welcome to the storm (i am thunder)

by maverickk

Summary:

The rivalry began long before Percy Jackson and Jason Grace met. It began with one arriving at the other's Camp, with one filling the other's shoes. A rivalry does not need attention to grow. It will feed, and fester, and bloat until it is confronted and either defeated or fulfilled.

---

Percy's problem isn't with Jason. It's with the Romans' way of things. It's with their child army, and their blind compliance to the gods, and their harsh standards and the division between their cohorts. Praetor Jason Grace is just the easiest target.

Jason doesn't have an issue with Percy. He just has an issue with how much acknowledgement the gods give the Greeks, with how low the Greeks' lifespan is, with how much freer and happier the Greeks are. He has an issue with the fact that his father still won't acknowledge him, won't talk to him. He has an issue with the sense of wrongness the idea of being Greek or Roman gives him. Maybe Percy is just the easiest scapegoat, but...Jason has no other target.

Notes:

title from The Horror and The Wild by The Amazing Devil

Chapter 1: how bold i was

Training wasn’t Jason’s favorite pastime on the Argo II.

They spent enough time on their feet with their weapons in their hands as it was. Adding daily drills into the mix? There wasn’t a single day his muscles didn’t ache, he was practicing his footwork in his sleep, and his ears rang all the time from the constant, deafening clashing of blades.

At least, he thought as he parried Frank’s jab, it wasn’t his one-on-one day with Percy.

It had been Annabeth’s idea. They trained constantly at Camp, she reasoned, and being on a months-long quest wasn’t cause to stop; if anything, it was a reason to train harder. Coach Hedge agreed immediately, and once she secured Percy’s vote, it was over. She drew up a schedule, and they began the next day. An hour and a half straight of Annabeth shouting drills and positions, of running laps around the deck, of pushups and sit-ups and burpees and weights training and the gods-damned pacer test. An hour and a half of grueling exercises, and then a ten minute break.

Ten minutes. That’s it.

Only ten minutes to rest before the sparring session. The way Annabeth drew it up had them rotating: five days of sparring, with a different partner each day, followed by one day paired with Percy. On the seventh day, they rested.

When Piper asked why partnering with Percy was the week’s endgame, Annabeth had just smiled.

When Hazel asked why Percy didn’t get days off, Percy had just smiled.

Jason didn’t like it. No one in their right mind enjoyed not having days off training. Even Reyna liked days off of training. And maybe if she were here, he’d get her on his side, but she wasn’t, and Jason was stuck.

Frank swept the shaft of his pilum at Jason’s feet, and he barely managed to jump out of the way.

Piper watched from the control console, shouting encouragement to Hazel, whose Imperial Gold spatha was up against Annabeth’s Celestial Bronze kopis. An even match, Jason thought. Just like his spear against Frank’s pilum. Nice pairings. And then there was Leo and Percy’s match. Percy had Riptide, his leaf-shaped xiphos, while Leo was wielding a double-headed battle axe. He’d modified it; added flashy, ornate bronze flames to the handle, and tempered the heads until they could withstand him lighting them on fire.

Jason finally managed to cut Frank’s pilum in two, and they both immediately turned to watch the match. Soon after, Hazel knocked Annabeth’s sword from her hands, and they did the same.

Leo had been aching to use his axe all week. Percy was the only one who had experience against axes, Annabeth had argued, so to avoid accidents, Leo would have to wait until his spar with Percy. Today was the day he’d been waiting for, and he wasn’t holding back. Even with Leo enthusiastically swinging at him, Percy managed to look completely at ease. He pointed out missteps, corrected Leo’s grip and footwork, and danced closer to adjust his stance with a smack with the flat of his blade before dodging out of range and resuming the fight.

After a while, Percy backed up and flourished his sword. “I think you’re ready, Leo,” he said with a grin. “All out?”

“I hate all out,” Leo complained, but adjusted his stance and his grip on his axe. “Please don’t hurt me.”

“This is training, Leo,” Percy replied. “Don’t let yourself get hurt.” With that, he threw himself forward.

Leo’s defense was stronger than his offense, but neither were holding up well against Percy. He’d gotten inside Leo’s reach in about ten seconds, then started whaling on him like a punching bag. Jason knew from experience—he was only using the flat of Riptide’s blade, and Leo had leather arm guards on, but he’d be a walking bruise for the next few days. With luck, he’d heal up just in time for his next one-on-one against Percy. All that was left was waiting—the duel would end either when Leo got a hit on Percy, or Percy decided he was done smacking Leo around.

As the minutes passed, it became increasingly clear that Leo wouldn’t get a hit. “Come on, Leo,” Percy urged. “One hit. You’re gonna face someone more skilled than me, someday.”

“Oh, please,” Leo scoffed, yelping as Riptide connected with his rib cage. “No one’s more skilled than you.”

Jason stopped listening. He couldn’t argue; in all the years he’d been in the Legion, and now the almost-year he had at Camp, he’d never seen anyone better at fighting than Percy. Annabeth came close, and maybe a few others, but Percy was on his own level of skill. Everything thrown at him was blocked, parried, or thrown right back with the same level of intensity. It still hurt to hear. That his friends put more trust in Percy than Jason to protect them, that they thought he was better. It hurt, and he tried not to let it, but it was true. He was better.

In one of Jason’s one-on-one sessions, they’d both been using spears. Percy had looked less sure of himself than normal, but he’d still had Jason flat on his ass in under five minutes. In one of Piper’s one-on-ones, Percy had been using a knife to fend off Katoptris. While the spar had lasted longer than any of the fights where he’d been using Riptide, Piper hadn’t gotten one hit in. She came away with barely intact vambraces and even more bruises than usual. Even Annabeth could barely win against him. Their spars always lasted the longest, paced the fastest, drew the most blood. Percy didn’t use the flat of the blade when he fought Annabeth, and neither did she. With her favored dagger, and a spare knife she’d picked up from their measly ship armory, and her five years more training than Percy had, the two were evenly matched.

Jason couldn’t understand it, couldn’t figure out how.

Leo tripped backwards trying to dodge Riptide, and his axe went scattering across the deck. Spar over. “Practice your footwork,” Percy instructed as he helped Leo up, “and work on your grip. The rest we can work on again next week.” Leo nodded and went after his axe.

Percy turned to face the others. How he did it, Jason would never know, but somehow he managed to keep track of the others’ fights as well as his own, and always gave encouragement and feedback. “Good job, Frank,” he noted today. “Hand-on-hand with a throwing weapon isn’t easy.”

“Yeah, well,” Frank blushed, “you can’t exactly throw things at Jason and expect a hit.”

Jason pasted a grin on his face. “You’re welcome to try,” he offered. Frank snorted and shook his head.

Percy turned to the girls. “Nice footwork, Hazel. You’re improving quickly.” Hazel flushed with pride and nodded her thanks. “Annabeth.” Percy’s eyes met hers with an amused glow. “You were distracted.”

She shrugged. “Your fight was something. Can you blame me?”

“Yeah, I can,” Percy replied back, getting closer. His eyes were bright and his smile mischievous. “Hazel’s formidable. She could’ve hurt you for real.”

Annabeth got closer too, grinning at Percy’s challenge. “We’ll just have to work on distractions during our next spar, then,” she drawled.

Percy smirked down at her. “I think I can manage that.”

“Break it up, you two!” Hedge shouted from the rail.

“Jealous, Gleeson?” Percy snarked, turning to the satyr. “We can work on distractions, too, if you want.”

Coach Hedge blew a raspberry at Percy and eyed his club. “How ‘bout we work on dodging, instead?”

Percy grinned deviously. “Oh, you’re so on.” He turned to the rest of them. “That’s it for you guys. Stick around if you feel like it.”

Jason wouldn’t. His first priority was a hot shower to sooth his aching muscles, and if that distracted him from how his friends trusted Percy more than him? Even better. As Jason walked belowdecks, he could hear Percy telling Hedge, “If it won’t break a bone on contact, you’re not swinging hard enough. Ready?”

A whistle, and the sounds of a fight began.

No one else came with him. Well, that was their loss. Jason would get the hottest water.

---

Annabeth was preening. She’d been timing everyone’s spars with Percy. In only three weeks of crossing the ocean, she said, the group average time had risen by seven seconds. Longer spars built muscles more efficiently than just exercising, apparently, and it meant they were getting better at fighting. It was time to throw in some variables, she had decided.

They landed on a rocky beach in Spain.

“You’re kidding,” Piper breathed. She stood, arms akimbo, atop a boulder as tall as Leo.

“No,” she replied, “but I have a treat for after our sparring session.” The determination in Annabeth’s grin left no room for argument. Jason thought perhaps she’d have faced more resistance if it wasn’t her day to fight Percy. As it was, Jason and Leo paired up with little grumbling, while Hazel climbed to take Piper’s place on the boulder while she slid down to spar Frank.

Percy slowly backed up towards the water before Annabeth caught him and laughed. “Get back here, Seaweed Brain.”

“Maybe you should come get me, Wise Girl,” he called. A wave crested behind him, reaching across the shore to tickle the back of his sneakers.

“Any of those waves come any closer, and I’ll think you’re scared,” she taunted, flourishing her kopis as she stalked forward. Jason turned his attention to Leo; the gladius he’d taken to training with when he wasn’t using his axe was already flickering with fire.

Jason won by a much slimmer margin than he had last week. Leo’s footwork was miles better than it had been when they started, and while his technique with his sword was more fit for his axe, it did its job keeping Jason on his toes. When he glanced around, Frank had Piper’s knife, Katoptris, under his boot. She was chatting with him as they watched Percy and Annabeth.

The two of them had floated down the beach. Percy had a bleeding cut on his forehead, and Annabeth’s sword arm was held to her chest, dagger gripped tightly in the other fist. The group of them shouted in shock as Annabeth charged Percy. He danced to the side, twisting and tripping her, sending her tumbling to the sand. She laid there for a few seconds before rolling to her feet and sniping a comment to Percy. He shrugged. They stopped sparring just long enough to trade weapons, and then the fight was on again. It was, perhaps, the closest fight he’d ever seen Percy win. Annabeth caught Riptide on Percy’s bicep, and instead of flinching away from the cut, Percy shoved closer, making his wound worse and getting his other arm around her neck in one move.

Annabeth did not stop shouting about ‘reasonable risks’ and ‘reckless behavior’ until Percy emerged from the ocean with a ripped sleeve and a raised red line underneath, and they both approached the others.

“Frank! Great job, man,” Percy grinned, “spear on knife fights are hard.” Frank blushed and shrugged as Percy offered Piper advice on fighting with reduced reach against a longer weapon. “And Leo, bro—I know you prefer your axe, but your sword play is getting a lot better. You’ve really been keeping up practicing your footwork, huh?” Leo blushed, too. What was it with people and blushing when Percy complimented them?

“I hope none of you are too tired,” Annabeth said. She side-eyed Percy, before lurching forward, smacking Piper’s arm, and shouting, “Tag, you’re it!”

Piper squealed in excitement, and immediately turned to Jason. He bolted. Leo tripped backwards trying to follow Hazel and Frank around a boulder to higher ground, and Percy started leaping from one boulder to another. Jason couldn’t look back to check, but loud cussing made him guess Leo’d been tagged. He grinned and sprinted faster.

Leo tagged Frank, who zeroed in and chased Hazel down, and in turn she tackled Annabeth. It wasn’t until Annabeth tagged Percy that Jason got worried. He hadn’t been it yet. Percy was going to try and hunt him down. What kind of training was this? Endurance? Terrain? Strategy? Jason could clear his footprints with some wind, but was that cheating?

He decided not to. Percy was sneakier and could run farther, but Jason could run faster. All he had to do was lead Percy to someone else, and he could tag them. Jason stopped, crouching in the shadow of a massive boulder, careful not to disturb the pebbles beneath his feet, and tried to hear something past his heartbeat.

On the other side of the boulder, someone kicked a rock. Jason grinned and bolted the opposite direction. A second of silence, and then—the sounds of pursuit. “Give up now, Grace!” Percy called cheerfully.

“I’m good,” Jason shot back. He dodged a few huge rocks, hurdled some smaller ones. He skidded to a stop in front of one and turned to face Percy. His eyes were narrowed at Jason, and Jason feinted right. Percy leapt, and Jason quickly changed gears and ran left. But when he turned to check his pursuer’s progress, he saw Percy on the ground in front of the rock, curled up and gripping his foot.

“Oh, no.” No, no, no. A broken toe, foot, or ankle could put someone out of commission for weeks. They needed Percy; he was their strongest player. Jason jogged over, reaching for the square of ambrosia he kept in his pocket.

As he detangled it from his baggie of bandaids and his small roll of gauze, Percy’s hand wrapped around Jason’s ankle and pulled him to the ground. Jason landed hard on his butt. “You’re it,” he panted with a grin, stretching out and wiggling his feet happily. He started laughing between breaths, and Jason couldn’t help but join him.

A shrill scream pierced the air.

They were on their feet in an instant. The whole way, Percy was half a step in front of Jason. He charged into the clearing Hazel was in, sword still growing from its pen as he threw himself at the earthborn surrounding her.

Jason took his cue and skidded to a stop in front of Hazel. While Percy protected them, he made sure she was alright. “Hazel! Are you okay? What happened?”

“Some of these boulders?” She shook her head. “Not boulders. I was hiding behind a pile of them, and then they moved.” Her spatha already had a light gold dusting, and Jason found himself immensely glad she’d been doing so well in training.

“Shit!” Percy’s shout drew both of their eyes to him. Behind the three earthborn he was already fighting, another five were uncurling from where they’d been disguised as boulders, roused by the noise. Percy bit his lip, eyes darting from one monster to another. “Guys?” Riptide twirled in his fingers. The hilt was backward, blade running back to Percy’s elbow. “Run.”

And with that, he plunged his blade into the sand at his feet.

Nothing happened for a long, quiet moment, and Jason’s heart sank.

Percy pulled Riptide out, and started to run towards them. The sand where he’d been standing rumbled. Another moment later, a loud swoosh cracked through the air, and the earthborn vanished beneath it. The sand erupted like something below it exploded, and began to sink, faster and faster, radiating out until there was a tug at Jason’s sneakers.

He grabbed Hazel’s hand and listened to Percy; he ran. He ran until he heard Percy behind them slow to a stop, and turned to look.

A huge area, round like a whirlpool, sank down in a cone. Boulders from the size of a car to ones closer to Jason’s sneaker had fallen in the funnel and sunk down. In the center of the sinkhole, maybe fifty feet away, a single earthborn hand reached out, a rock shaped almost like an obelisk sticking out of the sand where the rest of the monster would be. As they watched, the hand disintegrated.

“What…” That had nothing to do with water. That had nothing to do with the ocean. Was Poseidon the god of beaches?

Percy bent over, putting his hands on his knees and panting. “Earthshaker.” He shook his head. “Dick.”

---

Thunder crashed, and Jason would swear later that it shook his teeth in his skull. He’d never heard anything even half as loud before. It screamed over the howling wind, demanding to be heard. The wind itself was vicious, tearing at everything in its path, trying to rip them up and fling them into the raging sky. Stinging rain pounded the deck in sheets, pummeling the ship as if trying to punch millions of little holes in it.

The waves, as tall as the Argo II itself, rocked the ship so violently he was certain they’d capsize soon. One after the other after the other pounded the warship. Jason would have lost his balance, maybe even fallen overboard by now, if he hadn’t been bungee corded to the mast.

The rain and the winds bucked against his control, and Jason refocused on trying to rein them in. Every muscle he had was shaking with the effort; these winds were wild. They refused to recognize Jason as their master.

Next to him, Percy seemed to be similarly struggling with the waves. He stood braced on the deck, glaring out at the ocean as if it had personally offended him. At his sides, his hands were open, fingers tense. Jason watched as he breathed deeply, and slowly clenched them into fists so tight Jason thought he might be drawing blood.

As his fists closed, the waves collapsed in on themselves. They broke against each other, against the ship, against the air, as if breaking on a beach. The ship rocked dangerously back and forth once, twice, three times more, before the ocean was calm.

Jason’s jaw dropped. The sea was as still as a mirror. Not even the rain made ripples in the calm sheet, because the rain had frozen in place, floating in the sky. The wind howled furiously, demanding its companion return to its side, but Percy growled viciously, and a few long moments later, it too died.

“Percy…” Words had abandoned him.

Jason’s father was the Lord of the Sky. How was Percy commanding the rain and the winds? And the—Jason watched, disbelief blooming in his chest as the rain danced down gently, trying not to wake the sleeping sea, and the charcoal, almost black storm clouds curled in on themselves and melted away to reveal the sun.

Jason hadn’t been able to wrangle the rain. The wind had ignored him. He’d been struggling too much to even think about the clouds yet. It didn’t make sense. Percy’s heritage granted him power over the ocean. Was it because this was a storm on the sea? How did it connect? The rain, Jason could understand. It was water. Clouds were a stretch. But wind?

Jason shook his head as Percy turned to him, tired grin painting his face in a mischievous light. “Stormbringer,” he panted, gazing out at the clear, calm picture Jason couldn’t even have imagined ninety seconds ago. He huffed out a laugh. “Asshole.”

The title echoed in Jason’s ears. Stormbringer.

Jason just blinked. Earthshaker. Stormbringer. Lord of the Seas. And damn, he gave Percy all of it.

Was that why Poseidon favored Percy? Because he was so powerful? On the flip side, was that why Jupiter didn’t care about Jason? Was Jason too weak for a child of Olympus’ King? Maybe if Jason worked harder, trained with his powers more, they’d grow. Maybe then his dad would love him. Besides, if Poseidon was the more powerful of the two, he’d have become King, wouldn’t he?

Jason tamped down on the train of thoughts swirling around Percy, and his power, and how he shouldn’t be more powerful than the son of the King—he tamped down on the jealousy and the hurt and the hope that practice would earn him more power, to impress his father with—and just resolved to train harder.

Chapter 2: remember me i ask

Jason’s shift had been exhausting. It seemed that a harpy or griffin or seagull attacked every five seconds. The second Percy had shown up on deck to take over watch, Jason had clapped him on the back and stumbled down to his cabin. He didn’t even remember making it to bed, but he must have, because he jolted up from his pillow and almost fell off his bed in a jerky attempt to reach his sword when his door flung open and smacked the wall with a loud bang.

“Jason!” Leo exclaimed, barreling through the door and pouncing on Jason’s bed. “Jason, Jason, Jason Jason Jason!” Leo bounced on his hands and knees, shaking the bed beneath him.

“What?” asked a bewildered Jason. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes as Leo settled down. “Did something—“

“Yes, something happened!” Leo interrupted. “Percy took Annabeth’s shift again. You know what that means!”

Jason did know what that meant. Once in a blue moon, Annabeth would let Percy take her guard shift, and Hazel, Frank, Leo, and Piper had strong-armed her into making those nights story nights. Jason groaned and collapsed back onto his pillow.

He didn’t have anything against the stories, honestly. It’s just—there’s only so many times Jason can hear about Percy Jackson’s quests before he gets bored. It’s become predictable: Percy mouths off to a god, Percy pulls off a feat that should be impossible, Percy slays a monster no one has managed to kill since Hercules.

He wouldn’t mind hearing the others’ stories, but they don’t exactly have them. Of the seven demigods on board, one was Percy, and Percy’s stories were Annabeth’s stories. Piper and Leo had only been on the one quest, with Jason. Frank and Hazel had only been on one quest, with Percy. Besides Percy’s, what stories were there?

His.

Jason shook his head, stopping that line of thinking cold. He wasn’t jealous. “Come on, Jason!” Leo cried. “Annabeth’s going to tell us how he blew up the St. Louis Arch!”

It seemed Jason’s life was separated into two parts: before amnesia, and after amnesia. Before, when he thought about the explosion at the Arch, rare as it was, he scoffed at the idiot who thought attacking a National Monument would break the country. Now he just scoffed at the idiot who thought it would be a good idea to jump off a 600ft tall building.

“And he survived!” Leo kept talking, ignorant to the fact that Jason wasn’t listening. “Who can survive that? Annabeth’s gonna tell us how—“

Jason tried to pinpoint the feeling in his chest. Buried deep within derision and exasperation. Was it desire for variety? Boredom? Was it envy? Jason allowed himself to wonder, for a moment, how it would feel to have his friends marvel at his quests, and his achievements, like they did Percy’s. Would he be proud? Embarrassed?

“—and he killed the Minotaur twice, that’s where he learned to fight against axes, and—“

Percy didn’t like the extra attention. Why? Jason couldn’t understand. It felt good, to have your deeds acknowledged. To have your friends praise you, brag about you to others, marvel at you. Jason would have to ask him, one day.

Jason sighed, and got out of his bed. “Did I ever tell you,” he asked Leo, “about the time I met Bacchus?”

“Did you shout at him? Percy shouted at him, this one time, and he didn’t even get turned into a dolphin! Mr. D just—“ Leo kept chattering away at his side as they meandered to the mess hall. Maybe Percy didn’t like the attention, Jason mused, because he’d never been swept aside for someone else.

---

This, Jason decided, was not a good place to be. They were surrounded. The only advantage he could see was that they were in a room with only one exit. 

One way out, one way in. The monsters would have to bottleneck their way into the room, or come in one-by-one. By swapping out fighters, they could weather this decently well where they’d taken shelter. The only real issue was—“Percy, you can’t go out there.”

“Like hell I can’t,” Percy growled, almost on autopilot. Jason wondered if maybe it had been; Sorry, Percy’s busy preparing to go to war right now, but have an automatic contradictory statement while you wait. He adjusted the straps of his chest plate, checked his vambraces, and uncapped Riptide. Jason slid in front of the barricaded door before he could charge out.

“You’re our hardest hitter, Percy. We should open the door, let them come in, and take them out through the bottleneck. We need to keep you in reserve until we find a good place for you.” Percy marched right up to Jason, putting them toe-to-toe, nose-to-nose.

“I need you to listen to me, Jason, because I’m only going to say this once,” Percy stressed. “You Roman leaders might be okay with sitting back and sending your people out to die, but I’m not.” Jason couldn’t stop the flinch, the shock that burst on his face, because that wasn’t true—“So I’m going out. I’m our front line. Anything that makes it past me is your job.” Percy pushed roughly past him.

“We don’t send our people to die!” Jason exclaimed when he found his voice, when he was able to push past his shock and turn to face Percy.

“What’s the point of a runner, Jason?” Percy grunted, pushing a heavy desk away from the door.

“To send orders to the armies—“

“Why aren’t the ones giving the orders fighting with their armies?”

Jason couldn’t answer in a way Percy wouldn’t twist. He stood, watching, as Percy removed the last piece of the barricade. “Close the door behind me—“

“Percy,” Annabeth snapped, “I won’t just sit here while you—“

“Just for 60 seconds, A,” Percy told her. “I just need to thin the herd. Then you can go with Jason’s plan and let them in. All I need is a minute to take out the biggest bad guys.”

Annabeth glanced between Jason and Percy, biting her lip as she considered. She sent one last meaningful glare at Percy, then nodded. “60 seconds. Piper, get ready. As soon as the door opens, I want you confusing the monsters.” Annabeth moved to the door handle. Percy cracked his neck, shook his arms a few times, and nodded.

The door swung open, and Piper shouted, “Put your left leg in and shake it all about!” Leo shrugged and followed her instructions and the monsters outside did the same. Percy charged, and Annabeth slammed the door behind him.

Jason had never previously thought one minute was a long time. Their ten minute break before sparring seemed insanely short, like it was over in a blink. This? This moment wouldn’t end. The clanging of blades beyond the door was hard to hear over his heartbeat. Had it been a minute yet? It had felt like dozens of them.

“Hazel, Leo, you’re up first. Kill ten, swap out. Let us know when you start to slow down,” Annabeth ordered, reaching for the door.

Ten, she mouthed. Nine, eight…

Something screeched, its ear-splitting cry shaking the door. Jason’s hands flew to his ears, as did a few of the others’.

Annabeth stood stock still. Six, five, four…

The door shook hard in its hinges, like something had been thrown into it. “Alright, that’s it,” Percy snarled, and something else howled.

Three, two…

One.

Annabeth threw the door open, and stepped back. Hazel raised her sword, Leo at her back raising his axe. A monster burst into the room, looking around frantically. It wailed when it saw no doors and only thin, barred windows along the top of the walls, before turning to look out, and then running into Leo’s axe.

It fell, moaned, and dissolved.

Piper and Jason shared a concerned look. Hazel took a few steps forward and peeked out. “Oh my gods,” she breathed. The rest of them crowded to the door to take a peek.

The room Percy stood in was covered in gold dust. Two or three monsters stood opposing him, while the others scrabbled at the walls, ran for the doors, jumped at the windows. Percy parried a clawed hand, thrust his hand out, and a small puddle flew from the floor into its nose and mouth.

As that monster clawed at its throat, Percy turned to the next.

Jason let out a shuddering breath. “Oh.”

Was it a Greek thing? This level of power? Did their leaders fight because nothing and no one could beat them? Hazel vaporized a few monsters that came too close, but that was only a few. The rest had fled, out the main door to the basement and up the stairs. The windows, high up on the wall, set just so Jason could see the feet of those on the streets, showed talons and claws and slithery tails fleeing in all different directions.

At the sound of a sword running something through, Jason turned back to Percy. He had a dracaena impaled, Riptide running from its belly button out the back of its neck. Piper and Leo’s eyes were averted, and they looked pretty green. Jason couldn’t look away as the monster dissolved.

Annabeth crossed her arms and slowly tapped her foot. “Just the biggest bad guys, hm?” She asked, entirely unimpressed.

Percy sucked his lips in and ran a sheepish hand through his dust-covered hair. “Y’know, they all kinda looked about the same size?”

Annabeth barked out a laugh and shook her head. “One of these days,” she promised, pointing at her boyfriend, “I’ll get my turn to kill a whole army.”

“I’m very sorry I didn’t save any for you,” Percy apologized. He and Annabeth headed up the stairs, leaving the others to follow on their own.

“They were scared of him,” Piper whispered. “I’ve never…”

“I’m super glad he’s on our side,” Leo agreed, staring after them.

Maybe, one of these days, Jason would try to take on an army, too. Maybe then, his friends would be glad he was on their side. Maybe then, Percy wouldn’t look at him and see a leader who’d send his people to die.

Maybe then, he’d feel like he was good enough.

Notes:

mmmmm very slepy it's 5am let me know if there's typos in thise thanks friensd

Chapter 3: give me back my heart

Notes:

EDIT: I FUCKED UP AND DIDN'T INCLUDE THE FIRST PART OF THE CHAPTER, AND ACCIDENTALLY MADE THE (SUPPOSED TO BE) FIRST PART OF NEXT CHAPTER THE LAST PART OF THIS CHAPTER SO UH. REREAD TO GET THE PART I ADDED IN

It hadn’t even been ten seconds since Bacchus killed the giants before Percy stormed up to the god, grabbed his wrist, and flipped him over his shoulder. Bacchus slammed into the ground, and before he could blink, Percy was on top of him, kneeling on his arms and holding him at sword point. “I don’t care who you fucking are,” he hissed, fist slamming into the stone next to the god’s head. Riptide’s blade rested above his collarbone, grazing his neck. “You don’t put me in a gods-damned arena to fight for your entertainment if you want to live to see another day.”

Bacchus glanced down at the sword apprehensively. His gaze returned to Percy’s face; his eyes were dark and angry, fearsome scowl twisting his features, his jaw tense.

Jason had never met Neptune, but in Percy’s anger, Jason could see what he thought the sea god might look like: all hard edges, cold and terrifying and unyielding, destructive anger simmering just under his skin.

“I think I will be able to remember that,” Bacchus decided. “No more arena matches for Peter.” His eyes fell to the sword again. “If I may have my throat back…?”

“Next time, I rip it out,” Percy warned. He rose and stepped back, capping his sword. “With my teeth.” A snarl gave them a decent view of Percy’s crazy sharp canines, and Jason gulped.

Bacchus couldn’t quite hide his violent shudder, his hand involuntarily gripping his throat. He didn’t move, eyes tracing Percy warily. “I believe we have come to an agreement.”

“Good.” Percy didn’t even look at Jason as he turned and walked away.

Jason waited for the Olympian to stand and dust himself off, giving off the pretense that he was completely unbothered, before he cleared his throat. “Bacchus—“ Bacchus gave him an unimpressed side-eye.

Jason wet his lips nervously and corrected himself with a shallow bow. “My Lord Bacchus, thank you for your help in defeating the giant twins. We—he may not—er, I certainly appreciated it.”

As he spoke, Jason stared at Percy’s back, the older demigod storming out of the arena and growling at any nymph that looked his way. Jason had forgotten honorifics and gotten a glare. How did Percy…just, how? Jason would’ve been a pile of ash a dozen times over by now.

Bacchus followed Jason’s gaze. “Ah.” He looked at Jason knowingly. “You’re looking at it all wrong, Jefferson.”

Jason jerked his attention away from the other demigod, embarrassed to be caught staring, and frowned. “Pardon?”

“The problem here is that you consider yourself Peter’s equal. That simply isn’t true.” Jason’s heart sank in his chest as the god continued. “He is stronger than you are. He is more useful, despite his…unfortunate temperament. He has completed far more important deeds. Perseus has earned Olympus’ gratitude, respect, tolerance, and, on occasions, even our fear.” Bacchus’ fingers played with the thin red-gold line Riptide had left behind on his skin. “You, Jefferson, have not.”

There was a lump in his throat. All of Jason’s fears—that he wasn’t good enough, that he couldn’t compare to his quest mates, that he wasn’t a good leader or fighter—all of them had been confirmed by a god. By an Olympian.

Bacchus had stood him up next to Percy for comparison, and Jason had fallen short.

Gods, it hurt. All Jason had ever done was try his best, for as long as he could remember, growing up in the Legion, and here was one of the deities he had honored daily, telling him that his best wasn’t good enough.

Percy’s was.

Was he even trying his best? Was Jason failing to compare against Percy’s uninterested, half-assed efforts? Everyone he’d ever asked about Percy fully believed he’s the most powerful demigod alive. Even the ones who’d only known him a few weeks, and had known Jason for years.

He blinked to clear tear-filled eyes, and cleared his throat. “Thank you, Lord Bacchus,” he rasped. “I should—I should be getting back to our ship.”

“It’s a hard lesson to learn, John,” Bacchus called after him, “but a necessary one.”

Jason walked away in silence. He just needed to prove himself. He could prove himself. He could.

---

Jason was brooding.

Everyone on the Argo II was, in some way. Hazel was crying in her room, curled up together with Frank as he just stared into nothingness. Hedge was beating up the new dummies he and Annabeth had picked up for the next training session. Leo had secured the statue, vanished into the engine room, and not come out. Nico had disappeared into a shadow and Jason hadn’t seen him since.

Piper poked her head in her door. “Hey,” she said softly, like he was a feral wolf pup who needed to be calmed down. “How are you holding up?”

Jason studied her as she made her way across the room and sat down gently next to him. There were still-wet tear tracks on her cheeks and her eyes were rubbed puffy and red. She’d bitten her nails down to nothing and picked at the skin on her cuticles, more than once making them bleed.

Her eyes were a deeper, more pronounced brown today. They changed shades of the color constantly, and as soon as Jason felt like he’d found the perfect description for them, they melted into another one entirely. Now, the only word that came to mind at the sight of them was mourning.

“You don’t have to do that,” he told her. “You don’t have to make sure we’re all okay when you clearly aren’t.” Because she had been. Jason knew Piper—she would work out her emotions afterward, on her own, but first she would go door to door to lend an ear to the others.

She offered him a weak, watery smile and shrugged. “No one else will. It’s better to get it all out now than let it fester.” She leaned over and rested her head on his shoulder. “What are you letting fester?”

Jason stayed silent. Piper would be disappointed if he sent her away without speaking at least a little. And she was right, it wasn’t healthy to keep everything bottled up. But he had to sort through his thoughts first.

What if it had been him? Here they were, mourning Percy and Annabeth—“They aren’t dead,” Nico insists, and Jason doesn’t have the heart to contradict him, but no one could survive that fall—as if the entire ship had fallen under a thick blanket of emotion. The ocean had been grey and angry since, like Poseidon was grieving with them. And so many others would mourn—Chiron, their friend Grover, everyone at Camp Half-Blood…

“Did Annabeth ever mention family?” Jason finally asked.

Piper dragged in a shaky breath. “Her dad. A step-mother, I think. They aren’t very close.”

“By the time we’re able to tell them…it’ll be weeks, Piper.” He exhaled sharply. “And Percy? He has a mom, doesn’t he?”

“Yeah. Clarisse mentioned her a few times. So did the Stolls, and Malcolm. Honestly, everyone seems to love her.” Jason was brought back to his first thought: what if it had been him? The entire Camp would mourn Percy and Annabeth like a lost limb. Annabeth’s family would probably mourn her, even if they were distant.

Jason had heard stories about Percy’s mom. Everyone got along with her. She was fiercely protective. It was easy to see where Percy got his bravery from, standing him next to her. She made great cookies. She could make Clarisse stop growling with a smile and a few words.

She would grieve more than anyone. More than Poseidon, more than the remaining questing demigods, more than the entire Camp full of demigods who looked up to Percy like he was a god. It was an ugly, disgusting jealousy. Because if it had been Jason?

He knew what would happen if he fell. His quest mates would grieve, but that was it. The Greeks may be sad for a while, but they were never very close. Jason was never really one of them. They would move on. The Romans wouldn’t mourn. As harsh as it sounded, it was true. They would honor that Jason had fallen in the line of duty, that he had died a soldier, had made his father proud, and they would replace him.

Jason Grace would not be mourned by a mother like Percy Jackson would. And Jason would never wish harm on Percy or his mother. He would never wish that Percy hadn’t had his mother. But Jason couldn’t help the envy that coiled in his gut whenever he remembered that Percy actually had a mother.

Jason’s mother had abandoned him. She had given him up. Lupa had brought him up as best she could, but he wasn’t a wolf pup. She had trained him and sent him on his way. And Camp Jupiter was no place for a child. Jason was grateful—the Legion had raised him, gave him a place to belong—but it had never been a family. It was an army, and Jason treated it as such, just like they treated him like a soldier instead of a child.

“How do we tell them that Percy and Annabeth aren’t coming home?” How did you do that to a person? Maybe Jason couldn’t understand because he’d never had what they had, but he couldn’t imagine walking up to someone and telling them that their child was dead.

Piper swallowed back a sob. “I don’t know,” she whispered hoarsely. “I don’t know.”

Jason wrapped his arms around her. He rubbed her back as she cried, and wished things were different. He wished Percy and Annabeth were here. He wished he had a mother. He wished he wouldn’t have to talk to Percy’s mother—not about this. Not about her son’s death.

Jason closed his eyes and wished.

---

The ocean was still grey.

It had been a week, and the sea had remained dull and angry and wild. Jason watched it, when he was on watch. It acted, he’d decided, as if it couldn’t decide whether it was sad and empty and mourning, or furious and vindictive and feral.

The winds changed at the drop of a dime. One moment, Jason would be struggling to stand up straight, would be leaning against the wind like it was a physical barrier holding him up, and the next he’d nearly fall over because it was gone.

The waves were rough and violent, sometimes, slamming the ship like it was the Argo II’s fault Percy wasn’t on board. Other times, the ocean was still as a mirror, and still that flat, empty gray, like Percy had taken the color with him when he fell. There were no more deep blues, or stunning aquas, or bright greens when the light hit just right. The ocean was paying tribute to its fallen prince.

Jason felt terrible. Percy had fallen into Tartarus. Nico had been insistent that he’d have felt it if they had died, but Nico had been drained by his time in the jar, and Tartarus was a long way down. Even so, Nico had left, with Reyna and Hedge, to deliver Annabeth’s retrieved statue to Camp. Maybe Nico had felt it, by now.

He had to assume Percy and Annabeth were dead, which made his feelings so much worse.

He tried to bury his jealousy, but Poseidon’s grief was obvious. The ocean reflected a father mourning his son, someone he had loved. Jason knew his father would not mourn his death. Jupiter likely wouldn’t even notice. It hurt, so much, to see that gods were capable of loving their children, of wishing them the best, and knowing that he hadn’t been good enough for his father to even notice.

It disgusted him, every time Jason felt that envy crawling up his spine. Percy was dead, and still Jason was jealous? He could not mourn his friend without wondering if Jason could call him a friend, with how he secretly felt. And if he could, how terrible a friend was he? Jason pried the envy warring with well-wishes in his heart, and shoved it down, as deep as he could.

It was not Percy’s fault that Poseidon favored him, and Jupiter didn’t care for Jason. It wasn’t. His hurt was misplaced.

If he was going to hurt about something, he should hurt about the fact that he’d never see Percy or Annabeth again. He should ache over the fact that there were no bodies to burn. He should anguish over the fact that the two greatest heroes of the age would die with no drachmas in their mouths, that even in death they would have to wait for Elysium.

Jason would mourn that. His problems could wait.

---

Percy carried Annabeth to the infirmary.

He looked like a sneeze in his general direction could knock him over, but he wouldn’t let anyone else touch her. Frank ran ahead to check their supplies and ready a cot, and Percy followed stoically, Annabeth sleeping—please dear gods just be sleeping—in his arms.

He stood silent sentry as Piper checked her over, grip tight on Riptide’s hilt until she was given the all-clear. “She’ll live. She’ll certainly be out for a while,” Piper said. “She’s probably malnourished, and dehydrated, and sleep deprived. Her ankle hasn’t quite healed right, it looks like, and her wounds aren’t infected, but they’ve scarred more than usual.”

“Keep a watch.” Percy’s voice was hoarse, and Jason hoped it was from disuse. He didn’t want to think about what in Tartarus could make Percy Jackson scream his throat raw. With that, he turned and marched away.

“Wh—what?” Hazel asked. She nudged Frank. “Go talk to him,” she ordered. “Percy would never leave Annabeth alone like this.” She took a seat at Annabeth’s bedside, dragging Piper down with her, and Frank hustled out the door after Percy. Jason followed, and he could hear Leo behind him.

They caught up with Percy on deck, staring out over the ocean. His eyes, normally bright green and full of mischief and life, were as grey and dull and dead as the ocean. “Percy?” Frank asked. “Hey, man, you don’t want to stick with Annabeth?”

Percy shook his head. “It’s better if I’m not there when she wakes up.”

“Are you kidding?” Leo asked. “She judo flipped you for leaving her when she got to New Rome. What do you think she’ll do if she wakes up and you’re not there? I want my ship to stay in one piece, man.”

“Annabeth will be fine.” Percy’s tone—hard, and cold, and demanding, one Jason had never heard from him before—left no room for argument. He inhaled deeply, watching a wave half-heartedly smack the side of the ship. “I need to fix this.”

Jason, Frank, and Leo didn’t have time to react before he launched himself over the guardrail. He must have dived, because his impact was near-silent. Leo glanced to Jason, then Frank, and quoted, “No splash, Captain.”

He and Frank headed belowdecks, likely to tell Hazel and Piper what Percy said. Jason stayed, staring at the sea. A good fifteen minutes later, the waves started to grow. One after the other, grey waves pounded the ship and the shore it was docked near. One after the other, until the grey faded to blue, the blue to green, the colors mixing as the sun hit the water in a beautiful picture.

Poseidon knew Percy was alive. He was rejoicing, and the ocean rejoiced with him.

Jason forced his conflict down, focused on his joy that Percy and Annabeth were back, and started to make his way to the infirmary.

Notes:

i wrote all of this in the last hour and a half i finally figured out how to make the ideas i had actual words! i hope you like it :)

Chapter 4: it all comes down to you

Notes:

remember when i said chapter 4 was the last one? yeah i lied that's gonna be chapter 5.

Jason dropped his weapon, heart pounding in his ears.

Percy frowned. “Go again.”

“Again?” Jason asked. Percy nodded. He hadn’t done this before. When he disarmed his opponent, he typically gave them advice and pointers on how to improve, then ended training. Then again, he didn’t usually disarm Jason in fifteen seconds, either. Jason gulped and picked his sword up. He adjusted his stance, fixed his grip, and narrowed his eyes. Percy had improved in Tartarus, but Jason had been improving, too. He could hold his own. He would.

He darted forward, slashing for the wrist of Percy’s sword hand. One hit could end the fight before it began. As fast as Jason had moved, so did Percy. He dodged into Jason’s elbow space and used his momentum to shove him forwards. Jason stumbled and whirled around, and barely had time to block Percy’s strike to his midsection.

It continued like that for another forty-five-ish seconds. Jason almost lost his arm, then his head, then a lung, then his intestines, until Percy finally caught his arm, almost broke his elbow, and ripped the blade from his hands. “You know your footwork, but you’re slow with it,” Percy said. “You stick too much to what you know has worked in the past. That makes it too easy to predict your moves. If you don’t try new things, you’ll never grow as a swordsman.” With that, he walked away.

Jason thought he had never been so close to dying during training. Percy, before, had been their best fighter, ready for anything and able to beat whatever came his way. Now, it was like Percy had to slow himself down to train them. Percy had fought Annabeth yesterday, and she hadn’t been anywhere close to winning. Today, Jason’s spar lasted a total of maybe three minutes.

He turned to find the others watching him. He is stronger than you are, Bacchus’ voice whispered in his ear. Jason gave a shaky grin. “Don’t know how I’m supposed to get better if training is that fast,” he quipped.

Annabeth was biting her lip. “Based on the data from before—well, there hasn’t been much improvement from then to now. I’ll go talk to him about taking it a bit easier.” She took off in the direction Percy had gone.

Piper started chatting with Hazel about the difference between Katoptris and a gladius, and Frank watched warily as Leo went back to swinging his flaming axe at a fire-proof dummy. Jason stood and watched his best friend.

It was true that they’d reached a plateau in training while Percy and Annabeth were gone. No matter how hard Jason tried, he wasn’t Percy. He couldn’t win every fight, couldn’t keep track of three different sparring couples at a time, couldn’t fight with every weapon on board the ship. Jason had been a poor replacement. He’d only used his sword, against Hazel’s spatha, and Frank’s longsword, and Leo’s flaming makhaira, and Piper’s dagger. He only won half the time, even when he’d been trying to show certain moves to his opponent. Jason did his best, but he didn’t provide as much of a challenge as Percy.

Bacchus had said, He is more useful…

Jason shook his head and steeled himself to the god’s words. He would prove himself. He would. He just couldn’t do that by trying to be Percy Jackson.

---

The goddess stared at Percy and Jason with glee, and Jason started to think that just maybe they had made a mistake. Perhaps, rather than sending the two with the most reason for competition, they should have focused on the two with the least? Maybe they should have just sent Piper out to charmspeak her into cooperating.

Nope. They had decided that Percy and Jason, a Greek and a Roman, sons of warring brothers, counterparts in their respective camps, would have the most tension, the most competitive spirit. And if they approached Nike together as friends, the goddess may calm down long enough to regain her mind.

All Jason had to do was not feel jealousy or resentment or anger or even mild dislike towards Percy Jackson, because Nike might be able to sense or manipulate that. “Any doubts?” Jason had asked as he and Percy trekked to the ruin the goddess had been spotted by.

“Well,” Percy replied, “I’ve always been more of an Adidas guy.” Jason snorted. “In all seriousness, though? No. Manipulating gods isn’t exactly as hard as you’d think.” Jason didn't think Percy could have said something less comforting if he tried.

Jason stared at the goddess in front of them, at the predatory gleam in her eyes, at the sharp edge to her smile, and hoped Percy knew what he was doing, because Jason sure didn’t. “Demigods,” Nike purred, gaze switching between the two of them. “You come before me with such warring, resentful air between you. Do you need help deciding on a victor?”

Percy offered her a tame smile. “Something like that.” He glanced over to Jason, then back to Nike. “Is there somewhere we can sit and talk?”

“Sit and talk?” Nike shook her head. “Oh, no, little sea prince. The best way to ease your tension, to determine a clear victor between you and your roman enemy is to battle it out.”

“Unfortunately, we don’t have that luxury,” Percy told her. “If you would allow me to explain—“

Nike sighed. Her disappointment seemed to permeate the air around them. “Very well. Tell me the reason behind your reluctance to crush those who oppose you.” She led the way deeper into the ruins, toward a brilliant golden throne. It sat smack dab in the center of the ancient amphitheater and practically glowed in the light of the sunset. Percy chatted with her as they walked, seemingly enjoying their conversation on how to brutally and violently slay one’s enemies.

Jason felt queasy. He was playing the role of the enemy right now.

“So tell me,” Nike demanded as she reclined herself across her throne, matching golden wings stretching to the sky, “how do a Greek and a Roman find their way to me without tearing at each other’s throats?”

“We would certainly love to,” Percy bluffed. Jason prayed to every god he could name that he was just bluffing. “But we can’t waste our time on each other when the world is about to end.” He eyed the ground at their feet disdainfully.

“Whyever not?” She asked. “Going out in a blaze of glory is all the rage these days.”

Percy smiled easily. “Ah, but then we both lose. Can there be a true winner if they both die at the end anyway? I want to lord it over Jason’s Legion when I slaughter him. He wants to brag to my army when he kills me. If there’s no one left behind to celebrate the victory, to mourn the loser, what’s the point?” Nike eyed Percy much closer, something akin to reluctant respect shining in her eyes.

“Besides,” Percy continued, “no matter how this goes, it will begin a war between Greece and Rome. Those two have been fighting for centuries. We need a victor, once and for all.”

Nike hummed and pursed her lips. “I suppose it would be nice to see the Romans fall…”

Jason furrowed his brows. “I’m sorry—my lady, aren’t you also feeling the split between your aspects?”

“Not quite, no. You see, Roman, your people never deigned to pay me much attention. They thought they could change my name and steal me from my origins, make me theirs, capture victory for Rome for eternity, but that is not the case. Jupiter was borne of Zeus, but Jupiter was given enough worship and praise to become his own being. Victoria was not.”

“So when Juno warned us that the rift between Greek and Roman couldn’t heal while Victory ‘runs rampant’ in Olympia—she meant that you clearly favor the Greeks.”

“Juno said that, did she?” Nike chuckled. “That is likely exactly what she meant. Unless they manage to get me out of the way, the Roman gods—younger and lesser, no matter how hard they may try to deny it—are not equal. They have less power, less influence—less of a chance at victory.” Jason bit his tongue to keep silent.

Something had lit up in Percy’s eye. “You can grant victory?”

“Easily, little prince. Should you and your rival wish to fight now, I could ensure his death.” Percy and Jason shared a look. Thankfully, he seemed as uncomfortable with that idea as Jason did.

“Can I propose something different?” Nike waved him onward. “Can you grant us—our alliance of Greeks and Romans—victory against Gaea, so that afterward, we can continue our war and finally be done with each other?”

Jason cleared his throat. “My lady, if you would give us a moment to confer?” Nike’s expression when she looked at him was much different from when she looked at Percy. Heavier, more displeased, like Jason was inferior.

“If you must.” Jason looped his hand around Percy’s forearm and pulled him back enough paces that he hoped Nike wouldn’t hear him harshly demand, “What are you doing?”

Percy gave him a look. “Isn’t that obvious? I’m lying out of my ass.”

In moments like these, Jason could feel the regret that he’d ever had the misfortune of dealing with Greeks settling in his gut like a boulder. “That isn’t going to go well,” Jason argued. “What if she decides to start a war between the Romans and Greeks afterward anyway?”

Percy snorted. “What, scared you’ll lose?” He shook his head. “Besides, if your army keeps up its siege of my home much longer, we’ll have war anyway. I’m not letting my people get hurt, or caught in another war they don’t want.” The way Percy put it, it sounded like he thought Camp would want a war with Rome. Jason hoped he was wrong. “Anyway, who gives a shit? She isn’t owed the truth because she’s a goddess. I’ll do whatever I need to to get her on our side in this fight.”

Percy started to walk away, but turned and clapped a hand on Jason’s shoulder. “Come back over once you’ve got your acting hat on. She’s interested already. This won’t be hard if you don’t fuck it up.”

Jason watched him go, back to the goddess, who regarded Percy with much more respect when he came back alone. Maybe he wouldn’t need his acting hat. Maybe Percy would get this done on his own, and Jason, once again, would be useless.

---

Jason opened his eyes to darkness. Before him was a never-ending void, inky black and threatening and alive. He sat up, hand falling to his pocket, but his coin wasn’t there. A quick glance around told him he wasn’t alone. Abyss to his back, he looked out into a large dark cave. Percy was standing between Jason and the opening, staring at a spot on the ground, tense and unblinking.

“Jason!” Leo’s voice called from behind him. Jason whirled around. As if they had been there the whole time, Camp Half-Blood’s familiar amphitheater seats rose from the cliff face. Piper and Annabeth sat in the first row, with Frank, Hazel, and Leo behind them. “Are you okay?” Had Nike uncovered Percy’s lie? Had she done something?

“I’m fine. You guys?” He received a chorus of ‘ok’s and ‘all good’s in reply, from all but one of his friends. Annabeth was deathly pale, her eyes widened, breath shaky as she watched Percy. Jason glanced back; he was in a similar state. There was a tense set to his shoulders, an angry look on his face. His hands were clenched around his pen. “You don’t think this is…”

“Tartarus.”

The voice came from the cave entrance. Jason wheeled around to face it. There stood a tall, imposing man with silvery white hair stuck in a bad case of bedhead. He wore dark, flowing robes, and in his hand was a small pouch.

Jason struggled to place him, until Percy slowly looked up and growled, “Morpheus.”

“We meet again, Perseus.”

“Pick the losing side again?” Percy bit. “I thought you’d have had enough of losing after the Second Titan War.” The god sneered.

“You were only just barely able to eke out victory against Kronos,” he spat back, “and Gaea has so much more power. Your gods were weakened by Typhon, and are now even more so, split as they are.” He glanced over to Jason, milky white eyes flicking to the seating behind him. “Makes one glad to have been disregarded by Rome.”

“We could disregard you, too, if that’s what you’re looking for,” Percy snapped. “It’s not all that hard.”

“You could try.” Morpheus bit back a smirk. “You may find it harder than usual, however. You’ll not wake until I allow it.”

Percy shrugged. “Then we won’t wake. Gaea will win. We’ll die, and so will every other demigod, legacy, and mortal on the planet. You’ll be obsolete. Who needs a god of dreams when there are no dreamers?” Morpheus stayed silent.

“Percy!” Jason hissed. “You can’t just talk to him like that! He’s a god!” Why was his first instinct, every time, to lie to gods, to insult them, to threaten them? How could they value him the way they did when he seemed to hate them? Why couldn’t Jason fight for people and a cause he believed in as well as Percy fought for people he couldn’t stand?

“Oh, please,” Percy scoffed. “That doesn’t mean he isn’t an idiot. That doesn’t mean he isn’t wrong. The only reason that matters right now is because he has the power to make our lives difficult if we oppose him.”

“So maybe stop opposing him!” Jason shot back. “Try a bit of respect!”

“Respect won from fear is respect undeserved,” Percy replied calmly. “He’ll get nothing from me.”

“Except contempt, hostility, and impertinence. That’s all any of them ever seem to get from you.” Jason thought back to how he spoke about their fathers, how he cursed at the sky and rolled his eyes when Jason mentioned the Olympians, how he’d flip off the sun or the sea or the air around him. “Don’t you ever wonder why none of them like you all that much?”

Jason ignored the lie in his own words. Percy’s father loved him, even despite his attitude. Bacchus respected him, even through his fear. Even Terminus seemed to like Percy. But he knew some of them did hate him. His rivalry with Ares was infamous at Camp, as was his disdain for Hera and his cool neutrality with Athena.

“Don’t you ever wonder why I don’t like them?” Percy glared at Jason, and Jason glared right back. “I didn’t just wake up one day and decide to hate the gods. I have my reasons.”

“And what are those? What, did you get tired of being acknowledged? Did you get mad that they didn’t forget about you?” Did you get upset when they declared you a hero, a savior, and offered you their most coveted gift?

“What is this? Do you want their attention? You think having daddy acknowledge you will make anything better? You think he’ll care? Let me tell you how that goes, Jason: if he ever does decide to acknowledge you, it’ll be because he wants something. He doesn’t care. You aren’t a person to him. At worst, you’re a mistake; at best, you’re a tool, a weapon.”

“Is that so bad?” Jason was almost pleading. He couldn’t believe it was as bad as Percy thought. He wouldn’t. “If there’s a price to pay for your father’s love and attention? Fighting for the gods means fighting for the greater good, and the fact that you can’t see that makes you a poor champion.”

“Is that what you want? You want to be their champion?” Percy bit. “You want to fight for them? Fine. You can start right now. I’ve been there already, and I’m done with it.” He reached into his pocket and pulled his pen out.

Jason reached into his own pocket; his coin brushed against his fingers. “Percy—“ But Percy wasn’t focusing on him.

Percy turned to Morpheus and flicked the cap off of Riptide. “Last time I was here, I almost killed a goddess. Maybe this time, I’ll have better luck.” Jason looked frantically back; the others looked like they were shouting, Annabeth standing and pounding on an invisible wall in front of her, but Percy and Jason couldn’t hear them.

He wouldn’t be getting any help from his friends.

“I can’t let you do that, Percy.” Jason was flipping his coin and catching his sword before he knew it. He steeled himself against the fear that wrapped around his heart. Percy was better than he was, and they both knew it, but Jason had been raised to serve the gods, and that was what he’d do. Even this one, who had them trapped—there had to be a way to negotiate their way out. Killing him wasn’t the right way.

But to get a chance to do that, Jason needed to stop Percy, first.

Notes:

it's 05;11 and i think i got all my notes and brackets out but words are all blurry and i'm nots ure so lemme know if i missed something ty fam <3

Chapter 5: think of all the horrors

“You can’t let me,” Percy repeated. He was silent for a moment. The cave seemed to breathe with him, shadows dancing around the lines of his face. Jason couldn’t describe it as anything other than menacing.

“So let me get this straight, Jason,” Percy continued. “He’s one of Gaea’s insignificant henchmen,” Percy hissed toward the god at the mouth of the cave, “and you’re defending him?” Morpheus scowled at Percy, who sneered back.

“I’m not—I’m not defending him,” Jason protested. “But I don’t think you’ve thought this through.” Percy turned away from his glaring contest with Morpheus to raise a judgmental eyebrow at Jason. “What if killing him doesn’t wake us up? What if we die when he does? I mean, we’re in his domain. What if you can’t manage—“

Percy interrupted with a loud, cutting laugh. “You think I couldn’t?” He shook his head. “Damn, Jason, I had no idea you thought so little of me.” Percy shrugged. “There’s no danger of that.”

Confused, Jason blinked. This god had them all trapped. This god could probably manipulate the world around them like it was nothing, and Percy thought he had the upper hand?

Jason had to talk him down. He had to. “There is danger, though. You can’t deny that.”

Percy shrugged again. “When isn’t there danger? If I had to guess, we should be fine.”

Jason scoffed. “Oh, you guess? Well great, go ahead. Kill all of them, why don’t you?”

“I’ll get right on that. Step aside.”

Jason took a deep breath and stood his ground. “I can’t do that, Percy.”

Percy rolled his eyes. He paced around, and Jason stepped backward to keep the distance. Percy swiped his sword around, probably trying and certainly succeeding at intimidating Jason more. “Back off, Jason, or I’ll make you.”

Oh, gods. Jason steeled himself. This wasn’t how he had hoped this would go. They both knew Jason couldn’t beat Percy. They both knew it. Jason thought back to his last duel with Percy during training; Percy hadn’t broken a sweat. He’d looked bored. Jason had tried his hardest, fought his best, and Percy didn’t even consider him a minor threat.

But he couldn’t just let him do this.

“Then I guess you’ll have to make me.”

Clang! Jason barely had time to move. The last word hadn’t left his mouth before he had to parry Riptide’s blade. One second slower, and he’d have lost his head.

Percy wasn’t trying to kill him, right? Maybe he was. Maybe he’d decided that this was a dream, so Jason might be fine if he did kill him. That’s how dreams worked, right? You wake up when you die?

Jason kept dodging, kept blocking, kept stumbling away from Percy and his sword. That wasn’t a question he wanted to learn the answer to.

Percy had every advantage. He was stronger, faster, more powerful. He’d been here before, in Tartarus, in this cave, so he knew the terrain while Jason was left tripping over steps and stumbling in spongy patches. Percy was more stubborn, more skillful with a sword. He was a better strategist. He was everything Jason wished he could be.

And he was winning. Percy kicked the ground where Jason was standing, and it bounced beneath him. He was standing in one of the spongy areas. While Jason flailed around for balance, Percy shoved him.

Jason fell. He dropped his sword. Percy—

Percy didn’t go in for the kill. He backed up. His eyes flitted to the stands their friends stood in. “Stay down, Jason,” he said. “I’m going to do the same thing to him that I did to Nyx.”

Jason looked to the others, too. Piper and Leo looked distraught, like Jason was already dead, like they were mourning him. Hazel looked conflicted, and Frank had his eyes squeezed shut—was he trying to shift, or could he just not watch? Annabeth was stood stock still, staring at Percy. Her face was carefully blank, but as Jason watched, she took a deep breath, nodded, and sat down.

Percy smirked. Jason’s heart pounded in his chest and he raced to pick his sword up and get back on his feet. Any chance of Percy going easy on him vanished the second Annabeth accepted that she couldn’t stop him.

“I can’t.” Jason was on his feet for barely a heartbeat before Percy attacked again. It couldn’t even be called a fight, really. It was all Jason could do just to block hit after hit, until eventually his foot hit a dip in the ground and he fell again.

And again, Percy backed off. Was…was Percy playing with him? Bacchus’ voice whispered in his ear. The problem here is that you consider yourself Peter’s equal.

Jason might not be Percy’s equal. He might not be as good. But if Percy was in this fight just because Jason was an obstacle, if Jason was more determined than he was, if he was angrier—surely, that would count for something.

He’d never been fighting in anger against Percy, before. Why not try now?

There was a noticeable difference. Jason leapt to his feet again and lunged at Percy. His anger at being toyed with burned in his veins. He was blocking more easily, moved faster, even managed an offensive move or two. They never landed. Percy blocked with ease and retaliated instantly, but Jason was holding his own.

There was a noticeable difference.

At first.

Percy had to have been toying with Jason, before. There was no other way the fight could have lasted this long. Jason was fighting like his life depended on it, because honestly, he wasn’t sure it didn’t. He couldn’t remember a duel with Percy ever lasting this long.

He was keeping up.

And then Percy dodged one of Jason’s jabs, ducked under his sword and whirled around behind him in one fluid move, and before Jason knew it, he’d been disarmed. His sword fell to the ground, Percy wrapped a constricting arm around him, and Riptide rested at his throat.

“Last chance, Jason. Yield.” Percy was barely audible over Jason’s heart pounding in his ears and his harsh pants. He didn’t seem to be breathing hard at all.

“No.”

Percy groaned in annoyance. “No, I figured. I guess…this is just a dream,” he mused. “Maybe the best way to keep you down is to make sure you can’t get back up.”

Later, Jason would swear his heart stopped for a moment. When was the last time he’d been this afraid? He opened his mouth to snap something. To plead for mercy, or lash out, or ask why Percy was playing with him, he wasn’t sure. Before he managed to get a sound out, Riptide vanished.

Percy cursed under his breath and let Jason go. The two of them turned to the mouth of the cave, where Morpheus still stood. “While it is true that I intended to leave you defenseless, to have minions take you from your ship and deliver you to the Earth Mother, now…” He shot an appraising look to Jason and Percy. “Now, I am far more curious to see how this plays out. Wake now, demigods. I will interfere no longer.”

Percy smirked. “Gotcha,” he hissed under his breath. He vanished. Jason looked to the others, at the shocked and scared expressions on their faces, and one by one, all of them vanished.

“Beware, Jason Grace,” Morpheus said. “You have just made a powerful enemy, and gained a powerful ally.”

With a sinking feeling in his gut, Jason couldn’t help but agree. “Which one are you?” He asked.

Morpheus grinned. “That’s a wonderful question.”

Jason woke up.

---

Percy looked scarier.

Maybe that was just Jason. Maybe it was leftover fear from their duel. Or maybe Jason was realizing that Percy wasn’t exactly his friend. Would a friend threaten Jason like Percy had?

His neural expression had always look bored to Jason. Bored, like he was hoping a fight would break out any minute, and slightly judgmental. Resting Bitch Face, Percy had called it. Looking more closely, Jason had to correct himself. Percy didn’t look bored. He looked cold and calculating. He looked like he was analyzing everything, everyone his gaze fell on. Instead of hoping for a fight, he looked like he was planning to start one, and he already knew he’d win.

If Jason didn’t know Percy, he’d call it blind arrogance. His resting expression was cool confidence.

“Explain,” Piper demanded, and Jason almost spilled every thought he’d ever had right then and there. But Piper wasn’t talking to Jason. She wasn’t even talking to Percy. Piper stared at Annabeth with such a fierce, intense expression it wouldn’t look out of place in a fight. “Why were you just okay watching that? Why did you nod? You could have stopped Percy!”

Annabeth replied, “Do you remember what Percy said when he looked at us?”

Piper shrugged. “Something about doing to Morpheus what he did to Nyx. We know he almost killed her. He admitted to it! How could you be okay with that?”

Shaking her head, Annabeth argued, “He didn’t. Percy almost killed Akhlys, not Nyx.” Realization dawned in the demigods’ eyes. How did Nyx tie in, if Percy didn’t attack her? “When we met Nyx, we tricked her.”

“He was telling you he was going to trick Morpheus,” Hazel breathed. A smile grew on her face and she sent Percy a look that clearly said she thought he was a genius.

Annabeth nodded. Percy watched her for a moment before turning to Piper. “Do you know why Morpheus sided with the Titans?” He asked. Slowly, methodically, almost rhythmically, he spun Riptide between his fingers.

Piper shook her head.

“He was bored,” Percy said. “Simple as that. He’d never cared for the Olympians in the first place, and when a more exciting option came along, he jumped ship.” Percy glanced over to Jason, now. “I just made us interesting. What do you think he’d prefer to watch? The end of the world, where his domain will all but fade, or a rivalry between two prophesied demigods? Two kids of the Big Three, fighting just like their fathers.”

“And to make it better, throw in Percy Jackson’s fall from grace,” Annabeth added. “The Savior of Olympus declaring that the gods can die for all he cares…It was reckless, but it was a good plan.”

Percy grinned at her. “‘Course it was,” he boasted. “I learned strategy from the best.”

Jason shook his head as Percy and Annabeth fell into easy banter. Hazel piped too, and eventually even Frank, Leo, and Piper were complimenting Percy on his quick thinking.

Jason just watched the boy across the table from him.

Maybe he never would measure up to Percy Jackson. Maybe he’d never be as powerful, or as skilled, or as strong. Maybe he’d never be as good. But if his power, if his strength and his skill led to his attitude? His disrespect, his anger? Maybe that was a good thing.

Jason would never want to make a friend think he would hurt them, kill them, to trick his way into victory. He’d seen the look in Annabeth’s eyes. She’d been scared. She’d either thought that Percy would kill Jason, or that Percy would kill Morpheus, or both. Jason would never want Piper—would never want anyone—to think he was capable of that.

It’s a hard lesson to learn, Bacchus had told him, but a necessary one. Back then, with an Olympian standing in front of him and telling him he fell short, Jason had been more determined than ever to become just like Percy Jackson.

Now? Now, Jason understood.

Notes:

THAT'S IT!! WE'RE DONE!! our boys have learned some lessons! there's a small, angsty yet necessary and truthful resolution! i rewrote this last chapter five times in the last month! merry christmas happy holidays i hope you like it it's 6:15 am and i need to wake up in 4 hours!! :D

 

[bonus thought about nike finding out she's been bamboozled: "oh, i was lying to your face," percy said. "i have no desire to eviscerate the romans. i just needed you on board with the quest to save the world." nike was speechless. she blinked, once, twice, three times. percy patted her on the back, careful to avoid her gold wings. "it's okay, though. now that the world won't end, you can keep victory away from rome if you want."]

Notes:

a rivalry between these two could have been so realistic and well-written but rick decided no "percy and jason both want the seat at the head of the table" and never elaborated

note: this is not character bashing we love both these boys but facts is facts and percy is the stronger of the two and i wrote the fic with that in mind

alsp its 6am i'll touch up tags and chapter titles and stuff later gnight:)