Who are we allowed to snatch up for this suicide heist?”
Annabeth blinked and stared at Jason. “I’m sorry, what was your name again? I don’t think you actually told me.”
“Colonel Jason Grace, ma’am.” Jason sounded like he was repeating an order. Annabeth whispered his name under her breath while staring into his eyes before she smiled knowingly.
“You know what? I think the three of you will be just fine on your own. In fact, Leo, why don’t you take Festus? If you all can fly on Festus, you can avoid a lot of travel fees.”
Leo smiled widely. “Sounds great!”
Jason wasn’t so sure. Why was Annabeth staring at him like that? Did she recognize him and realize his stature in the Second Army? Was this her subtle way to tell him that she wasn’t going to sacrifice any of her orphans for him? Awfully convenient that Leo got the sentient Fabrikator dragon up and running for a cross-continent trip.
“Ten million.” He crossed his arms and stared directly into Annabeth’s eyes.
Leo and Piper fell silent as Annabeth’s smile held firm and she folded her hands on the table they shared. “Four.”
“Ten million or you can find someone else.” Her eyes tried to intimidate him again, but Jason held firm.
Annabeth cocked an eyebrow in amusement and her smile grew. “Four and a half million.”
“Nine and a half million.” Jason would play this game. If he was going to take these untrained Grisha and a fucking dragon behind enemy lines, he was going to be generously compensated for his part in it.
“Five million.” Annabeth’s voice remained perfectly sweet. This wasn’t her first rodeo.
“Nine million.”
“Five and a half million.”
“Eight and a half.” Jason uncrossed his arms and folded them on the table. Neither blinked.
“Six million, take it or leave it.” Annabeth leaned back and put her hands behind her head cooly.
“Seven million.” The Squaller refused to give up.
“Six and a half million. And I’ll throw in a safe house in Djerholm.” Annabeth had a victorious glimmer in her eyes.
Jason grit his teeth. It was a good deal. Having a safe house for them to stake out their invasion on the Ice Court was more than he had imagined would be on the table. “6.75 million kruge , safe house and the dragon. Final deal.”
“Done.” Annabeth leaned forward and held out her hand. Jason shook it, feeling like he just made a deal with the devil.
Piper waved her hands between them. “Wait, wait, wait, you’re getting paid ?! And you’ve got a safehouse in the capital of Fjerda?! What is happening right now?!”
Leo whistled. “Just how extensive is your reach, lady?”
Annabeth chuckled lightly. “That’s a secret, Mister Valdez, but the safe house is probably the best part of that deal. Hotel Valhalla is run by my cousin Magnus and his friends. You also won’t find a better Healer on that side of the True Sea than Magnus. You’re in good hands with him and his crew.”
“How did you know my last name--”
Jason cut Leo off while crossing his arms again. “We’ll take it. Thank you. When do you want us to set out?”
Leo tried to ask his question again, but Annabeth and Jason were back to ignoring him. The blonde woman’s smile turned genuine. “Hopefully in a few days. Will wants you to remain here for a few days to monitor how that poison affected your powers and I think Leo would want to explore a little more.”
The Inferni stopped trying to speak up and pouted. “Yeah… I would like to explore more.”
Piper waved her hand again. “Yeah, okay, cool, what’s this about getting paid six point seventy-five million kruge ?! ”
Annabeth gave her a calm glance. “Just a little incentive for Colonel Grace to perform his best. And to answer your question, Leo, I heard your name in a dream. They’ve started to become more and more life-like the longer Percy is away. This usually happens to me when something big is about to happen.”
Leo slumped down in his chair. “Oh great, the universe is out to get us too. When’s dinnertime?”
Jason was being continuously blown away by the little details of Long Island Sound. Unlike the Little Palace, the dorms and seatings in the mess hall were arranged by age and it seemed that everyone was involved in the preparation of the buffett that everyone ate from. There was food from all of the nations and even mixtures of cultures and flavors, just like the children who called themselves “Half-Bloods”.
He sat himself down at a table by himself and smiled politely as Piper slid herself in next to him. “Leo got dragged over to sit with Harley and the other baby Fabrikators, so I hope you don’t mind being seen next to me.”
Jason snorted and made room for her on the bench that acted as a seat for the entire table, mindlessly stabbing his salad with his fork. “It looked like that little blonde girl liked you.”
“Oh, Drew invited me to come sit with her friends, but you looked sad.” Piper set down her own salad and set her elbows on the table. “And, I mean, if I’m going to have to go all the way to Djerholm and then Saints know where after somehow successfully breaking a bunch of people out of the Ice Court, I at least want us to be familiar with each other.”
The Squaller nodded, he appreciated her honesty. Piper pushed her messy hair out of her face and leaned her head on her hand. Jason scooped a portion of his salad into his mouth. “So what do you want to know? If you want inside information on the Little Palace and the Second Army, it’s not happening.”
Piper laughed and shook her head. “No, I wanna know the mundane things. What’s your favorite color?”
“Purple.” Jason answered without thinking. “You?”
“Hmm…” Piper looked up to think. “Red. Not pink.”
“Do you always specify that you prefer red over pink when telling people your favorite color?” Jason snickered.
“No…” Piper bit her lip to keep from smiling incriminatingly.
The kefta wearing man laughed out loud. “Liar! There’s no shame in liking pink!”
She huffed and stabbed into her salad, impaling a poor cherry tomato and sending its guts flying across her plate. Across the mess hall, Jason spied Leo getting lit on fire by young Inferni who all giggled loudly at seeing that he didn’t burn. Piper followed his gaze and sighed.
“So we’re actually doing this?”
Jason pushed his plate away and folded his arms on the table to rest his head on them. “Seems like it. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”
“It seems like fun and I’ve got nothing else to do.” The Heartrender shrugged. “I want to prove to these people that I can be helpful.”
“Helpful?”
Piper shrugged. “When Leo and I were getting ready to cross the Fold, Jaz - the Conductor - she told us that we’d most likely blend in with all the other refugees funneling in here, not stand out. That worked for us, we wanted to disappear, run away from our pasts. Yet, when we were on the boat ride across the sea, you below deck getting poison sucked out of your hand, and I saw all of the Half-Bloods - most of them younger than us - rushing around with their various jobs practiced to perfection, it made me feel…”
“Useless?” Jason sat up.
“Like I was an inconvenience to them. Like it was somehow my fault that the drüskelle ambushed the train. Maybe it was. I don’t know. I instantly changed my mind of vanishing into the woodwork of Ketterdam and I wanted to be involved. So when Annabeth pulled Leo and I aside and told us about making you go North to find Percy Jackson, I jumped on it. I wanted to pull my own weight, you know?”
The Squaller nodded and took another bite of his salad. “And then there’s me who got threatened with mutilation.”
“And a fuck ton of money.” Piper raised her water cup like she was giving a toast.
“And a fuck ton of money.” A smile crept onto his face as he raised his own and clinked it against hers.
Jason and Piper finished their meal together, asking each other questions about each other. Jason learned that Piper was a vegetarian, he revealed to her that he was raised by wolves - she called him “dog-boy” - and they didn’t feel like strangers anymore. Eventually, Leo migrated over to them and plopped himself down in front of them, his new shirt smoking and singed from being lit on fire multiple times. “Fancy running into the two of you here.”
“So what time do we want to head out? The sooner we free Thalia and the Hunters, the better.” Jason pushed his empty plate away as Piper remembered to finish hers and quickly horked it down.
Leo hummed and looked around. At some point during the meal, Annabeth had vanished off towards the strawberry garden. “I think the boss wants us to leave within the week. Harley and Will promised me that they can hook us up with some supplies, but nothing about money.”
Piper quickly washed down her food with her water. “If Annabeth’s already throwing almost seven million kruge at Jason to get this done, there’s probably not much other funding she can give us.”
Jason nodded. “And I doubt she would be dumb enough to give me such a large amount of money upfront.”
“Maybe you can ask her to give you that 0.75 million ahead of time so that we have some spending money?” Leo looked between them.
The Squaller shrugged. “She’s paying in kruge , not vlanchki . Do you think she would convert it for us, or would she make us convert it ourselves? Are they even worth the same thing anymore since Ravka’s racking up debt? By paying us in kruge , are we actually making more money than she realizes, or is this intentional since the Half-Bloods’ sponsor is Ravkan?”
The Inferni groaned and dropped his head onto the table. “Money stuff hurts my brain.”
Drew waved at them from across the mess hall and Piper slid off of the bench. “Sounds tough, we can talk about it more in the morning. Goodnight, boys!”
“G’night, Pipes.” Leo didn’t pull his head up.
Jason waved to her as she left. “Goodnight!”
Jason and Leo were led to a building that seemed to have been a hotel at one point. Each of the six floors were long hallways walled off by doors to rooms all occupied by various children and Grisha. They were given a room to share and Leo instantly called the top bunk. This was fine by Jason, he wanted to sleep on the bottom bunk in case he needed to spring out of bed during the night.
He was also given an extra set of clothing to wear besides his kefta , but the Squaller couldn’t part with it just yet. It was the final layer of defense that he wanted to cling on to, even if it made the children of the orphanage give him nervous looks.
Okay so maybe I should change into something else so that way Sherman will stop sharpening knives around me.
Jason waited for Leo to step out of the room to locate a bathroom and slid out of his kefta , feeling part of his soul part with it. He felt cold and exposed without it, but perhaps that was a good thing. He needed to embrace this new adventure fully or a freshly sharpened cleaver awaited him.
Yeah, no pressure.
He was buttoning up the white dress shirt provided for him when Leo returned and climbed onto his bunk. “G’night, Super-Jace.”
“So I’ve evolved to nickname status with you as well?” Jason pulled his ratty blankets back and slid onto the lumpy mattress.
“It’s better than Dog-Boy, isn’t it?”
“And Pipes.”
“And Pipes.” Leo chuckled.
“Wow you really just named her after water pipes, didn’t you.”
“Sewage pipes, actually.” The Inferni corrected.
“Goodnight, Leo.” Jason snickered to himself and pulled his blanket up to his chin.
~~~
The woman had a familiar face, but not one that anyone could claim they knew. Her features shifted and changed like wind-blown soil and her eyes cried mud. Her hair was made up of dirty leaves and her nails dripped with pebbles. Her dress was made of sheets of dust and her feet sunk into the ground like roots.
“Can you feel your heart beating? Can you feel the struggle within? The fear within me is beyond anything your soul can make. You cannot kill me in a way that matters.”
Her features grew exaggerated and grotesque, her mud eyes growing to the size of dinner plates and her mouth dropping open to the size of wagon wheels. Oil spilled from her lips in copious amounts, flooding the world and destroying everything it touched. From the bubbling oil, volcra pulled themselves up as they were created and took to the sky, blocking out the moon with the flapping of their wings. The air trembled with fear and awe of the woman’s power.
“Decay exists as an extant form of life.”
Notes:
Yes I directly quoted that one tumblr post silence
Chapter 4: Hazel & Percy
Summary:
The memorial service for Jason is underway, what else will we learn about our protagonists?
Notes:
I AM AWARE THAT IS HAS BEEN A YEAR AND A HALF I ONLY FINISHED THE OUTLINE FOR THIS FIC YESTERDAY
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.