#JASON TO HIS DEATH) and he'd be alive and in college | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thewidowsghost · 1 year

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Seeing the Beauty (Piper McLean x Fem!Jackson!Reader) - Chapter 9

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Jason doesn't want to leave Leo, but he starts to think that hanging out with Cal the hockey jock might be the least dangerous option in this place.

As they climb the icy staircase, Zethes stays behind them, his blade drawn. The guy might look like a disco-era reject, but there is nothing funny about his sword. Jason figures that one hit from that thing would probably turn him into a Popsicle.

Then there is the ice princess. Every once in a while, she'd turn and give Jason a smile, but there is no warmth in her expression. She regards Jason like he is an especially interesting science specimen – one she couldn't wait to dissect.

(Y/n) doesn't seem to notice, but Jason keeps catching the ice princess watching her closely, her eyes greedy.

(Y/n) was worried that they were being led into a trap. If things go bad, she isn't sure that she could get them out alive. Without thinking about it, she takes Piper's hand for reassurance.

The daughter of Aphrodite raises her eyebrows, but doesn't let go. "It'll be fine," Piper says softly. "It's just a talk, right?"

At the top of the stairs, the ice princess looks back and notices the two teens holding hands. Her smile fades. Suddenly, (Y/n)'s hand in Piper's turns ice cold – burning cold. She lets go, her fingers smoking with frost, and so are Piper's.

"Holy fuck," (Y/n) mutters for the second time in less than twenty-four hours.

"Warmth is not a good idea here," the princess advises, "especially when I am your best change at staying alive. Please, this way."

Piper gives (Y/n) a nervous frown like, What was that about?

(Y/n) doesn't have an answers. Zethes pokes her in the back with his icicle sword, about half an inch above the small of her back, and a warning signal goes off in (Y/n)'s head – Too close! Too close!

They follow the princess down a massive hallway decked in frosty tapestries.

Freezing winds blow back and forth, and Jason's thoughts move almost as fast. He'd had a lot of time to think while they rode the dragon north, but he feels as confused as ever. Thalia's picture is still in his pocket, though he doesn't need to look at it anymore – her image has burned itself into his mind. It is bad enough not remembering his past, but to know he has a sister out there somewhere who might have the answer and to have no way of finding her. The only thing he knew about Thalia was (Y/n)'s comment earlier about how a statue of Hera had broken her legs.

In the picture, Thalia looks nothing like him. They both have blue eyes, but that is it. Her hair is black, and her complexion is more Mediterranean. Her facial features are sharper – like a hawk's.

Still, Thalia looks so familiar. Hera had left him just enough memory that he could be certain Thalia is his sister. But Annabeth had acted completely surprised when he'd told her, like she'd never heard of Thalia's having a brother. Did Thalia even know about him? How had they been separated?

(Y/n) continues to walk down the hall beside Piper, and she starts questioning the warning signal that had gone off in her head.

The River Styx's current swirls with strange objects – broken toys, ripped-up college diplomas, wilted homecoming corsages – all the dreams people had thrown away as they'd passed from life into death. Looking at the black water, (Y/n) can think of about three million places she'd rather swim.

"So," Percy begins. "We just jump in?

"You have to prepare yourself first," Nico says, "or the river will destroy you. It will burn away your body and soul."

"Sounds fun," (Y/n) mutters.

"This is no joke," Nico warns. There is only one way to stay anchored to your mortal life. You have to . . ." He glances behind the two children of Poesideon and his eyes widen. Percy and (Y/n) turn and find themselves face-to-face with a Greek warrior.

For a second, Percy thinks he's Ares, because the warrior looked exactly like the god of war – tall and buff, with a cruel, scarred face and closely shaven black hair. He is wearing a white tunic and bronze armor. He holds a plumed war helm under his arm, but his eyes are human – pale green like a shallow sea – and a blood arrow sticks out of his left calf, just above the ankle.

Percy stunk at Greek names, but even he knew the greatest warrior of all time, who had died from a wounded heel.

"Achilles," both (Y/n) and Percy say in unison.

The ghost nods. "I warned the other one not to follow my path. Now I will warn you." He looks first at Percy, and then at (Y/n).

"Luke? You spoke with Luke?" (Y/n) asks, frowning slightly.

"Do not do this," he says. "It will make you powerful. But it will also make you weak. Your prowess in combat will be beyond any mortal's, but your weakness, your failings will increase as well."

"You mean I'll have a bad heel?" Percy asks. "Couldn't we just, like, wear something besides sandals? No offense?"

Achilles stares down at his bloody foot. "The heel is only my physical weakness, demigod. My mother, Thetis, held me there when she dipped me into the Styx. What really killed me was my own arrogance. Beware! Turn back!"

And (Y/n) knows he means it. There is regret and bitterness in his voice. He was honestly trying to save them from a terrible fate.

But then again – Luke hadn't turned back. That's why he had been able to host the spirit of Kronos without his body disintegrating. This is how he'd prepared himself, and why he seemed impossible to kill. He'd bathed in the Styx and taken on the power of the greatest moral hero, Achilles. He was invincible.

(Y/n) exchanges a look with her brother.

"We have to," (Y/n) speaks for both of them. "Otherwise, we don't stand a chance."

Achilles lowers his head. "Let the gods witness that I tried. Heroes, if you mist do this, concentrate on your moral point. Imagine one spot of your body that will remain vulnerable. THis is the point where your soul will anchor your body to the world. It will be your greatest weakness, but also your only hope. No moral must be completely invulnerable. Lose sight of what keeps you moral, and the River Styx will burn you to ashes. You will cease to exist."

"I don't suppose you could tell us Luke's mortal point?" Percy asks.

He scowls at Percy. "Prepare yourself, foolish boy. Whether you survive this or not, you have sealed your doom!"

With that happy thought, he vanishes.

"Percy," Nico says, "maybe he's right."

"This was your idea."

"I know, but now that we're here—"

"Just wait on the shore. If anything happens to us . . . Well, maybe Hades will get his wish, and you'll be the child of the prophecy after all."

He doesn't look pleased about that, but (Y/n) doesn't care.

Before she could change her mind, (Y/n) concentrates on the small of her back — a tiny point just opposite her navel, a point well defended when she wore her armor. It would be hard to hit by accident, and few enemies would aim for it on purpose. No place is perfect, but this seemed right to her, and a lot more dignified than, like, her armpit or something.

(Y/n) pictures a string, a bungee cord connecting her to the world from the small of her back. And (Y/n) and Percy step into the river.

"Hey," Piper's voice tears (Y/n) back to the present. She touches (Y/n)'s arm. "You still with me?"

"Yeah . . . I . . . Yeah, sorry," (Y/n) murmurs, and Piper meet's (Y/n)'s gaze for a moment.

(Y/n) is grateful for Piper. She needed a friend, and (Y/n) is glad she started losing the Aphrodite blessing. Her makeup is fading, and her hair is slowly going back to its old choppy style with the cute little braids down the sides. It made her look more real, and as far as (Y/n) is concerned, more beautiful.

She is sure now that they'd never known each other before the Grand Canyon. Their friendship was just a trick of the Mist in Piper's mind, but the longer (Y/n) spends with her, the more she wishes it had been real. That she had known Piper longer than a day and a half.

Stop that, she tells herself. It isn't fair to Piper, thinking that way.

At the end of the hallway, the demigods find themselves in front of a set of oaken doors carved with a map of the world. In each corner is a man's bearded face, blowing wind. (Y/n) is pretty sure she'd seen maps like this before, but in this version, all the wind guys are Winter, blowing ice and snow from every corner of the world.

The princess turns. Her brown eyes glitter, and Jason feels like he is a Christmas present she is hoping to open. "This is the throne room," she says. "Be on your best behavior, Jason Grace. My father can be . . . chilly. I will translate for you, and try to encourage him to hear you out. I do hope he spares you. We could have such fun."

Jason guesses this girl's definition of fun was not the same as his. "Um, okay," he manages. "But really, we're just here for a little talk. We'll be leaving right afterward."

The princess smiles. "I love heroes. So blissfully ignorant."

Piper rests her hand on her dagger. "Well, how about you enlighten us? You say you're going to translate for us, and we don't even know who you are. What's your name?"

The girl sniffs with distaste. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised you don't recognize me. Even in the ancient times the Greeks did not know me well. Their island homes were too warm, too far from my domain. I am Khione, daughter of Boreas, goddess of snow."

She stirs the air with her finger, and a miniature blizzard swirls around her – big, fluffy flakes as soft as cotton.

"Now come," Khione says. The oaken door blows open, and cold blue light spills out of the room. "Hopefully you will survive your little talk."

Mist hangs in the air. (Y/n) shivers, slipping her hands into the pockets of her jacket, and she clutches her pen in her pocket. Along the walls, purple tapestries show scenes of snowy forests, barren mountains, and glaciers. High above, ribbons of colored light — the aurora borealis — pulses along the ceiling. A layer of snow covers the floor, so (Y/n) has to step carefully. All around the room stand life-size ice sculpture warriors — some in Greek armor, some medieval, some in modern camouflage — all frozen in various attack positions, swords raised, guns locked and loaded.

At least Jason thought they were sculptures. Then he tries to step between two Greek spearmen, and they move with surprising speed, their joints cracking and spraying ice crystals as they cross their javelins to block Jason's path.

From the far end of the hall, a man's voice rings out in a language that sounds like French. The room is so long and misty, Jason can't see the other end; but whatever the man says, the ice guards uncross their javelins.

"It's fine," Khione says. "My father has ordered them not to kill you just yet."

"Super," Jason replies.

Zethes prods him in the back with his sword. "Keep moving, Jason Junior."

"Please don't call me that."

"My father is not a patient man," Zethes warns, "and the beautiful Piper, sadly, is losing her magic hairdo very fast. Later, perhaps, I can lend her something from my wide assortment of hair products."

"Thanks," Piper grumbles.

They keep walking, and the mist parts to reveal a man on an ice throne. He is sturdily built, dressed in a stylish white suit that seems woven from snow, with dark purple wings that spread out to either side. His long hair and shaggy beard are encrusted with icicles, so (Y/n) can't tell if his hair is gray or just white with frost. His arched eyebrows make him look angry, but his eyes twinkle more warmly than his daughter's — as if he might have a sense of humor buried somewhere under that permafrost. (Y/n) hoped so.

"Bienvenu," the king says. "Je suis Boreas Le Roi. Et vous?"

Khione the snow goddess is about to speak, but Piper steps forward and curtsied. "Votre Majesté," she says. "Je suis Piper McLean. Et voici Jason, fils de Zeus. Et (Y/n) Jackson, fille de Poséidon."

The king smiles with pleasant surprise. "Vous parlez français? Très bien!"

"Piper, you speak French?" (Y/n) asks.

Piper frowns. "No. Why?"

"You just spoke French."

Piper blinks. "I did?" The king said something else, and Piper nodded. "Oui, Votre Majesté."

The king laughs and claps his hands, obviously delighted. He says a few more sentences then sweeps his hand toward his daughter as if shooing her away.

Khione looks miffed. "The king says –"

"He says I'm a daughter of Aphrodite," Piper interrupts, "so naturally I can speak French, which is the language of love. I had no idea. His Majesty says Khione won't have to translate now.

Behind them, Zethes snorts, and Khione shoots him a murderous look. She bows stiffly to her father and takes a step back.

The king sizes up Jason, and Jason decides it would be a good idea to bow. "Your Majesty, I'm Jason Grace. Thank you for, urn, not killing us. May I ask . . . why does a Greek god speak French?"

Piper has another exchange with the king. "He speaks the language of his host country," Piper translates. "He says all gods do this. Most Greek gods speak English, as they now reside in the United States, but Boreas was never welcomed in their realm. His domain was always far to the north. These days he likes Quebec, so he speaks French."

The king says something else, and Piper turns pale. "The king says . . ." She falters. "He says —"

"Oh, allow me," Khione says, smirking. "My father says he has orders to kill you. Did I not mention that earlier?"

(Y/n) tenses. The king was still smiling amiably, like he'd just delivered great news."Kill us?" (Y/n) asks. "Why?"

"Because," the king says, in heavily accented English, "my lord Aeolus has commanded it."

Boreas rises. He steps down from his throne and furls his wings against his back. As he approaches, Khione and Zethes bow. Jason, (Y/n), and Piper follow their example.

"I shall deign to speak your language," Boreas says, "as Piper McLean has honored me in mine. Toujours, I have had a fondness for the children of Aphrodite. As for you, Jason Grace, my master Aeolus would not expect me to kill a son of Lord Zeus . . . without first hearing you out." Boreas then sizes up (Y/n). "As for you, Jackson. I'm sure your upstart father wouldn't mind. He has replacements."

Piper watches (Y/n)'s jaw tense, and (Y/n) pulls a hand from her pocket, still clutching her pen. If she was forced to fight, Piper doesn't like her friend's chances. Two seconds at least to summon her blade. Then she'd be facing a god, two of his children, and an army of freeze-dried warriors.

"Aeolus is the master of the winds, right?" Jason asks quickly, taking Boreas's attention off of (Y/n). "Why would he want us dead?"

"You are demigods," Boreas replies, as if this explained everything. "Aeolus's job is to contain the winds, and demigods have always caused him many headaches. They ask him for favors. They unleash winds and cause chaos. But the final insult was the battle with Typhon last summer . . ."

Boreas waves his hand, and a sheet of ice like a flat-screen TV appears in the air. Images of a battle flicker across the surface — a giant wrapped in storm clouds, wading across a river toward the Manhattan skyline. Tiny, glowing figures — the gods, Jason guesses — swarm around him like angry wasps, pounding the monster with lightning and fire. Finally the river erupts in a massive whirlpool, and the smoky form sinks beneath the waves and disappears.

"The storm giant, Typhon," Boreas explains. "The first time the gods defeated him, eons ago, he did not die quietly. His death released a host of storm spirits — wild winds that answered to no one. It was Aeolus's job to track them all down and imprison them in his fortress. The other gods — they did not help. They did not even apologize for the inconvenience. It took Aeolus centuries to track down all the storm spirits, and naturally this irritated him. Then, last summer, Typhon was defeated again —"

"And his death released another wave of venti," Jason guesses. "Which made Aeolus even angrier."

"C'est vrai," Boreas agreed.

"But, Your Majesty," Piper says, "the gods had no choice but to battle Typhon. He was going to destroy Olympus! Besides, why punish demigods for that?"

The king shrugs. "Aeolus cannot take out his anger on the gods. They are his bosses, and very powerful. So he gets even with the demigods who helped them in the war. He issued orders to us: demigods who come to us for aid are no longer to be tolerated. We are to crush your little mortal faces."

There is an uncomfortable silence.

"That sounds . . . extreme," Jason ventures. "But you're not going to crush our faces yet, right? You're going to listen to us first, 'cause once you hear about our quest —''

"Nfes, yes," the king agrees. "You see, Aeolus also said that a son of Zeus might seek my aid, and if this happened, I should listen to you before destroying you, as you might — how did he put it? — make all our lives very interesting. I am only obligated to listen, however. After that, I am free to pass judgment as I see fit. But I will listen first. Khione wishes this also. It may be that we will not kill you."

Jason feels like he can almost breathe again. "Great. Thanks."

"Do not thank me." Boreas smiles. "There are many ways you could make our lives interesting. Sometimes we keep demigods for our amusement, as you can see." He gestures to the various ice statues.

Piper makes a strangled noise. "You mean – they're all demigods? Frozen demigods? They're alive?"

"An interesting question," Boreas concedes, as if it had never occurred to him before. "They do not move unless they are obeying my orders. The rest of the time, They are merely frozen. Unless they were to melt, I suppose, which would be very messy.

Khione steps behind (Y/n), and places her cold fingers on her neck. "My father gives me such lovely presents," she murmurs in (Y/n)'s ear. "Join our court. Perhaps I'll let your friends go."

"What?" Zethes breaks in. "If Khione gets this one, then I deserve the girl. Khione always gets more presents!"

"Now, children," Boreas says sternly. "Our guests will think you are spoiled! Besides, you moved too fast. We have not even heard the demigod's story yet. Then we will decide what to do with them. Please, Jason Grace, entertain us."

Jason feels his brain shutting down. He doesn't look at (Y/n) or Piper for fear he'd completely lose it. He'd gotten them into this, and now they are going to die — or worse, they'd be amusements for Boreas's children and end up frozen forever in this throne room, slowly corroding from freezer burn.

Khione purrs, padding over to Jason, and stroking his neck. Jason doesn't plan it, but electricity sparks along his skin. There is loud pop, and Khione flies backward, skidding across the floor.

Zethes laughs. "That is good! I'm glad you did that, even though I have to kill you now."

For a moment, Khione is too stunned to react. Then the air around her begins to swirl with a micro-blizzard. "You dare —"

"Stop," Jason orders, with as much force as he can muster. "You're not going to kill us. And you're not going to keep us. We're on a quest for the queen of the gods herself, so unless you want Hera busting down your doors, you're going to let us go." He sounds a lot more confident than he feels, but it gets their attention. Khione's blizzard swirls to a stop. Zethes lowers his sword. They both look uncertainty at their father.

"Hmm," Boreas says. His eyes twinkle, but Jason can't tell if it is with anger or amusement. "A son of Zeus, favored by Hera? This is definitely a first. Tell us your story."

Jason would've botched it right there. He hadn't been expecting to get the chance to talk, and now that he could, his voice abandoned him.

Piper saves him. "Your Majesty." She curtsies again with incredible poise, considering her life is on the line. She tell Boreas the whole story, from the Grand Canyon to the prophecy, much better and faster than Jason could have.

"All we ask for is guidance," Piper concludes. "These storm spirits attacked us, and they're working for some evil mistress. If we find them, maybe we can find Hera."

The king strokes the icicles in his beard. Out the windows, night had fallen, and the only light comes from the aurora borealis overhead, washing everything in red and blue.

"I know of these storm spirits," Boreas says. "I know where they are kept, and of the prisoner they took."

"You mean Coach Hedge?" (Y/n) questions. "He's alive?"

Boreas waves aside the question. "For now. But the one who controls these storm winds . . . It would be madness to oppose her. You would be better staying here as frozen statues."

"Hera's in trouble," Jason says. "In three days she's going to be — I don't know — consumed, destroyed, something. And a giant is going to rise."

"Yes," Boreas agrees. He shoots Khione an angry look. "Many horrible things are waking. Even my children do not tell me all the news they should. The Great Stirring of monsters that began with Kronos – your father Zeus foolishly believed it would end when the Titans were defeated." The king glances at (Y/n) and Piper and Jason look at the daughter of Poesidon. "But just as it was before, so it is now. The final battle is yet to come, and the one who will wake is more terrible than any Titan. Storm spirits — these are only beginning. The earth has many more horrors to yield up. When monsters no longer stay in Tartarus, and souls are no longer confined to Hades . . . Olympus has good reason to fear."

Jason isn't sure what all this means, but he doesn't like the way Khione is smiling — like this is her definition of fun.

"So you'll help us?" Jason asks the king.

Boreas scowls. "I did not say that."

"Please, Your Majesty," Piper says. Everyone's eyes turn towards her. She had to be scared out of her mind, but she looks beautiful and confident — and it has nothing to do with the blessing of Aphrodite. She looks like herself again, in day-old traveling clothes with choppy hair and no makeup. But she almost glows with warmth in that cold throne room. "If you tell us where the storm spirits are, we can capture them and bring them to Aeolus. You'd look good in front of your boss. Aeolus might pardon us and the other demigods. We could even rescue Gleeson Hedge. Everyone wins."

"She's pretty," Zethes mumbles. "I mean, she's right."

"Father, don't listen to her," Khione says. "She's a child of Aphrodite. She dares to charmspeak a god? Freeze her now!"

Boreas considers this. Jason slips his hand in his pocket and gets ready to bring out the gold coin. If things go wrong, he'd have to move fast.

The movement catches Boreas's eye. "What is that on your forearm, demigod?"

Jason hadn't realized his coat sleeve had gotten pushed up, revealing the edge of his tattoo. Reluctantly, he shows Boreas his marks.

The god's eyes widen. Khione actually hisses and steps away.

Then Boreas does something unexpected. He laughs so loudly, an icicle cracks from the ceiling and crashes next to his throne. The god's form begins to flicker. His beard disappears. He grows taller and thinner, and his clothes change into a Roman toga, lined with purple. His head is crowned with a frosty laurel wreath, and a gladius — a Roman sword like Jason's — hangs at his side.

"Aquilon," Jason says, though he doesn't know where he gets the god's Roman name from.

The god inclines his head. "You recognize me better in this form, yes. And yet you said you come from Camp Half-Blood?"

Jason shifts his feet. "Uh . . . yes, Your Majesty."

"And Hera sent you there . . ." The winter god's eyes are full of mirth. "I understand now. Oh, she plays a dangerous game. Bold, but dangerous! No wonder Olympus is closed. They must be trembling at the gamble she has taken."

"Jason," Piper says nervously, "why did Boreas change shape? The toga, the wreath. What's going on?"

"It's his Roman form," Jason replies. "But what's going on — I don't know."

The god laughs. "No, I'm sure you don't. This should be very interesting to watch."

"Does that mean you'll let us go?" Piper asks.

"My dear," Boreas says, "there is no reason for me to kill you. If Hera's plan fails, which I think it will, you will tear each other apart. Aeolus will never have to worry about demigods again."

Jason feels as if Khione's cold fingers are on his neck again, but it isn't her — it's just the feeling that Boreas is right. That sense of wrongness which had bothered Jason since he got to Camp Half-Blood, and Chiron's comment about his arrival being disastrous — Boreas knew what they meant.

"I don't suppose you could explain?" Jason asks.

"Oh, perish the thought! It is not for me to interfere in Hera's plan. No wonder she took your memory." Boreas chuckles, apparently still having a great time imagining demigods tearing each other apart. "You know, I have a reputation as a helpful wind god. Unlike my brethren, I've been known to fall in love with mortals. Why, my sons Zethes and Calais started as demigods —"

"Which explains why they are idiots," Khione growls.

"Stop it!" Zethes snaps back. "Just because you were born a full goddess —"

"Both of you, freeze," Boreas orders. Apparently, that word carries a lot of weight in the household, because the two siblings go absolutely still. "Now, as I was saying, I have a good reputation, but it is rare that Boreas plays an important role in the affairs of gods. I sit here in my palace, at the edge of civilization, and so rarely have amusements. Why, even that fool Notus, the South Wind, gets spring break in Cancun. What do I get? A winter festival with naked Quebecois rolling around in the snow!"

"I like the winter festival," Zethes mutters.

"My point," Boreas snaps, "is that I now have a chance to be the center. Oh, yes, I will let you go on this quest. You will find your storm spirits in the windy city, of course. Chicago —"

"Father!" Khione protests.

Boreas ignores his daughter. "If you can capture the winds, you may be able to gain safe entrance to the court of Aeolus. If by some miracle you succeed, be sure to tell him you captured the winds on my orders."

"Okay, sure," Jason says. "So Chicago is where we'll find this lady who's controlling the winds? She's the one who's trapped Hera?"

"Ah." Boreas grins. "Those are two different questions, son of Jupiter."

Jupiter, Jason notices. Before, he called me son of Zeus.

"The one who controls the winds," Boreas continues, "yes, you will find her in Chicago. But she is only a servant — a servant who is very likely to destroy you. If you succeed against her and take the winds, then you may go to Aeolus. Only he has knowledge of all the winds on the earth. All secrets come to his fortress eventually. If anyone can tell you where Hera is imprisoned, it is Aeolus. As for who you will meet when you finally find Hera's cage — truly, if I told you that, you would beg me to freeze you."

"Father," Khione protests, "you can't simply let them —"

"I can do what I like," he says, his voice hardening. "I am still master here, am I not?"

The way Boreas glares at his daughter, it was obvious they had some ongoing argument.

Khione's eyes flash with anger, but she clenches her teeth. "As you wish, Father."

"Now go, demigods," Boreas says, "before I change my mind. Zethes, escort them out safely."

They all bow, and the god of the North Wind dissolves into mist.

. . .

Back in the entry hall, Cal and Leo are waiting for them. Leo looks cold but unharmed. He'd even gotten cleaned up, and his clothes look newly washed, like he'd used the hotel's valet service. Festus the Dragon is back in normal form, snorting fire over his scales to keep himself defrosted.

As Khione led them down the stairs, (Y/n) notices that Leo's eyes follow the ice princess. Leo started combing his hair back with his hands. Uh-oh, (Y/n) thinks. She makes a mental note to warn Leo about the snow goddess later. She was not someone to get a crush on.

At the bottom step, Khione turns to Piper. "You have fooled my father, girl. But you have not fooled me. We are not done. And you, (Y/n) Jackson, I will see you as a statue in the throne room soon enough."

"Boreas is right," (Y/n) says. "You're a spoiled kid. See you around, ice princess."

Khione's eyes flare pure white. For once, she seems at a loss for words. She storms back up the stairs — literally. Hallway up, she turns into a blizzard and disappears.

"Be careful," Zethes warns. "She never forgets an insult."

Cal grunts in agreement. "Bad sister."

"She's the goddess of snow," Jason says. "What's she going to do, throw snowballs at us?" But as he says it, Jason has a feeling Khione could do a whole lot worse.

Leo looks devastated. "What happened up there? You made her mad? Is she mad at me too? Guys, that was my prom date!"

"We'll explain later," Piper promises, but when she glances at Jason, he realizes she expected him to explain.

What had happened up there? Jason isn't sure. Boreas had turned into Aquilon, his Roman form, as if Jason's presence caused him to go schizophrenic.

The idea that Jason had been sent to Camp Half-Blood seemed to amuse the god, but Boreas/Aquilon hadn't let them go out of kindness. Cruel excitement had danced in his eyes, as if he'd just placed a bet on a dogfight.

You will tear each other apart, the king had said with delight. Aeolus will never have to worry about demigods again.

Jason looks away from Piper, trying not to show how unnerved he is. "Yeah," he agrees, "we'll explain later."

"Be careful, pretty girl," Zethes says. "The winds between here and Chicago are bad-tempered. Many other evil things are stirring. I am sorry you will not be staying. You would make a lovely ice statue, in which I could check my reflection."

"Thanks," Piper says. "But I'd sooner play hockey with Cal."

"Hockey?" Cal's eyes light up.

"Joking," Piper says quickly. "And the storm winds aren't our worst problem, are they?"

"Oh, no," Zethes agrees. "Something else. Something worse."

"Worse," Cal echoes.

"Can you tell me?" Piper gives them a smile.

This time, the charm doesn't work. The purple-winged Boreads shake their heads in unison. The hangar doors open onto a freezing starry night, and Festus the Dragon stomps his feet, anxious to fly.

"Ask Aeolus what is worse," Zethes says darkly. "He knows. Good luck."

He almost sounds like he cares what happened to them, even though a few minutes ago he'd wanted to make Piper into an ice sculpture.

Cal pats Leo on the shoulder. "Don't get destroyed," he says, which was probably the longest sentence he'd ever attempted. "Next time—hockey. Pizza."

"Come on, guys." Jason stares out at the dark. He is anxious to get out of that cold penthouse, but he has a feeling it was the most hospitable place they'd see for a while. "Let's go to Chicago and try not to get destroyed."

. . .

Piper doesn't relax until the glow of Quebec City fades behind them.

"You were amazing," (Y/n) tells her.

The compliment should've made Piper's day, but all she can think about is the trouble ahead. Evil things are stirring, Zethes had warned them. She knew that firsthand. The closer they get to the solstice, the less time Piper had to make her decision.

She tells (Y/n) in French: "If you knew the truth about me, you wouldn't think I was so amazing."

"What'd you say?" (Y/n) asks.

"I said I only talked to Boreas. It wasn't so amazing." Piper doesn't turn to look at her, but she can imagine the daughter of Poseidon smiling.

"Hey," she says. "You saved me from joining Khione's subzero hero collection. I owe you one."

That's definitely the easy part, Piper thinks. There was no way Piper would've let that witch keep (Y/n), and then she takes a moment to wonder where the strong feelings had come from. The night before, she'd been worried about her relationship with Jason, but now she was protecting (Y/n).

Piper is lost in her thoughts, and she starts when Jason passes her back a sandwich – from Leo. The son of Hephaestus had been quiet ever since they'd told him what had happened in the throne room. "I still can't believe Khione," he says. "She looked so nice."

"Trust me, man," (Y/n) says. "Snow may be pretty, but up close, it's cold and nasty. We'll find you a better prom date."

Piper smiles, but Leo doesn't look pleased. He hadn't said much about his time in the palace, or why the Boreads had singled him out for smelling like fire. Piper gets the feeling he's hiding something. Whatever it is, his mood seemed to be affecting Festus, who grumbles and steams as he tries to keep himself warm in the cold Canadian air. Happy the Dragon was not so happy.

They eat their sandwiches as they fly. Piper has no idea how Leo had stocked up on supplies, but he'd even remembered to bring veggie rations for her. The cheese and avocado sandwich was awesome.

Nobody talks. Whatever they might find in Chicago, they all know Boreas had only let them go because he figured they were already on a suicide mission.

The moon rises and the stars turn overhead. Piper's eyes start to feel heavy. The encounter with Boreas and his children had scared her more than she wanted to admit. Now that she has a full stomach, her adrenaline is fading.

Suck it up, cupcake! Coach Hedge would've yelled at her. Don't be a wimp!

Piper had been thinking about the coach ever since Boreas had mentioned that he was still alive. She'd never liked Hedge, but he'd leaped off a cliff to save Leo, and he'd sacrificed himself to protect them on the skywalk. She now realizes that all the times at school the coach had pushed her, yelled at her to run faster or do more push-ups, or even when he'd turned his back and let her fight her own battles with the mean girls, the old goat man had been trying to help her in his own irritating way – trying to prepare he for life as a demigod.

On the skywalk, Dylan the storm spirit had said something about the coach, too: how he'd been retired to Wilderness School because he was getting too old, like it was some sort of punishment. Piper wonders what that was about, and if it explained why the coach was always so grumpy. Whatever the truth, now that Piper knows Hedge was alive, she has a strong compulsion to save him.

Don't get ahead of yourself, she chides. You've got bigger problems. This trip won't have a happy ending. She's a traitor, just like Silena Beauregard. It was only a matter of time before her friends found out.

She looks up at the stars and thinks about a night long ago when she and her dad had camped out in front of Grandpa Tom's house. Grandpa Tom had died years before, but Dad had kept his house in Oklahoma because it was where he grew up.

Piper blinks, shaking herself out of the memory. She realizes she'd been falling asleep on the dragon's back. How could Dad pretend to be so many things he isn't? Trying to do that now was tearing Piper apart.

Maybe she could pretend for a little while longer. She could dream of a way of finding a way to save her father without betraying her friends — even if right now a happy ending seems about as likely as magic hedgehogs.

Piper sleepily leans back against (Y/n)'s chest. The daughter of Poseidon doesn't object, and Piper closes her eyes, drifting off to sleep.

. . .

Piper tumbles through the sky. Far below, she sees city lights glimmering in the early dawn, and several hundred yards away, the body of the bronze dragon spinning out of control, its wings limp, fire flickering in its mouth like a wired lightbulb.

A body shoots past her — Leo, screaming and frantically grabbing at the clouds. "Not coooooool!"

She tries to call out him, but he is already too far below.

Somewhere above her, Jason yells, "Piper, level out! Extend your arms and legs!"

It was hard to control her fear, but she does what he said and regains some balance. She falls spread-eagle like a skydiver, the wind underneath her like a solid block of ice. Then Jason is there, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"We have to get (Y/n) and Leo!" she shouts.

Their fall slows as Jason controls the winds, but they still lurch up and down like the winds didn't want to cooperate.

"Gonna get rough," Jason warns. "Hold on!"

And then, thump! They slam into another warm body – Leo, still wriggling and cursing.

"Stop fighting!" Jason says. "It's me!"

"My dragon!" Leo yells. "You gotta save Festus!

Jason's already struggling to keep the three of them aloft, and Piper knows there is no way he could help a fifty-ton metal dragon.

There is a splash below them in the nearby lake, and then there's an explosion. A fireball rolls into the sky from behind a warehouse complex.

Jason's face reddens with strain as he tries to maintain an air cushion beneath them, all the while looking for (Y/n) below them. Rather than free-falling, intermittent slow-downs are the best that Jason can manage. It feels to Piper as though they were bouncing down a giant staircase, a hundred feet at a time.

As they wobble and zigzag, Piper can make out details of the factory complex below – warehouses, smokestacks, barbed wire fences, parking lots lined with snow-covered vehicles, and a lake. They are still high enough so that hitting the ground would flatten them into roadkill – or skykill – when Jason groans, "I can't –"

And they drop like stones.

They hit the roof of the largest warehouse and crash through into darkness.

Unfortunately, Piper tries to land on her feet. Her feet didn't like that. Pain flares in her left ankle as she crumples against a cold metal surface.

For a few seconds, she isn't conscious of anything but pain – pain so bad that her ears ring and her vision goes red.

Then she hears Jason's voice somewhere below, echoing through the building. "Piper! (Y/n)!"

"Ow, bro!" Leo groans. "That's my back! I'm not a sofa! Piper, where'd you go? (Y/n)?"

"Here," Piper manages, and she realizes she can't hear (Y/n)'s response. She hears shuffling and grunting, and then feet pounding on metal stairs.

Word Count: 6876 words

Taglist: @camaddison @steinfellds @p-taryn-dactyl @oculusalien @pink-widows @unlikelysublimekryptonite @decadentrebelkitten @eevil-empress @anteroz @mag-mfm @26randomness @cair-paravel-narniaia @hayhaythegaygay

#piper mclean x female reader #piper mclean x fem reader #lesbian piper mclean #piper mclean x reader #lesbian piper #percy jackson x sister reader

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abyssal-ali · 2 years

Text

Yet Forgives the Butcher's Knife

It's finally here! Yet Forgives the Butcher's Knife is my submission for the Jaysteph Weekend 2022, filling the prompts "Do I Want to Know?", College, and the chaotic bonus the Trifecta of Trouble.

Disclaimer: This follows Canon events up to a point, but since DC has the inability to stick to one timeline or version of events without retconning it, I'm taking liberties with some plot points.

(Canon-complicit to a point)

Rating: T TW: non-graphic talk about death/torture

(Read the teaser first as the first scene picks up directly from there :))

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

“Okay, J. Are you trying to be a vigilante? I gotta warn you, it's brutal. It's actually why I'm here. My dad's a D-list rogue, Cluemaster, and I hated how he ruined my mom's and my life, so I became Spoiler, spoiling his plans. Batman didn't like me running around as a tween without his approval, even though I was older than, like, all the Robins.

“Anyways, I ignored him, he kinda accepted I was there to stay, I had a couple months internship with as Robin before he fired me, and I went back to being Spoiler, started a gang war by accident, got caught by an A-list rogue and tortured...I flatlined in Leslie's OR and she faked my permanent death and moved us here to teach Bats a lesson about his kids or something.

“So, now you know Steph Brown,” Steph laughed easily.

“Wow, that's, um, a lot to process. Are you okay? Seeing a therapist or something? That sounds like a trip.”

“Oh yeah, it was. I'm okay-ish now...I mean, your black helmet isn't really helping my PTSD, but they're pretty common and it's not blatantly skull-like so...I'm okay.”

“You got caught by Black Mask?”J's jaw dropped, though Steph couldn't see it. “And survi-I mean...”

Steph grinned at J's faux pas. “It's fine, I have dark humour—being a Gothamite, and from the Narrows at that, it's kinda a prerequisite.”

“You're a Narrows kid? You hide the accent well,” J commented in surprise.

“Thanks? You know another Narrows kid or somethin'?”

“Wasn't it speculated that Robin 2 was from the Narrows?” Jason deflected, hoping Steph would bite.

“Yeah, he was my favourite. Street kid, Narrows like me—we might even have been neighbours!--fought smart but dirty, and he understood us in a way Bats and the first Robin didn't...he cared about us, y'know? The others cared more about stopping crime than the victims—I mean, obviously the crime needed to stop so there wouldn't be more victims, but Robin 2 was one of us and could connect with us. Batman and Nightwing are strangers, practically. Once I was on my way home from stalking my dad and some creep was trailing me. I could tell, but Robin swung down and took 'im out before I was in danger, and then he followed me home...it was so sweet. I always had the biggest crush on him...I was so sad when I heard he died. He was one of ours, one of us...sometimes I wonder what he'd be like if he was alive.”

With a sigh Steph shook off the melancholy and turned to J. “Sorry for the infodump. So, J, thanks you for the assist. And don't become a vigilante for fun.”

“I won't. Thanks for livening my evening. I liked your right hook...but saw your form was off on a couple moves. Did Batman not train you? I thought all his little birdies had a Ph.D in karate or somethin'...”

“Well, I was never a true Robin. Barely got any training from the big guy. He didn't even let me know anyone's ID or anythin' cool—basically all I got was the suit and a ton of lectures, more than Spoiler ever got. What a prick,” she muttered.

“He sounds like a huge prick,” agreed J. “If you'd like...I could improve your skills a bit? I've had a few professional trainers myself...”

“Sure, I'd love to get some formal training for once! When and where?”

“I have a building in town. Are you free tomorrow?”

“Yeah, all day.”

“Be ready at 9 a.m., then. Night, Doll!” J left her on Leslie's doorstep and Steph went in to Leslie's worried questioning.

At 9:00 sharp J pulled up on a black motorcycle. Steph was waiting with a duffel and hopped on, driving to a nondescript warehouse-style building 15 minutes away from Leslie's. J walked to the door and went through fingerprint, retinal, and password locks. Finally J and Steph walked in to see an enormous gym, with mats, weights, ropes, a shooting range, archery range, pool, and various intense workout equipment.

J showed Steph to the bathroom and she changed into a tanktop and shorts before joining him in warmup stretches on the mats. “You're flexible,” J noted.

“Thanks— I took gymnastics lessons for 3 years before my dad got worse. I liked it and kept doing what I could...and that was one thing Batman helped with.”

For the next month J drastically improved Steph's form, skills, and stamina.

“How do you know all these skills? Do I want to know?” asked Steph one day during a water break.

“Can you keep a secret?” J asked, leaning in. Steph nodded. “I'm the second Robin.”

Steph stared at him, then started laughing. “Fine, then, keep your secrets.”

J stared back. “Fine. My mom has been training me for the past 3 years with various martial arts forms and weapons and some other fun stuff, like poisons and bombs and strategy. Happy?”

“You're serious,” Steph said flatly.

“Yes!”

“Huh. So...you're a ninja-in-training?”

“I am a ninja, but sure. I was just here to take care of a couple things for my mom when I met you.”

“You...stayed...here? For me?”

J nodded. “I really like you, Steph. A lot.”

“You like me too?”

J blinked. “You like me?”

Steph nodded emphatically. “Even if i still don't know if you're a 10 or not with that dramatic mask you always wear,” she joked.

“Will you go on a proper date with me, Stephanie Brown?”

“No.” J's face fell, but Steph continued, “I will join you in a spar and I will kick your butt one day.” She sat up and moved to the mats again. J laughed, “You're perfect.”

After their training session J walked Steph home as he always did. In sight of Leslie's, J paused and Steph turned to see why. He took her hand and took a breath. “My name is Jason. Jason al Ghul.”

Stephanie smiled at him. “Thank you for telling me, Jason. Jason...I like it. It suits you.”

~♡~

The next morning before their warm up began, Jason opened up to Steph. “Do you have time to hear my life story? It's depressing, at least for a non-Gothamite.”

“I'll always listen,” Steph said softly, taking his hands in hers. It always seemed to ground him and lately he'd started to do it unconsciously. Jason smiled at her and began.

“I'm a street kid from Crime Alley. My dad was a two-bit goon and my mom had a heroin addiction since she had cancer. She died when I was 8 and my dad was...gone, so I hit the streets. When I was 12, I was adopted by a wealthy man and I was actually safe—he was one of the few good ones. Sometimes we'd go back to Crime Alley to help my friends or the street kids. I had an older brother, but he was gone in Blüd most of the time. He didn't like me too much at first because our dad “replaced” him with me, but we'd started to get closer when he realized he was being a Dick.” Jason smiled at some joke Steph didn't get yet, then continued. “When I was 15, my dad and I got in a fight and I was grounded...I found my bio mom in Ethiopia and flew there to meet her. I thought she was blackmailed by Joker and tried to get her out, but she...she sold me out to him and smoked a cigarette as she watched him beat me half to death. Then he tied her up and left us in the warehouse with a bomb...I managed to get my mom free but I was caught in the explosion. I'm strong considering I'm from Crime Alley and the beating and bomb didn't finish me off," Jason smirked at that absolutely devastating tidbit. “The smoke and dust inhalation got me. I woke up in my coffin 6 feet underground and dug myself out with my belt buckle and left my fingernails in the dirt there. I wandered around, catatonic and relying on muscle memory for a few months until I started beating up some of my third mom's men and she came to see what the fuss was about. When my catatonia didn't lift, she put me in a pool of magic life juice, which healed me and upgraded my trauma to insanity and bloodlust. Once the Pit Madness settled, Mom sent me around the world, training with masters to become the best.

“I know it was partly to stall me, because my dad is her baby daddy and she doesn't want him dead, while I did. He never killed the Joker for me, for everyone else's safety, and I almost killed him and my brothers. Thankfully the Madness subsided, and while I'm still mad he didn't kill Joker, I'm not going to kill him over it. He won't kill, so I'll leave him alone and do it myself. I need a moniker for when I make the statement that I'm a better man than him, and since you don't like my black helmet, I'm thinking of stealing the clown's old name as a last laugh. So, could you stand a red helmet?”

Steph blinked. “Wow, your life is sadder than mine. Yeah, a red helmet wouldn't bother me at all. You look good in red, anyways.” She understood deflection very well, and let Jason steer the conversation away from what he'd just unloaded.

“Then meet the Red Hood,” Jason bowed to Steph and she giggled.

“Your story sounds kinda familiar, though.”

Jason removed the domino mask he normally wore around Steph (since he didn't wear the helmet around her). “You weren't kidding?” she gaped. “ You are Robin 2...wait, you look familiar...”

“My headstone says Jason Peter Todd, if that helps,” offered Jason.

“If Jason Todd was Robin 2, then Robin 1 has to be Dick Grayson, which means...” Steph's eyes grew larger. “Brucie Wayne, Ph. D in idiocy, is Batman?!”

“Got it in one, Doll,” Jason winked.

“That makes so much sense,” moaned Steph. “No wonder he never told me his name!”

“Your friend Robin 3 is Tim Drake, Bruce's newest adoptee. Looks like Drake finally died and B got custody again.”

“Wait,” interrupted Steph. “Why did Bruce adopt you? You met him as Batman, right? Well he caught me and never adopted me...how unfair!”

“You don't have black hair, Blondie,” Jason teased. “Step 1: dye your hair black. Step 2: Be a smart aleck and make Batman laugh because you stole the Batmobile's tires. Step 3: Reverse psychology: Hit 'im with your tire iron and run. Be reluctantly caught and thus adopted when he finds out you're a homeless orphan.”

Steph wheezed with laughter. “Of course you stole the Batmobile's tires! Oh man, the look on B-man's face must've been legendary!”

Jason grinned proudly. “At the time I was scared to death, but looking back, it was pretty funny....So, what'm I like, since I am alive?”

She buried her face in her hands. “Ughh, why? I can't believe I rhapsodized about you to you! Oh, kill me now. And I told you I had a crush on you...whyyyy?!” she wailed dramatically and Jason chuckled at her expense, the brat. Steph glared at him through her fingers.

“Sorry, I kinda like you, so Imma have to pass on the offer to murder you.”

“Stoppp,” she blushed, glad she was already hiding her face from him.

~♡~

This is a shorter chapter because my two sentences referencing tomorrow's prompt come directly after this 😆

Hope you enjoyed and feel free to Nicely leave constructive criticism!!

@jaystephevents @demonandangeltwins

#Jaystephweekend2022 #Jaysteph weekend #Jaysteph #Jason Todd #Stephanie brown #Ayftbk #And yet forgives the butchers knife #ali writes #Fic

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