Chapter Text
Jason gets back the following Monday.
While not a morning person, Thalia is awake bright and early at 6AM—or likely never went to sleep. She comes into the kitchen when she hears him cleaning and hugs him. “You have a good time at Halfblood?”
No. “It was okay.” Jason hugs her back. He catches sight of glitter on her cheek. “Did you have a fun weekend?”
There’s a way her grin glows. Thalia crosses her arms. “Nico, Rey, and I went to karaoke. We had a blast.”
At the mention of Nico, Jason’s chest warms for his sister. “Really? You two talked?”
“Yeah—it was good. You’ll have to come with us next time—we haven’t put you behind a mic yet.” Thalia winks and nudges him playfully. She straightens out his rain jacket while he’s in the middle of washing dishes, then inspects him closely. “Did…you get enough rest while you were at Halfblood?”
Not really. “Enough,” Jason parrots. Before he can help himself, he yawns.
“I can write you a note, baby brother,” she says—then she makes a face. “Not that you really need a note if you don’t want to go to school. But that’s my two cents.”
“No, I’m okay,” Jason says—and he shakes his head insistently this time. “I. We’re picking our partners in chemistry today. I don’t want to get last pick.”
Thalia looks reluctant, and Jason almost doesn’t blame her. Instead, she ceases, and claps both hands on his shoulders. “Okay. Just call me if you want to ditch, Jace.”
“Okay.” With that, Jason is out the door.
He doesn’t normally walk to school. Jason favors shadowtraveling for more than one reason—but decides to use the time for his thoughts. He thinks back to his somber conversation with Grover, and the heavy realization that…he may never get over Luke, no matter how much he wants better.
Him not being there yet may mean never at all.
And that…
Sucks.
“Oh—Jason.”
“What? Oof—” Jason knocks into a trashcan as he turns a corner—then looks up to find a curious Nico.
Nico’s dressed in different clothes from the other night. A nice, Sherpa-lined denim jacket against the October chill, well-fitted pants, and white shoes—then a shirt with a pokemon that Jason can’t put his finger on. There’s a smudge of black beneath his eyes—almost faint, but they only accentuate the blue of his eyes.
Plenty handsome, Jason had told Grover.
“Are you waiting on Bianca?” Nico asks. “She flew.”
“Oh—no.” It’s only then that Jason realizes he wandered in the opposite direction of school. The di Angelo residence, to be exact. “I…guess I got turned around. Are. Are you running late?”
Nico shakes his head and curls his hands over his backpack. A skull ring rests on his finger—one that Jason recognizes from Thalia’s jewelry box. His eyes are at the sky. “No. I figured I’d walk to school today and enjoy the rain.”
Oh. “Oh.”
“What about you?” Nico asks, and he looks to Jason again. “Don’t you normally shadowtravel?”
“Normally. But.” Jason fumbles into a smile and curls his hands into his backpack. “Guess the rain was too hard to pass up for me, too.”
“Oh,” Nico says.
Um. “Do…you want to walk together?” Jason asks tentatively.
Nico peers back at him again, his eyes looking even more striking than before. Then, just as thoughtfully, he nods. “Sure. Yeah. That’s not a bad idea.”
The walk isn’t normally a long one. Normally fifteen minutes or so—eight, if Jason is running his normal trail—but it uncomfortably drags. Nico and he are both silent past the first block, simply letting the rain and rolling thunder echo instead.
“I heard you and Thalia talked,” Jason interjects, when it becomes a tad too uncomfortable. “She told me you two had a lot of fun this weekend.”
Nico looks back, and he thoughtfully twists the ring on his finger. There’s a warmth to his smile as his lips lift—one that completes the look Thalia gave Jason this morning. “Yeah. It was a much-needed break, from…”
He trails off, voice growing stiff.
“I’m glad,” Jason says. He rubs his chest awkwardly, trying to find something else to say, but his mind blanks. He’s just happy that Thalia and Nico can speak to each other again.
“What about you?” Nico redirects. “Did—well—”
He fumbles over his words, demeanor twisting in a way Jason’s not used to.
“Was Camp Halfblood nice to you this time?” Nico lands on finally. His tone reeks with displeasure—and if Jason wasn’t so stunned, he’d laugh.
The tiniest chortle makes it past his lips, and Jason clasps a hand over his mouth. “Sorry.”
Nico’s face glows adorably pink, and he tucks his hands in his pockets. “I…might have been a little worried.”
“I…really appreciate that, Nico.” There’s a gravity to Jason’s words. Despite his worries with Grover, something about Nico’s admission makes Jason’s chest flutter. He recalls the events of the weekend, his hands tight over the straps of his backpack.
His conversation with Mr. D. Then his conversation with Grover. The rest of the weekend was…strange.
“Frank didn’t think it’d be good for me to see too many kids,” Jason admits—and he fights the feeling of embarrassment. “He really picked them up over the summer. A lot of them preferred to see him.”
To his surprise, Nico looks relieved. “So, they didn’t spread you thin.”
“Not really. I saw Mr. D—Dionysus—about. Well, me.” Jason begins to stroke his hands—then stops when he notices. Heat glows in his cheeks, and he nervously fiddles with his backpack straps again. “He…compared me to wine and told me I was boring.”
He ambles forward a few steps, only to realize Nico has stopped.
Nico stares at him with surprising irritation. “The god that was supposed to help you with your mental health said you were boring?”
“Um. Yeah.”
Nico looks even more annoyed. “The one that dumped you with the satyrs?”
“Actually—that’s another thing. My brother Grover was there.”
This time, Nico doesn’t look like he knows what to do with that information.
“Grover is—”
“The one that taught you how to gallop.”
Jason stares. Nico stares back. And—slowly, neither of them looks tense. Jason’s lips stretch into a smile, and he laughs. It’s only egged on when he notices Nico snickering, too. “Yeah, that’s the one. I hadn’t seen him since after the first war. We ended up hanging out with each other.”
“That’s…good,” Nico remarks tentatively. “What did you guys end up doing?”
Brutally talk about Jason’s heart and feelings. “Um—” About Nico. And Luke. “Well—not very much. It was raining pretty badly over there.”
They stop short of the school entrance, where other students are already filing in. Jason sees Bianca off with her friends, and Reyna in the distance.
“Wait,” Nico says. To Jason’s surprise, however, Nico’s demeanor shifts. His eyebrows furrow together, lips curling into a frown. “It rained in Long Island? Like this?”
“Um. Yeah, I guess.” Jason stares up at the sky curiously. The rain is steady—but nowhere near an angered rage from a month ago. “Hazel said it’s been like that a while.”
“A while,” Nico repeats. Ire grows in his voice. “Did she say how the weather looked in Vancouver?”
Jason mulls over Nico’s words quizzically, then shakes his head. “No, I didn’t think to ask. But she didn’t—”
“I’ll need to ask her then,” Nico cuts in abruptly. He pulls away from Jason, stroking his chin.
“Oh,” Jason says—“I was thinking we could go to art class—”
“Sorry, Jason.” Nico changes course, suddenly yards away. He stops short of Bianca’s group of friends and looks over his shoulder with an apologetic look. “Bianca—”
“—together,” Jason finishes to no one.
Nico disappears into the school, yanking at his sister’s arm, and leaving Jason by himself.
*
Nico doesn’t show up to class. They hadn’t paired up—not in a long time—but based on Nico’s reaction this morning, Jason can’t help growing worried. Professor Kronk doesn’t address it—he just throws them into the next art project. Nico skips out on their gym class too—and while Jason has tried not to draw too much attention by staring at Praetor di Angelo, son of Juno, he can’t keep from looking down the locker room hall, trying to find Nico.
The rain continues outside—more of a nuisance than a light drizzle, but nothing painful. Jason’s attention redirects to the window each time there’s a rumble of thunder or a slight patter against the window.
Bianca’s missing from their lunch period. Her friends carry on without her.
“Is Nico okay?” Jason tries to ask Reyna during their history class.
Reyna looks startled—likely because Jason brings the son of Juno up—but they never get to finish the conversation. Their teacher begins talking about the Trojan War, and class is spent…doing something. Jason spends the entire hour racking his brain over what could make Nico so annoyed and doesn’t get the chance to ask Reyna before they part ways for their next class.
By the end of the day during chemistry, Jason doesn’t have the energy to protest when his teacher assigns his lab partner.
He’s just lost in the thought of how nice Nico looked today, hair brushing his cheekbones in gentle strokes, with a smile that Jason sorely missed. Talking about Mr. D and Grover was—a mess, sure—but it never felt hard when it was with Nico.
Jason deserved to be with someone like Nico, he’d decided. He’s confident. He’s just—he’s not there yet. Not freed from the emotional cage of Luke when Nico deserves so much.
It just doesn’t keep Jason from worrying.
He finally catches them—Reyna, Bianca, and Nico—right outside of the school when classes end. There’s a dismal air between all of them. Reyna has her arms firmly crossed over her chest. Bianca holds a frown—one that Jason hasn’t seen since before the first war, and Nico has his hair tied back.
“…should probably leave tonight,” Bianca says. She stops as Jason approaches. “Jace—hi.”
Nico and Reyna both meet his gaze, neither looking particularly happy.
“Is everything okay?” Jason asks. The question floods with his own worry—which festered over the course of the day.
Reyna and Bianca immediately default to Nico, who doesn’t bat an eye. Nico raises his gaze upward and shakes his head.
“No,” he says. “It’s this rain. Normally a couple of days is fine, but it’s been going on for weeks. A whole month.”
“Hazel said she wouldn’t put it past Zeus to let it drizzle a little longer,” Jason says—which Nico doesn’t look any happier about.
“I called Hazel during gym class,” Nico explains. “It’s been raining in Vancouver and Long Island. She says she’s lost track of how long it’s been storming. If it was just for a week I wouldn’t mind, but—”
“Something must’ve happened with Papa,” Bianca concludes. Her eyebrows knot together.
“The sperm donor must have done something stupid,” Nico corrects, his voice growing with irritation. “I suspect that if we went anywhere in any direction that it would be storming.”
“Okay,” Jason says. “So, what do we do?”
The trio in front of him falls dead silent.
Nico raises his head, one eyebrow cocked in the air and his lips suddenly marred by a frown. “We do nothing. You’re retired.”
Jason’s thought process halts, flummoxed. “Wait—"
“Bianca and I need to meet with Hazel. We’re going to fly to Vancouver. The three of us will start our quest from there.” Nico turns his head to his co-praetor for confirmation. Reyna nods her head in agreement.
Jason’s heart suddenly drops like a rock in his stomach. His hands tighten over the straps of his backpack, while he tries to catch up with the conversation. “Wait—Nico—you’re going on a quest?”
“With my sisters, yeah.” Nico nods and looks back to Bianca. “I had to go around and clear it with all of our teachers.”
“I—” Jason sputters. “Don’t you need praetor approval for that?”
Both Nico and Reyna stare back at him, evidently confused.
“Jason,” Nico says slowly. “I am a praetor.”
“Right.” Heat burns in Jason’s cheeks, but he racks his brain. He touches the back of his neck, which suddenly flairs with his pulse. “But—I mean—are you sure?”
“Confident that my sperm donor is making life harder for the rest of us?” Nico retorts. His aggravation is clear for the god above.
“Okay,” Jason continues, and he racks his brain again. “Well—I. I—let me go with you then. You’ll get to Vancouver faster if I shadowtravel you.”
The weight of Nico’s gaze is disarming. He narrows his blue eyes—the ones that entranced Jason this morning—and he seems to stand firmer. Nico repeats—“No, because you’re retired.”
Jason’s at a loss. His head spins. “But—”
“Jace,” Bianca interjects. She places a hand on his shoulder, her own eyebrows pinching with worry. “No offense, but you don’t have the best rapport with our dad—”
“Sperm donor,” Nico cuts in.
“—anyway,” Bianca finishes. A grimace curls against her lips. “Nico’s right. Even if you were still fighting, it’s probably better that you sit this one out.”
“But I can fight,” Jason protests, the pink creeping up his cheeks in a violent shame, “I’m not—I mean—”
“You’re retired,” Nico repeats, his voice stern. “You don’t fight—”
“Nico,” Jason persists. He raises his voice louder than he intends.
They both halt when they come to that realization and stare at each other.
Nico blinks at Jason, bewildered. He turns to Reyna and Bianca, both also taken aback by the spike in Jason’s voice. “Give us a second.”
“I—” Jason begins to protest, but he shuts up the moment Nico drags him away by the wrist. There’s a lingering flutter as Nico’s hands graze his skin—then they’re nestled in the corner of the school, tucked away with Jason’s panic and Nico’s frown.
“You don’t need to do this,” Nico says.
Jason stares at Nico in disbelief. “You don’t need to do this. Nico—”
“The gods,” Nico continues, as though Jason never interjected, “including my dad—especially my dad—have taken a sick pleasure of throwing you around two wars since you were born. This quest isn’t for you.”
“But—” A lump swells in Jason’s throat, and he’s unhappy. “Nico, I can fight, I—”
“You gave up fighting,” Nico corrects, and his eyes narrow threateningly. “I get that you have this sense of duty, Jason, but I’m not letting you near this quest. I’m not letting you fight again.”
“But—I—” Jason stops. His stomach is suddenly in knots, with nothing making it past his mouth other than the sudden desire to vomit.
“Grace.” At that moment, Mike Kahale appears. “You ready for our study date?”
At the mention of study date, Jason’s skin crawls. His entire body tenses—and he watches the sudden disconnect in Nico’s eyes. Nico pulls his hand away from Jason’s own, leaving a cruel sting of loneliness.
He eyes Mike Kahale bitterly, and Jason swallows hard.
“That’s not—“ Jason sputters. “—I mean, we’re not—“
“Michael,” Nico addresses wryly. “A few more minutes. Then you can have Jason. Sound good?”
Once more, Jason is caught in the middle watching Nico stand ground with a demigod twice his size.
Mike arches an eyebrow, amused, and takes a step back. “Alright. Hope you brainstormed some ideas for chem, Jason.”
Right.
As Mike busies himself doing…something Jason couldn’t care less about, Jason turns back to Nico, cheeks red with even more shame.
“We’re just chem partners right now,” Jason explains quickly. “He and I—it’s not that kind of date—“
“Jason.” Nico’s gaze is hard, tone poignant. There’s a crease at his nose as his face scrunches, and he sighs softly. “We’ve…already had this conversation. I’m not—”
He ceases, his own cheeks blistering pink and jaw tight.
“You and I aren’t dating,” Nico concludes. “You already turned me down, so you don’t owe me anything. And. Mike is. Nice, I guess.”
“But I don’t—” Jason pauses. Nico is already averting his gaze. The words are tight, as Jason finally finds them. Shaken. “I don’t want to hurt you again.”
Nico looks reluctant at the statement. He crosses his arms over his chest, fingers twitching. “I. Just do me the favor of sitting this one out. I want you safe. Okay?”
No, absolutely positively not—“Okay,” Jason says. The word aches in his throat.
“Okay,” Nico repeats. He stands straighter and turns towards Reyna and Bianca. “Bianca and I need to prepare. There’s no telling what—”
“Wait.” Jason snatches him quickly by the hand.
The gestures startles them both. There’s a moment, where the gentle brush of Nico’s hand against Jason’s own halts his pulse. His eyes carry to Nico’s wrist bone—then the blue of Nico’s own irises, where the son of Juno stares back at him in confusion.
But…he…thumbs Nico’s palm as carefully as he did during the war—because he’s almost lost Nico once before.
Jason doesn’t want to let go of Nico’s pulse beneath his own—or let go of Nico at all.
“Yeah?” Nico asks—after who knows how long.
“I.” A lump swells in Jason’s throat. “I just.”
Jason’s mind just cycles into a vicious twister in his chest, where all he feels is his own helplessness.
He hugs Nico. Tightly. Jason throws the weight of his feelings into Nico, grasping what he can of his anxiety between his arms.
He feels Nico tense and stumble—but to Jason, he’s finally grounded.
“Jas—”
“Please,” Jason whispers, “please, please be careful.”
Nico relaxes into the embrace eventually. “I’ll…try my best, Jason.”
Jason nods inaudibly, relishing in the sound of Nico’s pulse. He’s reminded of the days that he used it as his beacon. Nico hugs him back—and it hits Jason how much he misses holding Nico like this. Knowing every inch of Nico, and just…Nico, in general.
There’s a calming scent that brushes his nose the further he buries himself into the nape of Nico’s neck.
“You smell nice,” Jason murmurs—though he can’t quite place the scent. Chamomile? Bergamot?
“Lavender,” Nico answers for him. There’s a shift in his tone. “It’s—Reyna’s, I. Well, I mean, I slept over—I.”
He pulls away with a glow to his cheeks. Nico doesn’t quite look up.
“I should go,” Nico says finally. There’s a distance in their embrace, leaving nothing but the echo of his hand against Jason’s.
Slowly, he makes his way back to Reyna and Bianca. Jason hates it.
*
Focusing on chemistry is hard. With each flip of a page, Jason’s thoughts go straight back to Nico. He’s mortified. Jason burns holes into his textbook as he taps his foot into the floor of Starbucks. He chews on his pencil, skimming through the words of his textbook without really learning.
Every time his fingers brush against the edge of the page, he thinks of Nico’s hand against his own. Nico’s embrace.
Nico, dying.
Jason breaks his pencil. He’s interrupted from his current quandary when Mike Kahale waves a hand in front of his face.
“Hungry?” Mike asks. “I could—”
“No thank you,” Jason cuts him off, nervous. “Are we almost done?”
Mike arches an eyebrow, looking mildly amused. “We just got here.”
“Oh.” Jason looks to the clock hanging above the entryway—where sure enough, they are only a quarter past five.
“Anyway,” Mike continues, “like I was saying—”
“I’m not—” Jason cuts the other demigod off, his ears glowing pink. “—I’m not interested.”
Mike stares back voicelessly. The son of Venus isn’t unattractive—far from it. There’s a warmth to his skin that hasn’t been dulled by the autumn rain. He has rich, chocolate eyes and well-maintained dark hair, combed in a way that accentuates his chiseled face. There isn’t any doubt who his mother is.
He's…just not Nico. Not Nico’s striking blue eyes or soft, lavender-scented hair—or anything like the curve of Nico’s mischievous smile.
And—that smile’s been out of Jason’s reach for a long time.
Could be longer, depending on how this quest goes.
Could be never again—
Mike shuts his textbook. He points into the air. “Are you doing this?”
Jason stares at the son of Venus in confusion. He follows Mike’s line of sight—where the lights are simultaneously flickering on-and-off to Jason’s own pulse.
“I—” Jason starts. He stares at them long enough to keep them from flickering. “Sorry. I didn’t—um. I’m just.”
“Nervous?” Mike asks. “Unfocused?”
Jason grimaces.
“Worried about Praetor di Angelo?” Mike guesses. “Worried he might die on this quest?”
SSSSSSST!
The lamp on their shatters.
Jason and Mike both jump at the sound—then Jason is scrambling to pick up the pieces of broken glass, apologizing.
“Sorry,” Jason starts, pushing glass into a napkin with his bare hand. “Sometimes—I just—when I’m nervous, I siphon light—it hasn’t happened in a while—”
“Grace,” Mike interjects, looking extra appalled. “You’re going to cut yourself.”
“Oh.” Jason stares down at his own hands, where bits of glass bury themselves in the creases of his fingers. He flexes his hands, and shards fall into his napkin. “No. It’s fine.”
Mike stares at him like he’s grown a second head. The stare only makes Jason more uncomfortable—especially after the death comment.
“Can I—” Jason stops and sucks in a breath. “May I be excused?”
He gets up from his seat and marches to the bathroom. Jason discards the shattered glass in the trashcan and locks the door behind him. He takes in a starch (retched) breath and cradles his head in his hand.
His chest hurts.
Every thought of Nico getting hurt on this quest—on their quest—runs through his head. He thinks back to after the Argo II, trying to get the Athena Parthenos back to New Rome—to every instance where Nico got hurt on his watch and nearly turned to nothing.
Jason thinks of when he held Nico—when the edges of Nico’s fingers faded with the strain of his powers. For how much Nico’s helped Jason, the calm of his pulse had almost gone away. Nico could’ve died on that quest—Nico could die on this quest—
And Jason’s breath hitches.
He stands to his feet, staring at the shadows at his feet. He needed to be there.
You’re retired, Nico reminded him.
Except—Jason could shadowtravel—he could get the sky siblings together faster than they would on their own—and just be there to protect Nico.
Hades—if the rain was the problem, Jason could just shadowtravel to Zeus and shake the God of Storms awake himself.
At that thought, the back of Jason’s neck tingles. He thinks of the bristling look worn by the King of the Gods—one that insisted Jason was far beneath Olympus.
There was nothing wrong with checking on Nico—Jason could lock onto the son of Juno’s steady pulse and just—go, like this morning. He sought Nico out when his heart’s been rattled far too long.
“Just,” Jason mutters under his breath, “one trip.”
I’m not letting you fight again, Nico said adamantly.
His ankle makes it through the portal before he decides it’s a terrible idea.
(Except maybe it isn’t?)
Jason resorts to the alternative. He reaches for a large shard of glass from his broken lightbulb, angles it towards the dim bathroom light, and turns on the sink. He fishes for a drachma and rattles off a name.
“Grover,” Jason greets immediately.
“Jace,” Grover greets with surprise. “What—”
“Nico went on a quest,” Jason interjects, his own voice obscure. His hands tremble his sides, and he cradles a fist in his hands.
“Oh—um,” Grover says. He blinks, evidently taken aback. “Okay, brother, how does—”
“I don’t want him to go on this quest,” Jason says. He paces the length of the bathroom, his voice trembling.
He takes a long breath, head still in his hands. Grover doesn’t respond right away. Instead his satyr brother digests the words.
“Don’t the Romans go on quests all the time?” Grover asks eventually. He strokes his goatee carefully. “From the way Percy explained it, the process is pretty rigid--they have veterans in almost every city--”
“That’s not—” Jason interrupts, not the slightest bit deterred by Grover’s reasoning. “That’s not the issue. Things. Things change, Grover.”
Things could go badly, like losing a scepter in the middle of the quest. Satyrs getting kidnapped--Nico getting kidnapped. Nico getting hurt.
“Yeah, buddy--you’re like the king of quests. That’s the worst part, waiting for people to come home. Trust me, I had plenty of these concerns when you, Annie, and Bianca would go,” Grover says evenly. “There’s no telling what the Fates intend, but you can only hope for the best.”
“I don’t want to do that,” Jason protests. He peers up at Grover, unsure of how else to say that. “Grover, I--I can’t wait for that. He could get hurt, or--or--”
The lights flicker above him once again, shimmering with abysmal darkness and the IM. Grover’s words come in muffles—
“Whoa—buddy--down--breath?”
Jason sucks in a deep breath. He sets the broken glass on the sink and cradles his forehead. Slowly, the tips of his fingers glide past his forehead and rest right beneath the knot of his camp necklace. “Grover, I need to be there.”
Grover stares back at him, clearly confused. “Okay--well, if they haven’t finished picking people for their quest, then volunteer.”
“No--I’m. I’m not allowed on that quest. He told me I was retired.” Jason grimaces as the thought of Nico’s unhappy demeanor in their whispered conversation.
“Oh,” Grover says. There’s a sound of approval in his voice. “Well, I respect that.”
“I need to be there,” Jason repeats. He places a hand over his chest, where it’s ached ever since Nico walked away from him. “I. My heart hurts, Grover.”
Grover’s eyebrows furrow together, and he looks at the son of Hades sympathetically. “Jace—I…don’t want to be a downer. You said yourself that you want to be with someone like him.”
“I do,” Jason agrees. He hesitates. “At least. I. I think I do.”
“I think you do too,” Grover agrees gently. “Pan’s Pipes, Jace—I think you deserve the full retirement—broken hip, shuffleboard and all. You need someone who can grow old with you, and that’s…that’s not going to be Luke.”
That was never going to be Luke. Jason thumbs his rib cage, the pad of his fingers pressed against his heartbeat. “I. I don’t want to be with another Luke, ever again.”
“Then don’t be, brother.” The corners of Grover’s lips raise into an encouraging smile. “Take your heart out of the Fields.”
“I.” Jason curls his hand against his chest, fist clenched over his shirt. And he repeats, “I need to get my heart out of the Fields.”
“You deserve that much after everything. Don’t you think?”
For the first time since Nico’s departure, Jason finds a focus. And he nods—this time more confidently than before. “Yeah. I think I do.”
*
After an awkward apology to Mike, Jason goes home. He walks the length from New Rome—cursing each raindrop as he does so—and remains stuck in his own head.
Realizes, how long he’s been stuck in his own heart.
He thinks of Mr. D’s silly metaphor about seed and skin and pulp and mute. Everything that Jason’s tried to separate in his mind for the longest time in order to…to keep order. To stay sane and just make it to sixteen.
He was a demigod, so he needed to make it to Camp Halfblood to learn how to survive.
He was a son of one of the Three Kings—so his fate was tied to Olympus.
He was the son of Hades—and his father would never be welcomed there.
He…loved Luke.
Kronos was the enemy. Luke was Kronos.
Kronos had to die. Luke had to die.
Bianca—could’ve—been the child of Prophecy. She…found an out. Jason hated her for doing it. Jason understood why she did it.
Thalia is his sister. Thalia is Roman—and he had to keep Camp Halfblood a secret. He had to keep Reyna a secret.
Nico…Nico liked him. Nico liked him, and wanted them to go back to normal.
Jason wants their normal back.
He’s tried so hard to keep those thoughts and feelings separated—to just keep moving and get past the next day so they never get as bad as his sixteenth birthday. As bad as dropping a knife in the bloodbath of a dead Luke Castellan, who was only inches away from killing Jason’s beloved best friend.
Those…thoughts haunted him anyway, like ghosts of his past. Eros forced them out. Eros mocked him for trying to fix things despite all the terrible things he’d done as a son of Hades. Jason was ashamed for trying to remove himself from his father.
You’re a son of Hades by being yourself, Nico had said.
Nico was there in Croatia when separating those thoughts became too much. He held Jason’s hand in the noise of it all—and for the first time since Luke, Jason didn’t feel the obligation to silence himself. He’d sobbed that day.
The richest wine came from all parts of Jason’s life—from his love of Thalia and Grover and Annabeth—to the deep-seated hate for Bianca, for Kronos, for the gods and his own mother—and. From every form of love and anguish and anger towards Luke.
From kindness, patience, and effervescence through Nico di Angelo.
Jason stares at his journal, drinking in every page that he’s earned since the end of the war. Every instance with Nico, where he felt…full.
Can I go where you go?
He runs his fingers against the ink from their dance. Jason’s reminded of the warmth of the wedding lights. They’d glowed in the hue of Nico’s eyes, like the first stars of evening’s light. Nico held a smile, far more elegant and consuming than the grooms, and Jason wanted to follow every move and cadence. He wanted…that feeling to last. The one that filled Jason to the brim every time he could feel Nico’s breath.
It’s a feeling he’s held for a long time.
Jason likes Nico.
And he wants to be there.
Jason packs a bag. He packs a first aid kit, two changes of clothes, and two surprisingly well-made sandwich combos.
Thalia happens to catch him on his way out. She stares at him, confused. “Where are you going?”
His cheeks flare with heat, hands curled nervously around the straps of his backpack.
“Jason?” Thalia asks, when he doesn’t answer right away.
“I’m,” Jason starts. Stops.
“You can’t tell me,” Thalia guesses, and Jason’s face flushes awkwardly. “Okay.”
Jason looks back at her, taken aback. She doesn’t look thrilled—but she doesn’t look angry, either. “O…kay?”
Thalia crosses her arms over her chest, demeanor twisting. “Is it Nico-related?”
Jason twitches, awkward. His sister only sighs.
“You can’t tell me,” she repeats.
“You…trust me?” Jason asks doubtfully.
“Jace, I’ve never not trusted you.” Thalia reaches out and touches him on the shoulders. Jason can’t help but feeling small under her touch. She strokes his cheek affectionately, her lips curling into a tame smile. “Come to me when you’re ready.”
The tiny gesture is so soft and delicate for his hardy sister that Jason feels a pang of guilt. He tightens his grip over his backpack and nods slowly. “Um—if. You don’t mind writing a note to my teachers—”
“Sure—permission to ditch.” Thalia pats him on the shoulder. She pulls him down and kisses him like a small child on the cheek. “Don’t forget to call when you get there.”
Jason’s face tingles from her touch. “But you don’t—”
“That’s okay, Jace.” Thalia touches his face again, looking no less loving than before. “Really.”
Jason lets go of a breath he doesn’t know he was holding. For…all control that he’d lost after his sixteenth birthday, he finally gained someone who loves him unconditionally. The realization hits him hard—how much his life has changed after Luke.
He holds his sister in a close goodbye before finally leaving.
Jason stops at Camp Halfblood first. He erupts from the shadows into Cabin Thirteen—and he’s brought back to the evening that Nico looked different. Where a single flake of Styrofoam at the crown of Nico’s head on the eve of Jason’s birthday made him want to focus on no one else.
He takes in a deep breath, his hands twitching at his sides, and unlatches his storage trunk. His old sword stares back at him, dark and abysmal with its rose-carved sheath and skull pollum.
Jason equips his sword.
Finally, with a shaky breath, he sinks through the shadows and into the Underworld.
*
*
Preparations are easy. Nico notifies both his teachers and Bianca’s. He lets Reyna know he’ll be gone for—a short while—and texts Thalia and Percy the heads up. Going through the proper channels for a quest is always a headache—notifying the right people, arguing with the Senate, going behind the Senate’s back when he disagrees—but after a month of this rain, Nico knows it’s necessary.
After all of that, Bianca and he head to the airport, where Nico flashes his Legionnaire papers to a Roman veteran, and they saddle into a private jet with Vancouver set as their destination.
All the while, Bianca examines the SUV that they arrived in, studies the airplane transporting them, and stares at the legal documentation for their absence from school.
“And Camp Jupiter really just covers this,” she says for the umpteenth time. “They have paperwork and procedures to handle going on quests.”
For the first time since the war, she’s out of her skirts and sweaters. Bianca looks more like a huntress, with her hair braided down her back and puffy jacket. Her quiver of arrows sits at her feet with her bow, while she polishes her silver hunting knife. Nico would hardly think this is the same sister that spends too long in the bathroom and shrieks when he tracks mud into the house.
“I’m afraid to ask what Camp Halfblood doesn’t have,” Nico remarks.
Bianca shakes her head, still overwhelmed by Camp Jupiter’s structure. “It’s better if you don’t know.”
Their aurae stewardess instructs them to put all chairs in the upright position and conceal all knives and other sharp objects. The plane takes off without fault, and they ascend high into the clouds past the irritating rain.
“So, are we going to talk about it?” Bianca asks.
“Talk about what?” Nico peels an earbud out of his ear and opens an eye.
“That weird moment between you and Jace?”
Nico bites the inside of his mouth. He sinks lower in his seat and places his earbud back in his ear. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Excuse you?” Bianca plucks the earpiece out of Nico’s grasp. “Do you need a reenactment? Where he pulled your arm like this—” She tugs his wrist, and Nico shakes it off.
“He’s just like that.” Nico reels his own hand back and pulls the sleeve of his rain jacket over his wrist. In doing so, he tucks away his Legion tattoo and Mammina’s peacock emblem. Nico fiddles with his fingers, brushing against every digit Jason grazed.
It was…familiar. Nice.
From the corner of his eye, Bianca stares at him in utter disbelief. “’He’s just like that’? He just felt the need to sweep you off your feet in the most graphic embrace that high school allows?”
Nico’s face burns with heat. He pulls the hood of his sweatshirt over his head and tugs at the aglets of his drawstrings.
“Oh, c’mon—”
“When you say it like that it makes me less inclined to want to talk about it,” Nico snaps irately. He crosses his arms over his chest. “Keep that in mind for all endeavors, Bee.”
Bianca firmly grasps at his shoulder, a look of exasperation clear on her face. She huffily crosses her own arms over her chest. “I’m just saying. I’ve known Jace a long time and I’ve never seen him get that upset over something before.”
“How often do you think he’s heard no when it comes to going on a quest?” Nico refutes. He arches an eyebrow and watches as Bianca investigates the air for an answer. “Jason doesn’t even let himself say no. He’ll be fine.”
He thinks it’s the end of their conversation, but a moment later finds Bianca burning holes into his jacket.
“What?” he cries.
“I’m just trying to figure out what you two talked about, since neither of you are willing to tell me,” Bianca protests. She gestures with her hands and points to herself. “I mean—I’m going on this quest, too. I didn’t get one of those hugs. I’ve had Jason Grace hugs before. Jace is a hugger.”
Nico rolls his eyes and props his head against the palm of his hand. “Okay, so we hugged.”
Falling into Jason’s arms felt like the most natural thing in the world—especially after the last few weeks of awkward encounters. There was a space in Nico’s chest, where he wanted to bury himself into Jason. He thinks Bianca’s right—Jason is definitely a hugger. One that held on with all of himself, with a nervous breath at the nape of Nico’s neck.
Which was a bad thing.
Bianca glares at him.
“What do you want me to say?” Nico protests. He rolls his eyes. “Maybe that means he likes me back? I should hold out over a stupid crush?”
“Well—” Bianca makes another gesture with her hands and nods emphatically. “Yeah.”
“Pass.” Nico crosses his arms defensively over his chest. “We should be focused on this quest.”
“One of us has actually died before, and I didn’t get one of those hugs,” Bianca mutters.
“Yeah,” Nico agrees. “Try not to do that again.”
Bianca flushes pink, her lips pressing into a frown. She’s silenced by her own embarrassment.
Nico rubs his temples gently and places his headphones in his lap. He stares down at his palms again, reminded of the tiny glee he felt when Jason held them earlier. Their morning was…tentative, with clumsy conversations on their way to school, but it felt…right.
Then the gravity of Jason’s embrace, and the vibrato of his voice against Nico’s ears sent his heart soaring. Jason cared—too much—and Nico wanted that abundance to fill the painful gaps in his chest that he desperately tried to ignore.
Spending the weekend with Bianca, then Thalia and Reyna, and making up with Percy helped. He got to make awkward amends with his sister, scream his heart out—and finally, truly enjoy laughing again with Percy.
One stroke of Jason’s hand against his own heart was enough to unsettle him again. To make all of him spark with a hope that Jason did like him back. That all of those looks and smiles and gestures meant something—
But they were a normal that Nico knows they can’t go back to because Jason’s just Jason. The reminder to Bianca is a stronger one for himself.
“I,” Nico says finally, his voice taut, “really need to use this trip to get over Jason.”
He can’t keep holding onto that thrill of seeing Jason’s smile. The disappointment is too painful when he comes down from that high.
Bianca touches his arm gently, her expression changing into one of sympathy. Finally, she doesn’t protest his decision. Instead, she leans into his warmth and lays her head on his shoulder.
Nico leans into her. He traces the lines of his palm—and forces himself to stop when his mind wanders to Jason.
*
The Underworld isn’t any less intimidating. As soon as he erupts from the shadows, Jason’s stomach flops, trying to make sense of up and right and down and left. A chill bristles through the underside of his skin, goosebumps erupting like volcanoes across his skin. The back of his neck burns as it senses the River Styx nearby, and his hand flies to cover it.
The sounds of the Underworld scrape against Jason’s earbuds. He hears them crawling at the base of his neck, while the rest of his body feels stiff. Jason can’t focus until he feels someone shaking the life back into him. His vision blurs for all but a moment—and then he focuses his line of sight.
“Mom?” he asks.
Jason gets a flash of her mist disguise—a woman with weathered skin and straw-like brown hair in an unsuspecting, modest sweater and jeans—then the image of Alecto, leader of the Furies, stares back at him with large, pupiless gold eyes.
She hunches parallel to him, large battish ears poking out in front of her straggly hair. Her bony fingers are gray and long, claws curled against Jason’s shoulder, with both wings outstretched around them. Alecto’s pug nose gives him a long, thorough sniff, and she bares her yellow fangs in a warm grin. “Hello, little pup.”
Jason’s chest swells at her voice. It’s a gravelly whisper, laced with a well-earned fondness. He looks around to figure out where he shadowtraveled—and finds himself at the entrance of his father’s palace. Sconces of green flames light the trail in an unnatural hue—to remind everyone that they’re in the land of the dead. “How…did—”
“The King keeps track of his children’s whereabouts,” Alecto explains. Her wings wrinkle and fold at her back—and before Jason knows it, he’s being guided into the palace by the hand. “If they make it to the Underworld, then He must know why.”
Jason swallows nervously. “Oh.”
“Children of Hades can come in two ways,” Alecto continues, “alive or dead. If you are dead, little pup, you better have a good reason, or he will send you back.”
“No—I’m definitely alive, Mom.” Jason looks around the palace halls, taking in familiar sights from his last visit. He allows himself to take in the sight of extravagant portraits, guarded by uniformed skeletons from all walks of life. Roses made of gold decorate corridor tables, while the walls paint the story of the King of the Underworld’s love for his wife.
Alecto makes a sound of interest, her tongue clicking. “A quest?”
Well—technically not a quest. “No, Mom, I’m retired.”
At that sound, Alecto’s eyes glow, and her grin stretches until her fangs are fully bare. “A family visit?”
Jason hesitates. “Well—”
“Splendid! A celebration is in order—the King and Queen will be pleased!”
“Wait—the King and Queen—?”
WOOSH!
Alecto expands her wings with chary excitement and rushes them down the many corridors. Jason recognizes the pathway to the throne room only right before the entrance. Then—they stop upon entry, and Alecto unfurls her claw from Jason’s palm.
She adjusts her maternal stance to one of a subordinate, then slowly lands into a kneel at the foot of the throne. “My king and queen—the young master has arrived.”
“Jason?” he hears his father’s voice, piqued with curiosity. There’s a kind rhythm to his voice that makes Jason less nervous. “He’s here?”
Jason’s hands twitch at his side. He presses his thumb to his palm and gives it a gentle stroke. And—slowly, he rounds the corner and enters the court of the King and Queen of the Underworld.
Hades and Persephone, King and Queen of the Court, stare back at him in curiosity.
“Hi, Dad,” Jason starts—and he carries his gaze to Persephone. “Queen Persephone. I…um—Zagreus?”
In his father’s gaze, Jason no longer feels the formality to kneel. The sight of the Queen makes him apprehensive—but Jason isn’t prepared to see a third god in the throne room.
Zagreus stands a foot taller than Jason himself, with a more expansive width. His skin is the color of a tombstone, with a chiseled, handsome face that reminds Jason of a timeless statue. His Greek chiton is inked darker than shadows and painted richer than the reddest rose—and he adorns the skulls of the spoils of his enemies.
Much like last summer, Jason almost sees a reflection of himself—a version of a true, better descendant of Hades—but it’s quick to dismiss. Zagreus holds their father’s somber demeanor, with a derisiveness to his eyes that reminds Jason of Mr. D and a confidence that knows he’s the son of the King and Queen.
There’s a sneer at Zagreus’s lips. One that keeps Jason from finishing his greeting.
“Halfling.” Zagreus glares.
“I—” Jason starts. Stops. His mouth hangs, at a loss. The sword on his back grows heavy.
“Jason, my boy,” Hades greets more candidly. There’s a richness to his tone that disarms Jason—and a smile that livens the King of the Dead. “You’re just in time for family dinner.”
*
The last time Jason saw his father was in the throne room of Olympus, hobbled over a measly stool. For as comical as it looked for the King of the Dead, his pride for his two children made up for it. Jason truly felt like he’d done his father proud after the second war.
The image in front of him now—his father, dressed in black silk robes that billow with wailing souls—is a different image than the black jumpsuit in Pripyat. It’s an echo of last summer, where Jason truly understood how all-encompassing his father’s realm could be.
Right before he realized how easily the line between life and death could disappear so quickly on the battlefield.
Except this time, Jason doesn’t find himself uncomfortable. Nervous, sure—but a different reason entirely. From across the long dining room, Hades looks up from his beloved wife, and the smile on his face knows peace.
The room adjacent to the dining hall bustles with noise as ghostly servants prepare their dinner.
“How’s school, my boy?” Hades asks, after a long silence.
Persephone and their shared son hold a different look. She’s nonplussed by his presence, while Zagreus shows displeasure from across the empty table.
“It’s—um. It’s going well.” Jason wipes sweaty palms on his knees. “My teachers really like me. They’re always surprised to find out that Thalia and I are related.”
“So am I,” Zagreus grumbles in a low, scathing baritone.
Jason bites back a grimace. “Mostly, um, because they don’t believe she’d ever have a last name.”
“Grace,” Hades answers pleasantly. “Just like your mother, the starlight. Beryl Grace.”
At the mention of his mother, Jason wants to shrink. He watches Persephone’s demeanor shift into an unpleasant leer and scrambles for his backpack. His hand flies through a folder. “I—actually, I really like school. I. Brought my report card. Calculus is a bit of a struggle, but I like solving the puzzle—”
Out of nowhere, the folder glows a rosy pink. It flies across the table, in front of the queen herself. Persephone stares at it peculiarly. “What is this?”
It takes Jason a moment to decipher what this is supposed to be. His face turns scarlet as he realizes what she’s staring at. “That—um—a drawing I did for my art class. I got a good grade for it.”
“What a fine drawing,” Hades remarks. He leans into his wife’s air.
“Zag, look at your little brother’s drawing,” Persephone continues. She waves her finger, and Jason’s drawing faces him once more.
“Two eyes and a mouth,” Zagreus mutters. “Just like every other mortal.”
“That’s—my friend, Nico, actually,” Jason says, and his cheeks glow.
“Juno’s boy,” Hades recalls.
“Ah,” Zagreus says. “Thalia’s little adoptee.”
“My little brother,” Persephone gushes. She strokes the drawing, and Jason resists the urge to snatch it back. “He’s a cutie, isn’t he? I heard he gave Daddy a mouthful.”
“Ah, you captured his essence quite well, my boy,” Hades says, inspecting the drawing once more. “You drew this?”
“I—yessir.” Jason’s hands twitch.
“What a lovely job. Mortals like to hang their childrens’ work, don’t they?” Hades asks. He waves a hand, and an ebony frame appears over Jason’s drawing.
“I—well, on the fridge, usually,” Jason stammers. “It’s not—”
“Very well,” Hades says. “Alecto, be sure this makes it to the refrigerator. Use one of those dog magnets. The one with the long body, will you?”
Oh boy—if Jason makes it out of this conversation alive, he hopes he doesn’t have to tell Nico about this one. “I—um—”
Alecto appears out of nowhere. She appears at Hades’ side—and even she looks delighted at the drawing. “At once, your grace.”
“His grace, actually,” Hades says. He gestures towards Jason, and Jason tries hard not to hide beneath the table.
A moment later, the door to the kitchen bursts open. One of Alecto’s sisters, Tisiphone, emerges with a bar cart filled with entrees. A chef’s hat sits past her bat ears, while an apron is tied behind her wings. She gives Jason a pleasant wave and passes out plates.
“Tonight’s salad has been carefully selected from the Queen’s garden,” Tisiphone announces, “with Cap’n Crunch croutons, followed by a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch with milk personally delivered by Meneotes for the benefit of the young master. Dessert will be Lucky Charms.”
“Oh, wow,” Jason says. He stares at the lavish produce, decorated with cereal in such a way that it looks like berries.
Tisiphone beams at the compliment.
Hades sighs forlornly. “Very well.”
“Jason, darling,” Persephone starts—in a nurturing tone that surprises Jason, “is the cereal too hard? Too cold? Would you like Tisiphone to blow fire on it for you?”
“I—no ma’am,” Jason says stiffly. He stares at his salad curiously.
“Not a fan of greens?” she continues. “Perhaps a cow would suffice—”
“Let him fend for himself, Mother,” Zagreus interrupts tiredly. He eyes Jason from across the table. “He’s made it clear he doesn’t welcome our help.”
Jason shifts awkwardly in his seat.
“Come now, Zagreus,” Hades chides. “That isn’t the way to talk to your brother. I believe family dinners are enjoyed in silence for most households.”
“Darling,” Persephone says. She reaches out and touches her husband’s hand. “Only in lonely households.”
“Aren’t they busy eating?” Hades asks. “Jason—how are dinners enjoyed on the surface?”
Jason stares at his father, unsure of what to say. “I—well—”
“Ignore him,” Zagreus grunts brutishly. He turns his line of sight from their father and stares gravely at Jason once more. “The spring and summer leave him with social skills to be desired. I’ll ask the question that everyone here is so blindly overlooking.”
Jason stares back at his brother, whose hallowed expression leaves him feeling ill at ease.
“A year ago, you came to this palace and asked for our father’s blessing. You sought the power of the River Styx. Alecto and I led you there,” Zagreus continues, hardly taking in Jason’s discomfort. “You were to bring pride to the House of Hades. What do you do instead, halfling?”
Jason swallows hard. “I—”
“You make a mockery of our father’s realm. You become a joke. A healer. You toss aside a sword meant for our father’s Hero and become nothing.” Zagreus’s gaze narrows. “You’re no different than the other mortal fools who flirt with our father’s kingdom and denounce Death. So, what task up there is so important that you flatter us with your presence once more, little brother?”
He gives Jason a hardened stare, while Jason presses a hand firm against his own knuckles.
“That’s far too heavy of a topic for dinner conversation,” Hades mutters. He slices through his Lucky Charms breakfast bar neatly with his knife and fork. “Alecto has assured me that this visit is not for a quest. Isn’t that right, Jason?”
Jason peels his eyes away from his irate godly brother. He turns and faces his father instead.
“Go ahead,” Hades urges. “You won’t be silenced here.”
“No, Dad, It. Isn’t for a quest,” Jason agrees finally. “I’m…sorry it’s taken so long for me to come visit.”
“Nonsense,” Hades says. “Someone must have the pleasure of enjoying my beloved’s spring. Be sure to pack cereal for your trip back to the surface, my dear boy.”
“Your father is right, Zag.” Persephone rests a hand to her cheek and studies Jason. “The surface is far more interesting these days. Your brother knows how to summon armies. How to foster bloodshed. He’s made quite the stir on Olympus—Daddy is positively upset at his existence. If Jason’s become a healer, why shouldn’t he learn to lick his wounds between fights?”
“I. I don’t fight anymore, ma’am.” Jason fumbles with his own hands. “I’m—well. I’m not really a healer these days, either.”
Persephone’s chorale of his feats disappears with confusion. With disappointment that makes Jason feel worse. “Then what are you?”
“A good student,” Hades says. “And quite the artist, from the looks of it. You should draw the family portrait.”
“Whose family?” Zagreus grumbles.
“Dad,” Jason says, skirting his brother’s gaze. “I…have a request.”
“What a surprise,” Zagreus mutters.
“Hush now, Zagreus.” Hades sets down his knife and fork. And once again, he looks at Jason patiently. “Very well, my boy. Tell me your non-quest request.”
Jason sits taller in his seat. His stomach flops in anxious knots—worse than reorienting himself for the Underworld.
“I’m…ready to see him.” The words are hard at his throat, bubbling with apprehension. He curls his hands into his knees to keep them from shaking. “I want to see Luke.”
“Oh,” Hades replies. “Well, of course not.”
Jason stares back at his father—whose expression falls from benevolence to sternness quickly. Zagreus looks delightfully smug at the immediate refusal. Jason places his hands on the table, eyebrows furrowed. “But—Dad, I’m…not asking you to reverse the judgment on his life this time. I just—I need to see him.”
“That Hermes boy is not to be removed from the Fields of Eternal Punishment. It’s called Eternal for a reason,” Hades admonishes. “Removing him from his prison puts not only Olympus at risk, but my kingdom as well. Need I remind you about the state of the Doors this past spring?”
“No. I understand that risk. But—I’ll take fault for that if anything goes wrong,” Jason says.
Hades stares at him more disapprovingly than before. “This isn’t a matter of taking fault, my dear boy. Luke Castellan was judged accordingly. His time has passed.”
“But my time with him hasn’t,” Jason protests. He presses a hand to his chest. “Dad, I still—I. I need to talk to him.”
“You can hardly talk about him now.” Hades stares at him, deadpanned. “Nothing has changed since you were here last, my dear boy. He remains down there.”
“Dad—I’ve changed. I’m better off than I was a year ago. I don’t fight anymore, I—I go to school now. I have a life—one that I know is worth living,” Jason reasons. “You don’t understand how hard it was for me to get there.”
“No, my boy. I believe I do.”
Jason’s chest is tight as Hades stares back at him, unwavering. His father looks far more serious than before, his cereal bar pushed aside.
“Your brother’s words aside, I’m well aware of the revival you’ve had up there.” Hades studies him. “I know what a moment’s hesitation nearly cost you—cost all of Olympus--before you ended his life. I’ve never shamed you for the path you chose after your sixteenth birthday, my son. It’s treated you well.”
Hades sighs gloomily into the air.
“But I’m also aware your path has given you great pain, between the death of your friend and that boy. It’s a path that’s led to Tartarus for both my children,” he continues. “You take the judgment of my council to heart, Jason—something other mortals happily overlook. You’ve earned several lifetimes in Elysium already. This path is much better for you.”
His expression dims with discontent, and the sconces hiccup with his upset.
“I will not foolishly allow you to cause yourself more pain, so long as it is in my control.” Hades clasps his hands together, offering nothing in the way of sympathy for his son. “You are my rule-follower, Jason. I strongly recommend you keep it that way.”
Jason’s throat grows dry. “But—”
“Expressly forbidden,” Zagreus interjects, smugly placing a hand on the table. “Do try not to embarrass this family any more than you already have, halfling.”
Jason’s jaw tightens. He stands to his feet, palms flat on the surface of the table until he’s face to face with his older brother.
Zagreus stands as still as a corpse, hands crossed over his chest. He stares at Jason, chin held high, as if to rile him further.
“Go ahead,” Zagreus goads. “Prove me wrong.”
Jason—
—can’t.
He doesn’t reach for the sword at his back, nor does he ever want to give into that temptation. Jason’s far too familiar with this contempt from Mr. D—and he knows better than to give into that itch. Not again.
Instead, he sucks in a breath, and sits back down.
A silence follows, where Jason is forced to push around his Cap’n Crunch croutons and stir the Cinnamon Toast Crunch in his bowl.
Eventually, Hades asks, “So, what comes next after a mortal family dinner?”
*
Despite the tense family conversation, Hades urges Jason to retire to a bedroom. Jason isn’t kicked out for his absurd request or made to leave. In fact—there are silk pajamas neatly folded on his bed.
His bedroom in question is stark. There isn’t the homely feeling of his books lined up on his shelf, or pictures from the past summer. It’s barren of his own personality—something that Thalia insisted shine through when they moved in together. Even Cabin Thirteen felt more like a home. For how much inspiration Annabeth wanted to draw from the Underworld, she insisted he needed to feel comfortable, too.
He understands why his room is empty—for the exact reason Zagreus berated him during dinner.
Jason fell well past the Underworld into Tartarus long before coming back to visit his father. He feared it, after how his sixteenth birthday went. Even with Nico’s resolution in the spring, Jason avoided it. He…was happy, for the first time since Luke’s death.
He is happy, with the way things are, living with Thalia. All the pain and strife his father brought up ended with a life in New Rome with his big sister and friends.
His life didn’t end, he corrects himself. It’s still going. Jason doesn’t want to lose that.
Gods—trust his father to finally care about the things he was doing when Jason wanted nothing more than to be ignored.
Jason lands in his bed and glares at the canopy.
“Now what?” he mutters.
He’s…not sure what to make of Zagreus’s slights against him. Or his father’s claims to keep him safe. Jason doesn’t like the stark divide between himself and his family, after so long trying to avoid it. Loving Thalia has made him a better person for himself—for all that Dad actually let him protest.
And then it hits him.
Jason sits up from the bed—almost too fast. He cocks his head out the window and stares off into the vast distance of the Underworld.
He’d have to break the rules.
If Dad won’t let him summon Luke, then Jason needs to break into the Fields of Eternal Punishment.