helllooooo everyone and welcome to "Jason's bday fic slices" some of them are super short and some are slightly longer? I dont know i just wrote and it just let me
okay have valgrace as your first one; this is technically part of the Kingdom Collisions AU but you can read it as is and pretend it’s a prince/captain of the guard au. i don’t know bro it’s like three hundred words, take it and love me *kisses*
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Leo Valdez stares at the leathers hanging over his cupboard door and lets out a sigh so dramatic it wakes the person in his bed up.
“What's wrong, my Ardor?” That voice is made of rolling hills and cracking lightning and all the most comforting moments in a life.
“I am uninterested in getting dressed for duty today.” He looks to the crumpled white sheets, and the moving shape that twists around, getting caught in the material.
“I know a guy that can excuse you.” Prince Jason Grace smirks, and Leo swears his skin turns to fire.
He laughs, and launches himself at the bed, where strong arms catch him without hesitation. “That would make me a very bad captain.”
“But a wonderful boyfriend.” Is the charming reply.
“You are such trouble Prince.” He teases, brushing warm fingers across golden cheeks.
“I’m your trouble.”
“And you’re going to make me late.”
“Stay,” His prince breathes into his neck, hands still wrapped around him as if the world could explode and they would never move.
He feels their heartbeats, slow and steady, lazy with their love for each other. Winding rivers, unhurried winds, wild wild wild with love. He doesn’t say anything, as he stares at Jason, unable even now all these months later, to believe that this is his life. That he has the privilege and the pleasure to see the sky each morning and feel the wind against his lips each second they can get. He feels almost as if he is living a rather vivid, far too perfected dream.
The universe is but an artfully constructed web and he doesn’t yet know if he’s a spider or a fly. Just then Jason smiles, wide and unrestrained and it takes him several seconds to control his breathing. He is blinded by happiness. He decides he can wait a little longer to find out if he’s the predator or the prey. For now he is safe.
“You’re five minutes late, Captain.” Prince Jason teases.
Leo flicks his nose, kisses his lips. “I set the clock back. I have an hour.”
The laughter he is met with engulfs him whole. He is the prey, being devoured by this warmth.
Phew, when i first started this fic (way back when in august last year, i think) i didn’t expect it to become a multi-chapter nor did i expect it to go in literally any of the directions it went in. with each new chapter the boys cooked up something different and apparently more and more dark. nonetheless this has been one of the most absolute fun, exciting, and rewarding fics i’ve ever put out there because 1. i just kind of did whatever i liked with it (plot holes be damned) and 2. because the interaction i got from this fic was mind-boggling. Every plot twist brought a gasp, an angst gremlin, and a sweet supporter to my doorstep (i cant name anyone because you all swopped roles continuously).
when i started writing this chapter tbh i was dreading it because how on earth do i get myself out of the sheer monstrosity that i dug myself into in the last one? but i wrote some words and even though they were all wrong and it was only seven hundred of them at least i had written something you know? but then i was at the beach and the ocean water was shoving itself into my lungs and the salt was stinging my eyes and i literally couldn’t have been happier if i tried and suddenly i just kind of knew what i wanted to write... or rather i knew i wanted to write and these troublesome princes knew how they wanted their story to close. yes, indeed, close. somehow, without me realising it, we kind of got to the last chapter. i truly didn’t think this would be it but with each word i put down it just kept drawing closer and closer to a close. and i can’t force this fic to be anything but what it is. So, my dear ones, this is the last chapter of Kingdom Collisions. thank you for coming along, i hope with all my heart you enjoyed it even a fraction as much as i did. I love these Princes so hard and Nish, Gretch, and A can tell you how sad i was to see them end. Nonetheless, please enjoy!
Since it’s been a hot minute since the previous chapter, here’s a recap:
Prince Jason Grace stumbles from the mouth of the arena and falls to his knees in front of the platform.
“Kill him Perseus.” A voice glimmers around him, leaking in through the ringing in his ears.
“Come home Prince,” That voice lilts, “Do not die so far from the sea.”
Jason looks up at him, blue eyes hazy, a dagger loose in his clasp. “Hello Prince.”
Percy steps down from the platform, and takes the dagger from his husband’s hands. It is almost sickening how easily he gives it over.
The crowd stomps its feet: they are ready for blood; they are ready for slaughter.
He holds the dagger up, making sure it glints in the sun. And then he draws his husband close until there is nothing between their bodies, not space, not even air.
“Let’s go home my love.” He whispers. “We will not die so far from the sea.”
Prince Perseus Jackson brings the blade down.
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We’ll never get free// lamb to the slaughter// what you gon’ do when there’s blood in the water
Prince Perseus Jackson knows he’s going to die today. It is not a feeling, or a morbid premonition. It is the cold, hard truth. If he does not the world will continue to suffer for it. And what kind of prince would he be if he allowed his people to suffer? His father would say he’d be a coward. His father did not know the meaning of the word until he screamed as a blade sunk into his chest. Percy wonders how a man made from the Rivers themselves, can die by knife. He supposes when you spend long enough pretending to be human, you die like one too.
All the same Percy must take his last breath today, before the setting sun has managed to hide for the night. Before the darkness can wrap around his bones like cigarette smoke, and keep him trapped once more.
But first, Percy must kill his husband.
The crowd is violent; their need for bloodshed a hyena’s cackle in his head. He cannot keep them out. He cannot keep them at bay. It drives into his blood, makes every dangerous drop slosh through him, as wild as the rivers of his father. As wild as the blue eyes staring him down.
Perseus Jackson looks at his husband, barely an inch apart, so close it seems no room is left for air. He can’t breathe, so it must have been pushed away, pushed out. Those blue eyes, as striking as the brilliant sky above them, are looking at him with so much… sorrow, love, joy, rage? He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know and it terrifies him. He knows and that scares him more. Prince Jason Grace is looking at him with delight and it makes him want to sin.
“I will find you again, my love.” His lips brush the sensitive skin of his ear. He feels that beautiful body shudder underneath him.
The musician’s box echoes with the notes of the wind, a melody that rackets around in his head, bouncing off the walls of his memories. He has died to this tune many times. Died as a king, and a peasant, and a squallor, and a whore, and every form of human scum and royalty alike. They all bleed the same in the end. All die with regrets on their tongue, and the unconquering falsehood of love in their hearts, as if that alone is enough to save them. He has never been safe from death. But love saves him all the same. He wonders if he will die again.
“I will not be lost.” Jason whispers back, so quiet, so full of sweet darkness.
Percy slams the blade into his Jason’s heart and watches as the light from beckoning eyes morphs into a smile that surrenders the world. He doesn’t acknowledge the warmth at his side. There is only his Prince, his husband, his other half, his, his, his.
“I will be waiting.” Jason Grace grins. Jason Grace dies.
Already he can feel the absence of his other. It is not a dull ache, nor a sharp one. It is not really an ache at all. Rather as if a veil has been placed over him, leeching the world of colour and light. Leeching him of any goodness. What is a destroyer, without his healer?
The Prince of Mare pulls the knife out of his husband’s chest and holds it up to the crowd. His smile dances, violence coating the angles of his face like a liquid mask. The colosseum responds in vigour, chanting his name, chanting the name of Princess Piper Mclean, chanting victory as if they’ve won. Dust begins to settle at his feet, settle then jump as they jump, then settle once more. And endless dance. He knows the score by heart.
“What you have witnessed today my good people,” The woman in power stands in her box, surveying the scene before her with triumph in her brown, glinting eyes. “Is the beginning of forever, again.”
The people cheer, clap, stomp their feet, make the stone underneath them quiver.
A drop of blood falls to the floor.
“We have completed what our ancestors could not. We have made sure that the threat— ” She sneers at them; at him in his bloodied rags, and the husband still in his arms, limp and fast growing cold. “The threat of Our Downfall may never rise from the ashes.”
The deafening sound of celebration is a vice around his throat. He wants to rip the air from their lungs, make their joy a noose around their necks. They celebrate the loss of a life as if it were the birth of a thousand more; they celebrate the death of his husband as if they had won the war. But they have never seen war. And his past selves, rushing up to him in these moments, like reeling pictures, smile at the prospect. They seem to gather in his mind, grinning with endless terror and say, so very softly, “You think this is war? We’ve only just begun.”
We’ll never get free// lamb to the slaughter// what you gon’ do when there’s blood in the water
“My people,” Piper’s voice is a lull in the tides, a blind comfort to distract from the storm ahead. “We have severed the wings of a phoenix so it may never rise again.”
The crowd stomps, he stomps with them. A fissure runs under his feet, small, unnoticeable. Blood drips down, down, down, into the cracks. There is nothing left for him here. He smiles, soft and small. It is a smile only he knows exists.
With a gentleness he does not possess for anyone else but the man before him he lays his husband down, wincing as the dusty platform touches that beautiful golden skin. But he does not have time to make it clean. To give him a worthy place to rest. He only has right now. Eternity is a second in itself.
And when Prince Perseus stands, straight and unburdened. He reveals the last piece in a twisted puzzle. For sticking out of his own side— the side his prince was pressed against— is a dagger of his own. One that is killing him slowly.
The people are still cheering, Princess Piper is still revelling in her glory. She looks ethereal up on her dais, every bit the goddess she craves to be. Her brown skin shines in the brightening sun, her black hair flowing down, down, down past her hips, swishing at her thighs. And the crown that sits on her head, perched there as if it was too scared to be trapped to such power, glints almost menacingly, jewels reflecting onto the people closest to her. To the woman at her side. Annabeth, sister to Jason, lover to Piper, and honorary daughter of Hekima, sees him. Sees all of him and goes as pale as the moon. She grabs her lover’s arm, points a shaky finger in their direction, at the blade in his side.
The look of horror on their faces is almost enough to make him laugh; it’s certainly enough to make him smile. He watches on as their plans unravel, remembering the deadly words Piper had said to him all those days ago. “Instead we will kill one of you and keep the other continually alive.” But what good would that do, if he had killed them both, if he made sure his blood was smeared across his husband’s wound; if he made sure his husband’s blood could not be used to heal them. He has become the destroyer they so badly wanted.
Prince Perseus Jackson falls to his knees, at the symphony of a princess’s screech. And as he looks to his side, his fingers find the cool hand of Jason Grace. The sky is a lover’s blue. He closes his eyes. He finds his husband amongst the dead. And ever so slowly, the colosseum starts to crumble. For the blood from his wound seeps into the cracks running rivers of their own, and eats at the stone that holds the people, the power, the world. He has become his father. His mind is fill of his own stories, just like his mother. He feels the cold band on his husband’s finger. He becomes life.
We’ll never get free// lamb to the slaughter// what you gon’ do when there’s blood in the water
The walls behind her turn to dust in slow motion. She sees particles fall, land at her feet in never-ending waterfalls. Her gaze tilts to the sky where she half expects to find it raining blue, as if the whole world would collapse on top of them. She can hear the screaming, she doesn’t known if it’s joy or fear. Sh doesn’t know if anyone has realised what’s just happened, if they know the true extent of her failure.
“PIPER!” That voice is so far away, but it is one she recognizes. One she has loved since she was left on a lover’s bench ten years prior. “We have to go, we have to stop it from reaching the water.”
A pale hand gestures in front of her, to the crimson rivers speeding across the ground. They are the prettiest canals she’s ever seen. She wants to—
“PIPER,” The time for shock has gone, and in it’s place is a violent need to save herself, to be saved. “We have to get out of here, this whole place is going to come down.”
When she looks to Annabeth, grey eyes bright with fear, she is struck with feeling so deep she fears she may drown. It wouldn't’ matter; she’ll be dead before she gets to submerge.
“My people,” Her voice is loud, blessedly steady, as she surveys the uneasy crowd who are only now noticing the red brooks bubbling up to meet them. “We must leave here at once. The colosseum is no longer safe. I urge you to go home to your famililes, to pack important things and make your way as far from the oceans and rivers as possible. Danger is here, and it is not a force we can fight.”
A thousand eyes look at her, emotions blatant on their faces ranging from denial, to anger, to fear, to the worst of them all, resignation. Those are the ones, she knows, who have lived through this before, in some way or the other. Whether in a past life, or the echo of their current one through stories carried down.
The ground underneath them shakes, making their feet stumble, their legs quiver. It is laughing at them, at the idea that they can escape this destruction. It has done this a thousand times before, it will do it a thousand more. The end has never been about them. They cannot escape it, no matter where they run, how hard they pray. And people are. Praying. They don’t know it is their gods who order this. Their gods who have no care for the lives of them when they can create a million more. In the end they are pawns to an endless game of chess. The first to be discarded, despite how hard they fight to prove useful. And Jason, her lover’s brother, and Perseus, her own ex lover, are soldiers sent to do their duty. Pawns themselves, maybe knights. But gods they have never been, and gods they will never become.
Annabeth’s hand is warm in hers as they race to their death. Her blonde curls fly behind her and Piper thinks it’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen. And then the princess looks to her and she changes her mind. With each glance, each step, each squeeze of their skin, she changes and changes and changes. Until the beauty cannot be pinned to a single thing, until it is a tapestry continuously incomplete, of all the features that make up her love. If she— when, when she dies she will do it with this image in her mind.
And then they’re at the river, the one that feeds her kingdom, the one that runs into to the forest and branches to the five other kingdoms, before feeding into Perseus’s own and out to the ocean. There is no red tainting it’s glistening blue. They have time, maybe, just maybe they have time to save the only home they have ever known, the only one they ever will.
We’ll never get free// lamb to the slaughter// what you gon’ do when there’s blood in the water
Quickly, with a haste she has never seen, Annabeth pulls a single match from her pocket.
“Will you grant me permission, my love?” Her princess nods to the little stick.
There is only one way to stop a stream from turning towards a river. She nods. “For the kingdoms.”
“For the kingdoms.” The blonde echoes. She strikes the match.
Sunshine yellow flame bursts from the small head, and as it settles it turns orange, blue, goes back to yellow. Annabeth lets it fall to the floor.
And they both watch, flames dancing in their eyes, as the little match catches a dry leaf, which catches dry wood, which catches, and catches, and catches.
They clasp hands, look at each other. Piper runs a finger down a freckled cheek, skin already so warm from the blaze before them.
“Let us live.” Her princess whispers.
They jump into the river. The forest burns to an inferno behind them.
But there, trickling slowly, as if it has all the time in the world, is a single stream of blood. It creeps through the forest, turning already charring soil to nothing. The fire jumps over it, around it, beyond it. The fire does not stop it.
A single drop of blood catches on a shard of blackened stick, once a match, and as the wind blows it carries the wood over over over. It lands in the river. The stick floats away. The blood spreads wide.
And two princesses, still hand in hand, frantically swimming for their life, start to crumble to ash, like the forest they had left to burn.
We’ll never get free// lamb to the slaughter// what you gon’ do when there’s blood in the water
Perseus Jackson opens his eyes to sky blue, ice blue, saviour blue. And he cannot help but smile.
“Where have you been, my love?”
“Just had to take care of some things before i could join you.” He reaches up a hand to caress a golden cheek, warm and reddening under his touch.
“Are we finally free?” That voice is so soft, full of angled hope.
“Till the next time.” He sees that hope startle and shape before him, as if it can bend to fit around steeled will.
“What shall we do while we wait?”
“As long as we are together,” He brushes back a lock of gold. “It does not matter to me.”
“Might i suggest, staying here for the next decade at the very least?” A laughing reply, one that heats him to his bones.
“Your wish,” His green eyes sparkle dangerously, deliciously, “Is my salvation.”
“Wicked, wicked being.” Lips find his, press to him. It is so familiar, and somehow new all at once. As if the shadows they are made from need to get used to the light within them once more. As if they have not done this for a millennia, longer.
“I cannot help it when i’m with you.”
“And you are always with me,” Those blue eyes set him on fire.
“Yes,” He says simply. He touches the golden chest, the heart within. His heart.
“What shall we be in the next life?” The question is soft against his skin, raising bumps across his arms.
“I think i shall be a painter,” He muses, lips falling to a shoulder. They trace their way up, catching on collarbones and the crook of a neck, and the dimple behind an ear. “And you, my sweet? How do you intend for us to meet?”
“I think i shall like to be your nude model.” That grin is enough to cause a flush through his form.
“And who will be our heroes?”
“The queen of course.” The blonde’s voice gets conspiratorially low, “I’m her favourite servant you see, and she cannot bear the idea of anyone else seeing me naked.”
He cannot hold in his laughter, the mind of his other half an endless stream of amusement. “And how do we intend to end it this time?”
“That’s up to you dear one.” The being curled into him smiles, “I can only heal, and you know i will only heal you.”
“You make me such a villian.” His expression is violent, and beautiful, so so beautiful.
“We have never been anything else.”
He stares into the face of eternal love and is struck by the thought that it is all for him, that it has only ever been for him. He cradles a golden face in his hand, and with a deep unhurried breath, kisses Jason.
For the infinite time in his endless life, Perseus tastes fire.
Tags (if you want to be added to/ taken off the tag list just let me know, all my channels of communication are open):
@nishlicious-01 : to Nish for loving this fic harder than anyone, and for loving me harder still.
@queen-of-demons-and-hell : to Gretch for always being there even though were many countries, and many timezones apart
@leyontheway : to Ley for the endless and unwavering support and for making me smile no matter what
@sparkythunderstorm : to Lily for the continuous love and the wonderful comments
@comradefurudate : to avatar for the hilarious interactions and for loving this the way you did. Your comments made my day.
@aalikun : to ali for the theories and the comments that made me smile so hard my cheeks hurt
to A : you don’t have a tumblr account but you asked if you could read one of my fanfics and i sent you this one and you sent me back a 3 minute long voice note telling me every reason you loved it and i cannot begin to explain to you how much it means to me. i listen to the vn all the time. i love you.
and to every single one of you who liked, and/or commented on this fic: you are special to me in every way that matters and i think about you all the time.
please explain to me how i started this fic after EotH and we’re now ahead of that fic?? Also don’t kill me? Okay i love you guys enjooyyyy
masterlist; my links
I know it’s been over a month so here’s a previously on:
Prince Jason Grace sets him down by the fire. “Don’t move, I’ll come back for you.”
And then he is gone, and Prince Perseus Jackson smiles. Because that was the voice of the man he fell in love with. And those hands which had brushed against his waist as he let go were as warm and alive as electric currents.
So the destroyer sits by the fire, and waits for his healer to rescue him.
Come home, don’t die so far from the sea
Percy Jackson can feel the hard press of the wooden floor against his back and he welcomes the pain like an old friend. The darkness of the room feels endless in the cold black of the early morning hours. The fire has long since died, no kindling or wood to keep it alight for however long he stays here. If he didn’t know they planned to kill him at dawn of the coming day he would think they were trying to freeze him to death. It was almost strange how cold he was considering Hanaan was supposed to be in spring, heading towards the warmer months at a rapid pace. He wouldn’t be surprised if he wasn’t in Piper’s kingdom any longer. Maybe he had been transported to a kingdom of eternal winter.
He remembers a story like it, one his mom had told to the group that met at the children’s library every month. He remembers all the stories his mother had told him, fitting into each other like a tapestry. Just then an icy wind drifts in from under the door making him shiver in the thin cotton clothes. He curls into a ball-any attempt to save his body heat- and closes his eyes to a warmer darkness. His mother’s voice echoes inside him.
“When the world was first created there was only the earth and the sea and the sky and the beings that made these elements up.”
Queen Sally smiled down at the children surrounding her, looking up with sparkling eyes, hanging onto her every word.
There was the Lady of the Ocean, and the Being of the Rivers, and the Wisps of the Sky and the Dancers of the Earth. They lived together in harmony, for they never knew of each others’ existences. But one day the Being of the Rivers met the Lady of the Ocean and they learnt together what love was, and then loved each other. They refused to be apart, they couldn’t bare it; the oceans would thrash in agony, hurting the earth; the rivers would dry up, or form canyons in the ground in rage. It was destructive to keep them apart, for they loved so hard and so fiercely that it became a weakness to the world to separate them. So the beings stayed together, for eons, seasons, lifetimes passing without disruption. And in their time the earth changed and the sky grew rainbows and new elements came into being, things that molded and shaped as they had. Things that would not become clear until there was tangible things to hold them, make them. The day came, uncountable eras into their existence. A Dancer of the Earth had fallen in love with a Wisp of the Sky and together they created one that walks.
“Like us Your Majesty?” A little girl burning with curiosity, curly pigtails swinging slightly in the Mare breeze.
“Just like us Bianca.” His mother had smiled, “With two legs and a wide smile and so much love in their hearts.”
Bianca sighed contentedly as if she had known that first being all her life and looked up to them.
“And with that one being came more and more. As they settled down the need for structure became apparent. Not to control these new beings, but to make sure they had a place to talk about their struggles and to connect them with those who could help. And who better-
His mother had smiled, one of her secret smiles, that meant she knew something she’d beg them to tell her. Half the children around her fell for the bait.
“Whom, your majesty?” A child he had never seen before squeaked, rocking on their heels, knees pulled up to their chest.
“Well the very beings that brought them there.” She giggled, watching as some of their faces scrunched in confusion while others slowly came to the realisation.
The beings of the earth and the rivers and the sky took on a form, as close to the new beings as possible and came to them to offer help, and solace. And that is how the Kingdoms were formed. Mare for water, and Caelum for sky, and Canbaha for earth.
The questions came all at once.
“So the first Kings and Queens were the beings of the world?’
“What happened to the Ocean Lady and the River?”
“Are you a-”
“Alright alright,” The Queen laughed, “One at a time, let’s go around the room shall we?”
The children raised their hands, impatience shaking their little bodies. His mother pointed at Bianca who was right under her gaze.
“What happened to the Lady of the Ocean and the Being of Rivers?”
“Remember how i told you they couldn't ever be separated?”
The gaggle before her nodded enthusiastically eager to show they were listening.
“Well they were the only beings to rule one kingdom together. They decided if they fed one another there was no need to keep themselves apart. Instead of becoming a kingdom of Oceans and kingdom of Rivers they become the Kingdom of Mare.”
“What about all the other kingdoms?” A small voice piped up, drifting in the sea of mutters.
“Those kingdoms came to be as beings changed and evolved and became something different, something more. The Kingdom of Hanaan appeared first, created by a beautiful person who could change form at will. She knew not of physicality but of emotion. And then the Kingdom of Hekima came, bringing with it prosperous invention and ways to keep the world working better, more beautifully. And then the Kingdom of Xoia-”
Bianca gasped, “Mine!”
“Yours” his mother had smiled, stroking the little girl's head. “Xoia was one of the last to appear but it brought brightness to the world that could not be found or made otherwise.”
“What happened to the beings that ruled, mom?” Percy’s voice was small, like a baby bird learning how to use its beak.
For him she cocked her head, her blue eyes glinting under the candlelight swaying above them. “What do you think Prince?”
Come home, don’t die so far from the sea
Percy awoke to the door creaking open and rough hands digging into his arms as they hauled him up. He doesn’t have the energy to demand where they were taking him. He didn’t have the wits or the power because his brain was slowly coming to realisations he was not ready to have. It was making assumptions he was terrified may be true. It was shattering his world for the billionth time. It was breaking him.
The world is still dark, but it is not that heavy blackness that seems to suck him in. It is the kind of dark that tells you the light was winning; that soon you will see pinpricks of white and yellow and gold poking through the sky and then the world will be awash in colour once more.
He is thrown onto the grey-stoned floor, hiding his wince as his knees take the brunt of it. The people who had deposited him laugh and walk away. He doesn’t bother to call after them, instead taking in the surroundings. He is in an arena. In a colosseum. He is the lamb offered up to the butcher. He is the prey stuck in a hunter’s snare. He is the entertainment.
He can picture it now; crowds stomping into the stone stands and chanting for his death. He can imagine the painter sat in the box only one lower from the royalty, slapping colour onto a canvas, swirling it in the shades of his blood. He can imagine the musicians in the box just below the painter, banging on their drums, letting the beautiful notes of a flute be the anthem to his downfall. He can imagine his husband, standing in the box above all, looking down at him with those eyes of lightning. Eyes he had woken up to when Jason’s nightmares were so bad they had to sit by his window. About that blonde hair, like strands of sunlight, he has so often wanted to run his hands through, how he mourned its discolouring when their blood coated it. About those hands that held him when they were captured and freed him so they weren’t. And he wonders, if the Prince will miss him.
Because, he realises with startling radiant clarity, somewhere in the mess that had become their lives Percy had grown to care for the Prince of Caelum. He doesn’t really know when it started; maybe when he found Jason screaming outside the door to the Captain of the Guards’ chamber; or maybe when Percy had sought him out some nights later, and held him as he cried; or maybe when Jason let him be a part of the kingdom by giving him a white rose. He can’t be sure it wasn’t a combination of all those things. He sits on the cold platform in the middle of the arena and finds himself sad, achingly sad, that he will never get that time with his husband. That he will never get to tell the Prince how he feels.
The sun rises slowly, as if trying to delay the inevitable, but Percy embraces it, letting the warmth of the final tomorrow caress his brown skin. If it is the last time he feels the sun, he wishes to do nothing but feel it. The rays are gentle on his face and he can only imagine it’s what Jason’s touch would have felt like. He sits cross-legged, chin to the sky, eyes closed to the array of colours and lets the last joys of this world embrace him.
The wrought iron gates underneath the raised stands shake and rattle, but he doesn’t open his eyes. He doesn’t know what beasts await him; he doesn’t care. Let them come, he thinks, it will be a mercy to rest at last. The crowds pour in, his people who he was set to rule one day, Jason’s people who he was set to protect one day. Still he keeps himself shut off from the world, feeling the sun, and the wind.
If he had loved anything at all he had loved the wind, the way it chased his ankles, and swept him up, and raced him, and held him, and danced with him, and coaxed him. It was a tragedy, a heartbreaking thought, that he hadn’t gotten to see his ocean one last time. He would have loved to feel the cool water on his skin, and the sand sinking under his feet. He wishes he had more time. He wants this to be over as soon as possible. Time is up.
“Good morning my people,” A voice like ancient beings and newborns croons across the colosseum. “Are you ready to witness history?”
Percy thinks of his mother, the keeper of stories, and knows she has already heard this one. Percy thinks of his father, who has returned to the beginning. He knows his parents will not come to save him. Percy thinks of his childhood friends, all leading secret lives, forged to end his own. He knows they will be in the stands to watch their victory. Percy thinks of his husband, a soldier for an army they could never have predicted. He knows they will never learn how to love one another.
The crowd is screaming, the wrought iron is rattling. Prince Perseus Jackson opens his eyes as the gate yawns open.
The arena is deafening, shaking with anticipation. He glances to the royal box nearly floating in the clouds and frowns when he doesn’t spot a flash of blonde hair.
The people are feral with excitement. A loud boom echoes from the musicians box.
Prince Jason Grace stumbles from the mouth of the arena and falls to his knees in front of the platform.
“Kill him Perseus.” A voice glimmers around him, leaking in through the ringing in his ears.
“Come home Prince,” That voice lilts, “Do not die so far from the sea.”
Jason looks up at him, blue eyes hazy, a dagger loose in his clasp. “Hello Prince.”
Percy steps down from the platform, and takes the dagger from his husband’s hands. It is almost sickening how easily he gives it over.
The crowd stomps its feet: they are ready for blood; they are ready for slaughter.
He holds the dagger up, making sure it glints in the sun. And then he draws his husband close until there is nothing between their bodies, not space, not even air.
“Let’s go home my love.” He whispers. “We will not die so far from the sea.”
I'm bored and decided to cause a little chaos to those who care about this fic!
“Good morning my people,” A voice like ancient beings and newborns croons across the colosseum. “Are you ready to witness history?”
Percy thinks of his mother, the keeper of stories, and knows she has already heard this one. Percy thinks of his father, who has returned to the beginning. He knows his parents will not come to save him. Percy thinks of his childhood friends, all leading secret lives, forged to end his own. He knows they will be in the stands to watch their victory. Percy thinks of his husband, a soldier for an army they could never have predicted. He knows they will never learn how to love one another.
The crowd is screaming, the wrought iron is rattling. Prince Perseus Jackson opens his eyes as the gate yawns open.
no prewritten chapters=sporadic updates=as surprised as you about what happens
Tell me your thoughts, I'm insecure about this chapter. Also sorry for the long ass wait I haven’t felt in the writing mood but hopefully I'm back.
together or not at all. find him. find him. find him.
Crown Prince Jason’s dream starts as all his dreams do. Him sitting on a cloud looking over a burning meadow. He feels himself wince as if his body already knows its going to be hurt and then he is pulled under, under, under and suddenly the dream is a memory. One he had forgotten about, one he wishes he'll live through for the rest of his life.
"Prince," A soft, warm voice calls. "Are you in here?"
There is a moment of quiet, the crackling of the fire and the turn of the page the only interruptions.
"I'm here." The reply is gentle, and sweet, and full of the brightest days.
Jason blinks, looks through long blonde lashes. "Hello my Ardor"
Leo sinks into the couch, grabbing his hand with the need to be close and comfortable and together. "What are you doing here so late?"
"I had some things to research before tomorrow meeting with FreedomtoFeed."
The Captain of the Guards raises an eyebrow and gives a pointed look to the raunchy cover of the novel he has clasped in his hands. "That looks very appropriate for a feeding-the-people initiative."
He blushes crimson and shuts the book with a huff of embarrassment. "I finished the research."
Leo pulls them together until their foreheads bump gently, "I'm only teasing. But you should go to sleep."
"Will you join me?"
The fingers dancing at the nape of his neck still, and smoldering brown eyes catch his. "Of course."
They release twin breathes and move impossible closer, until lips brush against skin and oxygen is sparse.
"You are so beautiful," The Prince whispers, kissing his jaw. His cheek. Nose. Throat.
"Please kiss me." Leo is shaking with anticipation, arousal.
And who is Jason to refuse such a precious request? He brushes his lips gently across his Ardor's and groans at the softness he finds. Pillows, and peaches, and sweetness that only intensifies when it deepens. Their tongues dance, explore each other languidly. Like time is nothing but a suggestion. His fingers brush silken warm cheeks and dance across Leo's skin until they're resting on his thighs.
Jason is breathless when he breaks away, "You are—" His words are cut off as the Guard pulls their faces together.
"No talking now my Prince. Tonight we only feel."
Jason feels himself frown, as the memory becomes hazy, disjointed. This wasn't how it happened.
‘Together or not at all. find him. find him. find him.” Leo gasps, his head falling on the Prince's shoulder. "Jase, I can't—" He's cut off by a cry.
And suddenly all his beautiful brown skin is turning to ash under Jason's hands. He tries to grab on to anything, any part of Leo, but the more he holds the more ash comes away.
"Ardor?" He cries. This isn't how it happens. This isn't the way it goes. He can't go like this. They can't leave each other. He just got him back.
He can't, he can't, he can't, he c—
Prince Jason Grace wakes up with a scream, blunt finger nails tearing into his chest as he attempts to rid himself of the nightmare. And when his eyes adjust to the world he only knows darkness and despair. The love of his life is still dead and he is still far away from his dear kingdom. Actually he has no idea where he is at all. That thought is the final pick in the ice and suddenly his body is wracking with sobs. His life is a complete fucking mess. And he doesn't want to do this anymore. Every event piles onto his chest like boulders until he can't breathe, until he is hyperventilating.
Far from home; Leo is dead; kidnapped; tortured; his husband is—
Wait where is his husband? The thought shocks him out of his panic so fast he's reeling as he sits up. The cold floor underneath his fingers ground him to the present and he pushes off the concrete onto shaky legs. He feels so weird, like his body is not his own, like he's been forcibly removed from it and shoved into a whole new one and now he has to learn how to be human all over again. He feels like he's died. Slowly he stumbles around until he hits a wall and then plastering his right hand to it he walks. Or more like drags himself along, nails scraping against the brick and a bare shoulder scratching against the roughness.
His eyes are useless for anything further than his feet and he sees no evidence of light. But the room, or what he's beginning to suspect is a hallway, continues so he to keeps going. Someone will fill in all the blanks in his memory but first he has to find his husband. There is a deep chasm in his chest and he has the ugly feeling it will only start filling when he sees those green eyes and floppy curls. It almost disgusts him how much he needs to see the Prince of Mare. It's like his body, his heart, has forgotten about Leo entirely. He feels sick to his stomach at the thought so he banishes everything but the need to get out of here. Suddenly he hits a wall, hard enough that he knows there’ll be a bruise tomorrow. With a silent prayer to gods he didn't care to believe in, he turns his body and keeps walking. Right hand still on the wall.
There is nothing and no-one. He feels likes he's in the inside of a black hole. There is not even the faint sounds of outside. It is just his dragging feet and his cracking nails and the ringing in his ear from the sheer lack of sound.
He will get out of here. He will get out of here. He will get out of here. He will get out of here. He will get out of here. He will get out of here. He will get out of here. He will get out of here. He will get out of here. He will get out of here. He will get out of here. He will get out of here. He will get out of here. He will get out of here. He will get out of here. He will—
There's a scraping sound. Someone gives a sharp inhale. A pinprick stings his neck. He is never getting out of here.
together or not at all. find him. find him. find him.
Prince Jason clutches his rolling stomach, and without warning throws up the little contents that may have been in there. Before he even opens his eyes he knows whatever he will see cannot be good. Even behind his eyelids it is unnaturally bright and he can hear hushed whispers coming from somewhere. They sound angry. He will get the brunt of it.
"Well well well," A rapsy voice echoes around him.
He forces his eyes open and blinks back the harsh neon lighting to see Annabeth Chase, his previous kidnapper, and Grover Underwood.
"It's such a pity you don't remember me." She pouts unhappily, but there is nothing but viciousness in her grey eyes.
He wonders what he should remember.
"How do you feel Jason?"
"Like I died. Like I want to get out of here. Like I need to see my husband." He spits at the man leaning against the wall so casually.
"All in due time. But while we have you here I think we could use you."
"Why should I help either of you?" He curls his lip, anger making his vision blur, "You," He points a disgusted finger at the blonde girl, "Kidnapped me and Percy and then proceeded to torture us." She giggles and he wants to bury that sound six feet underground. "And you," He looks to Grover, the advisor to Mare and Percy's friend. He looks every bit the enemy. "I don't trust you one bit. Not if you can have her in your presence so calmly."
"I'm not looking for your trust Prince," The man, the being, scoffs. "I just need your cooperation. Otherwise Annabeth here has permission to get as creative as possible."
Grover tilts his head to her, a silent conversation passing between them, and then he leaves without so much as a glance to him.
"I'll never tell you anything." He growls at her.
She grins, pretty white teeth gleaming in the horrible light. "Let me tell you a story Prince Jason Grace, about the day you lost your sister."
"My who?"
She gives a secret smile and begins.
Twenty seven years ago a girl with blonde hair and grey eyes was born to The King and Queen of Mare. She was a sweet little girl with pigtails and a sharp mind and she kept her parents on their toes every second. One day this little girl's mom came to tell her that she would soon be getting a little sibling to play with and care for. The little girl was undeniably excited, or as excited as you can be when you're three years old and get told you're getting a small person just like you. Needless to say a little boy with blonde hair the exact same shade as hers, and blue eyes as bright as the summer skies was born. While she had eyes the exact shade of her mother’s he had their father’s eyes. And it was dangerous, but nobody knew that then. The little girl loved him immediately and with all her heart. They spent every moment together. Growing up and learning and loving each other as if it was the only natural thing to do. But when the little girl turned eighteen she received some horrible news. Her mother had died. Her brave beautiful mother who gave her kisses and taught her chess and spent hours reading to them. Understandably the family was devasted and they took it very hard. The girl— not so little anymore, grief will do that to a person— was angry and broken and unwilling to listen to the world that had so unfairly taken from her. So she rebelled against their father and lost their mother. And in her quest to feel something she engaged in nefarious, sinful, delightful activities. It was there that she met the love of her life. The Crown Princess of Hekima. Reyna. They got married within a year and have been together ever since. But the girl found out something about her mother's death and she was so furious as she rightfully should be that she renounced her title and vowed to bring down the very thing that killed her beloved mother.
together or not at all. find him. find him. find him.
“You are terrible at telling stories.”
Annabeth smiles like a lion ready to pounce. "Figured out who the little girl is?"
"You." He heaves, chest constricting as he takes her in.
"And her little brother?"
"How come I don't remember you?"
"When we kidnapped you we put a serum in that would make you forget certain aspects of your life." She shrugs as if she's discussing the weather.
"And you feel no remorse for hurting your brother?" He spits at her feet.
Her grey eyes flash like steel and she gets into his face. "I have no family."
"Why tell me at all? Why not just let me be ignorant?"
That makes her smile- no, bare her teeth. "Because unlike me Jason Grace you would do anything for the people you love, for the people you think you owe. No matter the cost."
"I'm not telling you anything." His voice is hard. Like the concrete he is pressed into. Like thunder.
"Nah uh," She grins at him, "I'm your sister remember. You wouldn't deny your sister the information she wants."
"Try me."
It must be a sibling thing because a challenge enters both their eyes and it shines bright enough to dull the horrid neon lighting in the room.
"How do we kill Crown Prince Perseus Jackson?"
He blinks at her. Blinks again. And then he starts laughing. Knee slapping, stomach aching, wheezing kind of laughter. He can't breathe. He can't even see because his eyes are so filled with tears.
"I'm serious." She grinds out.
"How the fuck should I know? We don't discuss ways to kill each other," He rolls his eyes, muttering "Even if we do think about it."
"You must know. You have to know. It is woven into your DNA. You meet each other in every lifetime and die. You have seen it for centuries."
His fading laughter vanishes completely as he whips his head up to look at her. "What?"
"You and Perseus. You guys are immortal deities who appear whenever the world needs to be remade.” Her voice is impatient as if he should know this. As if she’s explaining it to an incompetent child. “You as the healer and him as the destroyer. But people and beings alike have been killing you for centuries because your presence means they will cease to exist. You have watched each other die multiple times. You have revived each other multiple times too."
"So you're saying we're soulmates?" He can hardly believe what he's hearing. It sounds like the biggest load of bullshit he's ever heard.
"No. You're more than that. You aren't just two halves that fit to make a whole. You aren't even two wholes that fit to make a pair. You are each other. You do not exist without him. He does not exist without you. You are not bound by souls or hearts or whatever us humans believe is the epitome of love. You are bound by life."
"I don't believe you." He rolls his eyes. This is garbage. This is nonsense. This is not real.
"I don't really have time to argue with you about it. Just tell me what I need to know and you will be spared."
"Why should I?" He's not even considering it. He would never betray his husband like that. Would never put the Prince in such volatile danger.
"Because if you don't," She gives another of her terrifying grins, "The kingdom you know and love will crumble to nothing."
"You're lying."
"It's already started Jason." She cackles, "The more time you spend with Perseus the more he will bleed into you and you into him. There are already cracks in the castle. Do you really want to risk it?"
His heart is pounding but she is wrong. Isn't she? "I don't believe you." He says again.
"Oh Jase," She gives him a pitying look and he wants to rip her eyes out and toss them in a lake to watch the fish. "The Castle of Caelum is falling to the ground. Your Prince's blood spilled on mom's roses and they crumbled to dust. There are splinters in the stone. They will become chasms. Either you help us or you risk your precious kingdom turning to debris right before you."
"And what's in it for me?"
"You'll be spared from the slaughter of the monarchs."
"And my husband?"
"He will die. This is non negotiable. One of you must, to stop you from fulfilling your fates. We have someone with him right now."
Wrong answer. But he bows his head and pretends to mull it over. Inside his thoughts are whirring like a new machine and plan after plan formulates in his mind.
"Okay Annabeth Chase, my sister," He smiles soft and sweet. She returns it in triumph. "I will join your rebellion. I will tell you how to kill my husband."
And as she picks him up from the floor and removes the invisible ties keeping him pinned to the concrete he allows himself a secret smile of his own. It hints at the malice, the destruction, to come. They made the biggest mistake of their lives when they took him away from the Prince. They will pay.
I'm coming for you Percy.
So Crown Prince Jason Grace loops his arm through his sister's and makes friends with his enemy.
together or not at all. find him. find him. find him.
I don’t really know how I feel about this part. Feels a bit all over the place but at least we’re getting some clarification which is cool. Also are Annabeth and the rebels the good guys or bad guys for wanting to save the world from Jase and Perc? *raises eyebrow curiously*
Tags (if you want to be added to/ taken off the tag list just let me know, all my channels of communication are open):
Day 2: “You should probably go home.”/“But I’m already home.”
masterlist
Kingdom Collisions AU (prequel scene): you do not have to read or be caught up on my Kingdom Collisions fic to know what’s happening here
Princess Piper Mclean wakes up to the midday sun and sighs contentedly, stretching her languid limbs until they shake. It is one of those rare days when her princessely duties are non-existent and her mother wouldn’t bug her because she’s not there. She hears the soft chirp of birds outside and peers out the window to see scarlet-breasted sparrows hopping along the branches and singing merry tunes. She loves summer. Everything is always so cheerful and full of life. It reminds her of childhood. A gentle knock sounds at the door and she recognises it as her handmaid/tutor/nanny. Her friend.
“Come in Anisa.”
“Princess,” She smiles, bowing her head with one hand over her chest.
“Hello,” Piper sits up in bed, “I like your hijab.” It is the most beautiful shade of blue, like sapphires in glittering water.
“Thank you.” Her lady smiles, “I have brought you something to eat.”
“Are we classifying this as breakfast or lunch?” The princess teases, knowing her need for order and compartmentalisation.
“Brunch. A truly glorious invention.” Anisa huffs, scrunching her nose at the crack.
“Well thank you all the same. Are you going to join me?” She takes off the silver cover of the tray to reveal berry and cream waffles and a steaming cappuccino with the prettiest leaf design. “Chef Ambrosia is really getting creative with their designs.”
“I’m pretty sure they just have the biggest crush on you and the only reason they haven’t put a heart is because it would be wholly inappropriate.”
The princess just laughs and digs into her meal with vigour. They talk about non-essential things like her dress for the upcoming ball and their various plans for the weekend. Anisa was finally going home to see her children and anyone could see the excitement radiating off her. Now that she didn't have to be a nanny all the time she could actually look after her own children. Finally the waffle is demolished and the cappuccino nothing but froth.
Anisa looks at her carefully.
Piper raises a brow, “What?”
“I have some news.”
Immediately her heart is beating a thousand miles a minute and there is disaster after disaster crossing her mind. “What?” She says again, this time breathless with worry.
“A certain Prince wants to visit.”
She immediately lets out a gush of air, her whole body dropping in relief. And then she registers what her friend had said and her brown eyes go as wide as saucers. The last time she had seen that prince, because undoubtedly it could only be that prince, she had nearly ruined their lifelong friendship by almost kissing him. Now she doesn’t trust herself around him, which means she’s been avoiding him.
“I think you should say yes.” Anisa gives her a pointed look, “He’s worried something is wrong because you can’t woman up and face your feelings. You’re hurting him by avoiding him.”
The Princess groans, scrubbing a hand across her face. “I know, I know. But I just can’t face him without wanting to either make the world swallow me up or jumping his annoying pretty bones.”
“You should invite him to the ball.”
Piper closes her eyes, the sun suddenly too bright, too hot against her sensitive skin. If she invites Perseus she’ll get to see him and reassure him and actually get to spend time with her friend, which she misses, greatly. Her own fault. If she doesn’t invite him she can put off dealing with her ever-growing, constantly-harder-to-ignore feelings and have an embarrassment, possibly rejection free night. The coward’s way out. She is many things, but a coward has never been one of them.
“Okay,” She nods, letting the decision settle in her core, “Let’s invite him. He can stay the night. Hell the week if he wants.”
Her friend claps her hand and gathers the empty dishes and cutlery. “Ill be here to collect the letter this evening to send out for the night post. Don’t be late.” She waggles a finger, ever the mother. “And use the blue wax seal. It’s his favourite.”
“It is?” Sometimes she feels like a terrible friend.
Anisa just winks and makes a graceful exit, her hijab catching in the once again warm rays, and glittering sweetly.
A week later her castle is abuzz with activity: caterers and decorators and various other event planners all running around like hounds are at their feet. There is little more than an hour to the ball and Piper is finally getting around to putting on her dress and swiping a little lipstick on. She fell in love with her garment the moment she laid eyes on it and now that she sees it in her gilded mirror she feels as if every stitch was made with her in mind. A deep maroon fell across her in waves of silk, starting with the string-thin straps over her shoulders, into the straight neckline, and down, down, down to the skirt that flared at her waist and trailed against the pristine marble floors. She buckles gold shoes at her ankles and slips on two small diamond encrusted earrings. With a final glance at her reflection she steps out of her room and into the transformed hallways. There are flowers hanging from the ceilings and stars underneath her feet and she feels as if the world has turned on its axis. Adequate considering it is Summer Solstice which marks the changing. She nods hello to the guests and servants rushing through the passage and then she is outside the ballroom doors.
With a deep breath she smiles at the doorman who returns it before pushing the door open.
“Presenting Princess Piper Mclean of Hanaan.” A loud clear voice says from somewhere to her left.
She curtsies low to the room and then glides down the stairs to greet her mother. All the while her eyes are scanning the room, trying to catch a particular head of black curls, and skin only slightly darker than her own. When her scan comes up empty she hides the disappointment behind a practiced smile and engages in conversation with some duke and duchess. She really isn’t paying attention to anything so it catches her by surprise when a warm hand brushes her waist and the familiar scent of ocean, and wind, and life surround her.
“Sorry Duke,” A charming smile disintegrates her worries. “May I steal the princess away for a dance?”
“Please,” The duke is jovial, waving them away. The duchess smiles that smile that says aw cute young love.
Piper wants to see them through her eyes. But before she can think on it she is being whisked away and planted on the dance floor, suddenly staring up at hypnotic green eyes and that troublemaker’s smirk.
“Sorry for my tardiness Princess. Wanted to make a grand entrance.” Crown Prince Perseus Jackson grins.
She narrows her eyes at him as they sway across the floor, “You overslept your nap again didn’t you?”
He rolls his eyes, stealing a pinch on her side that tickles more than hurts. “Actually I got caught up in the music room.”
Her eyes light up like crackling fire, “Will you play for me?”
“Anything you want,” He whispers and pulls them closer, so her dress is flush against his suit, also made of the smoothest satin.
“How have you been?”
He gives her a look that she chooses to ignore. “You would know if you weren’t avoiding me.”
“I’m not avoiding you,” He dips her, and she thanks the heavens they put her hair up or it would be sweeping the floor.
He pulls her back up and sets a determined gaze on her, “Yes you are. I haven’t seen you in almost three weeks. We’ve never gone that long without-”
“Okay, okay,” She’s never going to win this argument. “Maybe I have been avoiding you just a little.”
“Tell me why.” His voice is soft but his tone is demanding. She loves when he gets like this.
The music speeds up and before she can reply he’s twirling her so fast only the years of ballet are keeping her from dizziness. When she stops abruptly right against his chest she is only faintly aware of the scattered applause.
“It’s not important.”
“It is to me.” Raspy, gentle, caring, raspy, raspy, raspy.
She suppresses a shiver. “I’m planning a surprise party for your birthday and i’ve been a little busy with the details.”
He growls in her ear before lifting her up in a twirl of his own and setting her down, “Liar.”
“Am not.” She huffs. The music speeds up.
They spin, and spin, and spin.
“You are. You used the surprise birthday party excuse every year for something or the other.” A gleam enters his eyes as he dips her and swoops her all the way up until she’s back to looking at his beautiful, angular face. “In fact last year you used it because two books from your favourite series were coming out at the same time and you didn’t want to be disturbed until you were finished.”
She stifles a giggle and looks anywhere but at him, because she will burst out laughing if she sees his judgemental look.
“Okay, okay.” The music reaches a crescendo as he lifts her high above his head, so she can see every patron attending the ball, and the crystal chandeliers hanging like rose bouquets above her. He sets her down and they stop abruptly; the last chord of the violin reverbrates through the room. “But let's go outside.”
She is breathless, his chest is heaving, and the applause is deafening. They are angelic. Percy raises a hand to present her and she curtsies for their audience. The claps get impossibly louder. She maintains a dignified smile, but can do nothing about the beautiful flush of her cheeks as she presents her dance partner who bows low and blows a kiss. The spectators laugh, some swoon, she wants to scowl. She smiles brighter.
And then they're racing outside and into their favourite place to get lost: the Maze of Madness. He laces their fingers together and sprints for the center, diving around corners and cursing at dead ends. She just laughs, her hair coming loose and her princessly state unhinged. She is nothing but sweetness, and flower petals, and summer breezes.
Finally they get to the center where the white stone bench sits, engraved with the words Si vis amari, ama. If you want to be loved, love. Gifted to them before she was an inkling on the horizon by the Kingdom of Caelum. The bench has held many a love story, and supported many a heartbreak. She believes it’s good luck.
They collapse onto it, stars glittering in their eyes and take a moment to catch their breaths.
Percy is the first to break their silence. “So,” he pokes her side, ‘Why are you avoiding me?”
“I was being a coward.”
He turns his body to her and gives her that intense look that simultaneously makes her wince and sets her soul on fire.
She starts slowly, trying to find the words that wouldn’t ruin their friendship but would still make her feelings clear. “I wanted to do something that night in the House of Hope but it might have turned out badly and I didn't want to risk it”
He doesn’t say anything for a while, doesn’t even seem like he’s breathing, so she forces her gaze upwards, to see green eyes burning into her.
“Some risks-” He is just as slow with his words, just as gentle. “Some risks are worth it.”
Percy puts a hand to her cheek, cold fingers brushing her skin. There is a question in his eyes that opens the cage of butterflies in her stomach.
“Kiss me Percy Jackson.” Piper whispers.
His answering smile lights up her every nerve, and when he finally brushes his soft lips against her own, every beat of her heart shudders to a stop. He cups her face in his hands, and brushes their lips over and over and over. Like he’s tasting the barest hints of her. Like if he goes any deeper he’ll never stop. She doesn’t ever want him to. So she laces her fingers behind his neck and keeps him pinned to her and when he groans her world detonates. They explore each other, in languid, deep strokes. His lips. Her tongue. His teeth. Her lips. Their hearts. They kiss like they mean it. They kiss like they’ll never get the chance again. They kiss like this is the meaning of life.
And when they break apart for gasping-interrupting air they are both grinning as wide and bright as moonlit ice. Her lips tingle and she touches a finger to them to make sure they’re still there, working, experiencing what she did.
He chases her hand away and brushes the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip. “You are so beautiful.”
Before she can reply a messenger rounds the corner, breathless. “Prince, your mother would like you back at the castle. She says it’s urgent.”
“Can it not wait till tomorrow?” He doesn’t bother to put any distance between them as he turns to the young boy. Her lips brush his cheek.
“I’m afraid not Prince, she says it’s a matter of great importance.”
He nods stiffly, and she can see the exasperation trying to escape his lungs. The messenger hurries away and Percy turns back to her, resting their foreheads together, eyes half-closed.
“You should go home,” The princess says after several beats of silence.
He presses a kiss to her forehead. “I’m already home.”
And she cannot help the smile that bursts out of her, like fireflies escaping the glass jar.
“We will continue this again soon, yes?” He opens his eyes, looks at her with all his intensity.
“Yes,” And the possibilities running through her soul float her up to cloud 9.
“Good,” He nods once, captures her lips with his again, and then tugs her up. “Then i shall go home, attend to whatever emergency my mother has and come back within the week.”
“I can’t wait.” Somewhere in the back of her mind, a clock is already ticking.
He kisses her again, like he can’t get enough, like he’s addicted. “You are beautiful Little Dove.”
Her heart squeezes at the familiar nickname. “Come back soon.” She hugs him by his car. “Come home soon.”
“You should come to Mare with me.”
“I cannot. I have to be here for the ball, and besides it’s the Floating in a few days.”
He takes her hands in his, kisses her knuckles. “Then I will be as fast as I can.”
Her eyes are shining with love as she pulls him in and kisses him one last time. He returns it with vigour, promising, promising, promising worlds between their lips.
And when she waves goodbye to the retreating black vehicle until it blends in with the night she decides the bench is in fact goodluck.
This is a fic I’m writing to incorporate more description into my work. There are no prewritten chapters so updates are sporadic on top of that I am just as in the dark as you about what happens next. Also how are we already on part nine????? Like that is crazy!
assafir means sparrows (i went through about six million translation sites to make sure but there is every possibility i am still wrong so if anyone knows Arabic please let me know)
"Percy" The little girl squealed running towards him, her dark braids flying behind her.
He gave a toothy grin, slamming into her. "Hello Little Dove."
"When momma told me you were coming I immediately asked Anisa to set up a picnic for us."
"Did you manage to get the stuff?" He whispered conspiratorially.
Naturally her voice lowered as well as their heads knocked softly together, "I did but why do we need it?"
"I'll show you. But we have to go to the house."
"The house house?" Her coffee eyes widened.
He nodded gravely, and the eight year old that he was disappeared under that expression.
"Okay, let's go." She took a deep breath and pulled him along.
"Anisa!" Her little voice rung out against the cold stone of the castle, "Anisa are you here?"
A lady rounded the corner. She fidgeted briefly with the soft pink scarf around her head and then bent down so she was eye level with them. "What do you need Princess?"
Her voice was still a whisper as she replied, "Is the basket ready?"
"Yes," Anisa said softly, "Why are we whispering."
But the princess didn't respond, instead squeezing Percy's hand. "We're going to the house."
"Okay Princess I'll send two guards to go with you."
"No!" She shouted in alarm, and then quieter, "Please no. Will you just come with us? I know you can protect us."
Anisa looked between them, studied their little hands clasped together, and the serious expressions on their faces.
"Okay. But we can't be gone too long without guards."
"We will protect each other." Percy finally spoke up, black eyebrows furrowing in determination.
Anisa smiled, "Shall we then?"
They all made their way through the gardens, roses and chrysanthemums, and dahlias growing in abundance. Colour bloomed from every crevice and spilled over the pathways like an ever-growing rainbow. Percy let his free hand trail over the petals as they walked. His little feet stumbled over uneven pavement, racing along just slow enough to not raise suspicion. The Maze of Madness spread before them and he was tempted to ask if they could go in. It was his favourite part about the castle and he tried to go at every opportunity. It was his life long mission to learn all the ways to get through. But right now their mission at hand was much more important. He would as if they could go later. Finally they reached the edge of the maze and the divided area that led to their house. Anisa jangled the keys as she found the right one and opened the garden gate.
"You are sure no guards Princess?"
She shook her head adamantly. "You will protect us. You know how."
And then they were through the castle borders and into the Sylvastine Woods. The trees grew taller than he could see, taller than the clouds and the free birds. He's sure they touched the sun. The underfoot was rough, dangerous, full of traps. But they recognized his step, his smell, the frequency he vibrated at, and the embraced him silently. He didn't know of the forests malevolence. He was too little. The world was still full of wonder and adventure and everyone was a friend.
They walked and walked and walked until the sounds of the castle and the city were far behind. Now all they could hear was a little brook bubbling through the trees, and the white noise of sunshine, ringing in their ears. The trees were quiet.
"Are we almost there?" He asked.
"Just behind that tree little one," Anisa pointed to a sapling just sprouting from the ground on an unsteady trunk.
And then they crossed it and the woods fell away. Morphed. Molded. There was nothing of the giant, looming trees and shadowed undergrowth. Instead there was sunshine and open fields and wild flowers of ever kind dancing before them. Percy laughed as the breeze tickled his flushed cheek. Magic is real. He was sure of it. They stood in front of a little cottage surrounded by creeping rose vines and the sweet scent of honey. The structure could not have been bigger than his bedroom at home but somehow he knew it held everything they could ever need.
"I will wait on the bench Assafir." Anisa pointed to a wooden swing a little way down.
"Thank you Anisa. We will call you when we are done."
And then she turned to Percy, their small hands clammy from refusing to let go, and pulled him into the cottage.
The first thing he noticed was the painting on the wall. In it stood a woman, her back facing them, her gaze to the sprawling hills before her and on her right was a little child. They were still as the dead but he swore the grass they stood on swayed gently. He blinked. It still moved. He blinked again. Everything swayed. He turned away. A small table sat in one corner and couch in the other but save for that there wasn't much else.
"Okay," She said, her whisper rough with impatience, "Tell me the secret!"
"Where are they?" He held out a hand.
She moved around him and dived over the couch, reaching for something. Her poufy navy blue dress scrunching underneath her. If her mother saw that she'd have a heart attack.
"Okay here!" She huffed.
Suddenly seven red roses were shoved into his hands.
He plonked himself down on the floor and waited for her to settle next to him. "You ready?"
Her already loose braids came undone as she nodded her head enthusiastically. He grabbed a rose gently between his fingers, taking a deep breath.
"Watch."
And then he swiped his thumb across a thorn and let the drops of blood fall onto the petals.
She frowned at him but didn't say anything. The dark blood pooled into the center of the rose, making the already red rose maroon with vibrancy.
"Percy what is—"
"Shhhh Little Dove," He stared intently at the rose.
Ever so slowly it turned black. First just the center, where the had blood pooled but slowly it spread, like a shadow, like the night. Like death.
The rose became the colour of darkness. And crumbled in his hands.
The Princess of Hanaan let out a gasp, little hands covering her mouth in shock. Her brown eyes were wide as she took in her friend. He let her see him. Let her see all that he was and waited for her reaction.
"How did you do that?" She muttered.
"I don't know," He stared at her. "I hurt myself in the garden the other day and a little blood spilled on the grass and it.... did that."
They went quiet for a while. Everything felt on the edge, dangling from a cliff. It felt unbalanced. He knew this was the moment that decided the rest of their lives. Even this young he knew the weight of her decision. He could lose his friend forever. And it made him want to cry. Because he loved her very much and if she did not understand, no-one will.
"Can you do it again?"
So he did. And when she smiled, and then giggled, and then laughed as he kept at it he knew he she would love him to the end of the earth.
"Can we show people?" She bubbled.
"No," He shook his head, scared, "I don't want them to take it away."
"But how can they?" She looked at him in confusion, "Let's show Anisa at least."
He could see the exhilaration in her eyes. "Okay," He agreed reluctantly, "We can tell Anisa. But only Anisa."
She squealed and pulled him up from the dusty wood floor, flying out of the house and to where her caretaker faithfully sat.
"Anisa!" She yelled, "Look at what Percy can do!"
Anisa turned around to watch then come towards her and then smiled at the brightness in their eyes. The brightness of joy and innocence and wonder and childhood. She held a bunch of wild roses in her hands, picked only moments before from the bushes down by the brook.
"What is it Princess?"
"Show her Percy!"
So he swiped yet another finger across a thorn and dropped the blood into the middle of the last rose the princess had brought.
"What are you doing?" Anisa exclaimed, arms already reaching to yank his shredded fingers towards her so she could see them.
"Just watch!" The princess said gleefully.
The rose did what all the others had done. And the two children looked up at their caretaker with wide smiles.
Anisa looked pale, her brown skin greyed. Eight wild roses fell to the floor.
"You cannot show this to anyone." She choked out, "Not a single person."
"What's wrong?" The princess frowned, "Don't you think it's cool?"
Anisa gives her a pained smile, "You cannot show this to people. They will— just don't show it."
"Okay," He whispered, because all of a sudden he was scared. What will happen if someone knows? Will he get into trouble? Will they? Tears pooled in his eyes.
"No little one," Anisa gave him a sorrowful look, "Do not cry."
"I'm scared." He sniffled, "What happens if someone finds out?"
"Come sit on the bench, both of you." She suddenly got up and shuffled them into their place.
"Okay I want you to close your eyes and make a wish for me. Anything in the whole world. And don't open your eyes until I say so."
And being children they were curious and excited and past worries are just that. In the past.
So they squeeze their eyes shut, join hands. And wish on every shooting star, every 11:11, and full moon, and ember in the fire. Anisa put a cool palm to their foreheads and muttered something in a language they did not know. Their skin grew warm, and she reassured them it was just the angels taking their wishes.
They smiled, eyes still closed, and nodded as her hand pressed against them.
Percy's body felt tired and he was glad his eyes were already shut.
"I'm tired." The princess yawned.
"Me too," He agreed.
Anisa shushed them softly, "Go to sleep then, Assafir."
"Goodnight Prince Percy."
"Goodnight Little Dove."
The breeze quieted, wrapping around them like a blanket and the little royals drifted off.
They woke up in a bed, warmed by the sun.
"Hello," The Princess smiled, "When did you get here?"
"I don't know," He frowned, "But want to go play?"
"Sure. But first you were supposed to tell me something?"
"Only that we should use your new paint-set to paint my piano.”
"You got a new piano?" She clapped, "When are you going to play for me?"
"I promise the next time you come to my castle."
Her returning smile made his heart flutter.
"Come on Prince!" She bounded out of bed. "We haven't gone to the house in a while. Let's go have a picnic."
And so he grabbed Princess Piper's hand and they raced for the gardens, stopping by the Maze of Madness because nothing was urgent enough to skip it.
Crown Prince Percy Jackson groans, his head spinning as he tries to sit up. His hands meet rough concrete and confusion floods his senses. Why is he not feeling the silk of his sheets, or the leather of his couch, or the velvet of his cushions? He tries to open his eyes but they feel glued shut by something that can't possibly be natural. The world is heavy on his shoulders, aching and weighted. Where is he?
His stomach growls and he wonders why he hasn't eaten, and then his nose catches the smell of something truly vile and all that hunger turns into nausea in an instant.
"Fuck" He mutters, slapping a hand over this mouth and forcing his eyes open.
The room is dull; save for a single fluorescent on the far side there is nothing that emits light. No windows or candles or anything really. The floor is in fact concrete and it scrapes against his nails. He tries to lift himself up but is slammed back into the ground by the weight of chains around his ankle.
What the fuck?
Panic fills his bloodstream. What is going on?
Frantically he looks around the room trying to find anything that'll help him, clue him in, get him out.
That's when he spots the shape curled into a ball on the opposite wall. He squints to see who it is in the minimal light. Recognition punches him and his stomach lurches. Oh gods is that...... Jason!
His heart is in his throat and his lungs are in on the floor as he scrambles to get to his husband.
"Jason," He rasps. "Prince! Please wake up!"
He can't get close enough. These chains are too short and so heavy. He needs to be there, he needs to make sure he's alive. He needs to—
Crown Prince Jason Grace gasps and bolts straight up. "Percy!"
"I'm here," He sobs, relief and fear marrying themselves in his tears, "I'm here."
"What happened?" The blonde chokes out, "What's going on?"
"We were drugged." He cries. This is not a time to be brave. He doesn't care if he's supposed to be anyway. "I don't know who or how or why."
Jason attempts to get closer, to move towards him but his chains, black and heavy against his skin pull taut and he crashes to the floor with a crack of his palm.
"We can't move far." He winces, "I tried getting to you but I'm just out of reach."
"What are these chains made of?" The blonde groans, "I feel like they're burning my leg."
"Really?" His eyes snap up, "They just feel cold against mine."
The blonde turns to cradle his leg, inspecting the chain and tugging at it unsuccessfully. “It’s getting hotter.” He frowns, scratching at it.
He tries to move towards the Prince but it is no use, the chain just rips against his already bruised skin.
"They're so hot," His husband claws at his skin, "I need to get it off!" Tears threaten to spill over his blue yes but he is too worried about getting the metal off him.
He tries to move again, tries to get to the other side, but his fingers miss the blonde by mere inches.
"Please!" Jason is screaming now, "Please get them off!"
Percy sobs, ribs stabbing at the agony he can hear so clearly in the Prince’s voice. He yanks at his own chains. Yanks hard, breaks his nails as he attempts to pry them off. He only succeeds in slicing his palm. With a curse he cradles it to him, staining the crumpled white shirt he has on.
"Are you okay?" His husband manages to gasp between his own pain.
"Fine," He winces, "I'm sorry I can't help."
Jason weeps, pain making him wretch, filling the room with an acidic tinge.
"Here." Percy has to do something, he can't watch others be in pain. He can’t watch his husband be in pain. No matter how up in arms their relationship might be. So he shrugs the shirt off his back, bloodstain and all and throws it to the blonde. "Try putting this under the chain and against your skin, maybe that will help."
The Prince quickly scrambles for the shirt and shoves the material into the small space between the metal and his leg. The bloodstain touches the metal. They don't notice, don’t care. They should.
"Better?" Percy asks.
"I think so, the burning is still intense but there's no new waves." He heaves a sigh.
They sit in silence as their pain ebb away to something tolerable. It gives him a chance to look around the room. Four walls, all concrete. No door. or at least no visible one. And certainly no windows. There are lines all over the walls. Tally marks and choppy images and there, behind Jason’s head, scratched deeply into the concrete are nine roses. He wonders who made those, what made those. Because next to them are four claws marks.
"How's your hand?"
"Stinging," His face scrunches, "But I'll live."
"Here let me see," The blonde shuffles as close as possible and he does the same, holding out his palm.
"I can almost reach you." His husband strains, fingers barely brushing against each other.
He pulls against his confinement trying to reach that golden hand.
Jason's chain snaps and he lurches forward.
"How?" They stare at the dust where the chain once was.
"What just happened?" Blue eyes are wide and bright with shock.
"I don't know but you think you can do that to me?"
"The chain is not hurting you right?" He asks all of sudden.
Percy frowns, "No but what does that have to do with anything?"
"Then let me see your hand first. Well have to figure the chain thing out so better make sure your hand is okay because I don't know how long it's going to take and this floor is filthy. I don't want you getting an infection.
He doesn't know what to say. The idea is so thoughtful, so sweet he tears up a little. "Oh, okay."
The Prince gently takes his injured palm and inspects the deep gash running through it.
"You're probably going to need stitches but the best we can do for now is wrap it in some cloth until we get out of here."
The blonde starts to move to where the discarded shirt lay but Percy stops him.
"Wait."
They turn to each other, something deep burning in their eyes, an inferno of emotions. Thoughts. Feelings.
He cups a golden cheek with his uninjured hand, and swipes the lingering tears gently. "Thank you," He whispers.
Those lightning eyes flash, heat flaring under golden skin. "I think we should talk when we get out of here." He grabs Percy's hands, kisses the knuckles gently.
"This sounds like a divorce?"
The blonde snorts, "Not quite yet."
And then the blonde grabs the shirt from the other side, the bloodstain still bright and rips a strip off.
"Guess I won't be getting that back," He laughs.
"Sorry," Jason shrugs, "Now let's see that cut."
And when Percy unfurls his fingers he nearly faints. Because there is nothing on his hand. No gash, or blood, not even a scar.
"What the fuck?" He mutters.
His husband looks pale.
"What is going on? Are we hallucinating?"
A door clicks open and ten figures walk in. Shadows cling to them like sweat and the dismal light in the room makes it hard to see their features. But both Princes notice the rose pin on each of their breast pockets. Glinting gold and bronze.
"So you haven't figured it out yet?" A clear, resonating voice says
"Figured what out?" He hesitates. This is a trap.
"Who you are, what you are capable of."
He wishes she would step into the light so he could see her.
"What the fuck do you want from us?" The Prince spits.
"The world Little Prince." They could hear the smile in her voice and it sounded lethal.
"Let us go. There is nothing we can give you here. And I don't have authorization to hand currency to anyone. You'll have to take it up with my father." His voice is hard as he moves closer to Percy.
"I'm of no use either."
"They really do not know," She giggles and the nine other people with her, still as robots only moments before, burst out laughing.
"What don't we know?" He spits.
"There's no need to worry right now Little Prince." She grins, and her teeth flash white.
"Reyna," She says, "Pin them."
A women steps towards them and they can finally see one person clearly. Her skin is the colour of copper and her hair the colour of mahogany, but it’s her eyes that make her dangerous. They are bright with violence. Her smile is gleeful.
"Hello Princes."
They feel a small prick in their necks and the world goes fuzzy.
"At last," The first voice sighs, "We have captured them. The healer and the destroyer."
Jason grabs his hand and interlaces their fingers. Squeezing once.
"Who are you?" Percy rasps.
He can see her smile as he falls to the floor, eyes already losing the fight to stay open.
