Chapter Text
Christmas arrived almost without them noticing, slipping into the house like a gentle presence. Warm lights ran along the hallways, the smell of food filled the air, and voices overlapped in a lively, full murmur. The house was crowded in a way it rarely was, and yet nothing felt chaotic just people who had decided, at least for that evening, to stay.
The Seven of the Prophecy occupied the living room in a noisy, disordered way. Percy laughed too loudly at any joke, Annabeth tried, and failed, to keep some semblance of control, and Leo as always couldn’t keep quiet for more than five seconds.
Leo snorted. “If gods exist, why can’t Santa Claus exist too?!” He crossed his arms. Fortunately, Estelle already knew about that, after Percy had accidentally let it slip the year before.
“A red giant who delivers gifts all over the world?” Jade snapped. “We’ve got a god who sleeps with half the world why can’t there be one who brings presents?”
Sally managed to cover Estelle’s ears just in time; she didn’t know that part yet. “Leo!” she scolded, and the boy apologized quickly.
“I’d like to remind you that he’s my father,” Jason added.
Leo raised his hands. “Hey, everyone says it, not just me.”
Jade, however, shook her head again. “Still doesn’t exist.”
Leo stood up straight. “That’s only because you never got presents from him.”
“No,” she shot back, “because you’re supposed to be in Lapland with the elves, and yet you’re here.”
The entire room burst out laughing.
Percy burst out laughing, Frank shook his head, amused, and even Annabeth smiled. Reyna, a short distance away, watched the scene with a new feeling in her chest light. Jade wasn’t holding back. She wasn’t measuring her words or making herself smaller. She wasn’t afraid to take up space.
She was back.
And Reyna could feel it in herself toothat she had changed. Not because she had become someone else, but because that constant weight, that tension ready to break her, was gone. She laughed more, spoke without worrying about how she’d be interpreted, moved among people with a natural ease she hadn’t felt in a long time.
Annabeth noticed. And so did Nico.
Sitting next to each other, they exchanged a brief, knowing glance. No words were needed. They had both seen Reyna close herself off, drift away, convince herself she was alone. And now they saw her there, among the others, present. Not perfect. But real.
“Presents!” Estelle suddenly shouted from the middle of the room, nearly jumping onto the couch. “It’s time for presents! Open the presents!”
A chorus of protests and laughter followed, but no one really had the heart to contradict her. Within minutes, the living room was filled with colorful paper, lopsided packages, and bows that were decidedly too big.
Reyna didn’t go to the presents right away. She stayed on the edge of the group, watching the others unwrap their gifts, as if the scene didn’t quite include her. Not because she didn’t want to be there, but because part of her still expected that, at some point, someone would realize she’d slipped in by mistake.
Sally interrupted that thought.
She approached with a package in her hands, simple, wrapped in red paper. “This is for you, Reyna.”
Reyna blinked, surprised. “For me?”
Sally nodded, smiling in a way that left no room for doubt. “Of course.”
Reyna took the gift carefully, almost afraid of breaking it. Inside was a neatly folded blanket, soft, in warm colors. Not something to show off. Something to use. To keep around on long evenings.
An object that said, without needing words: you can stay here.
Reyna lowered her gaze, feeling a strange warmth rise in her chest. She didn’t say anything, but the way she held the blanket spoke for her.
“Hey.”
Nico’s voice made her start slightly. He stood in front of her with a smaller package, his expression halfway between serious and annoyed. He handed it to her without ceremony.
“This one’s from me,” he said. Then immediately after: “And you’re an idiot.”
Reyna stared at him, confused. “Excuse me?”
“For making me worry for weeks,” Nico continued flatly. “Disappearing, shutting down, pretending everything was fine. Really brilliant.” He paused, then added more quietly, “But… I’m glad you came back to yourself.”
Reyna opened the package. Inside was a small silver pendant, simple and sturdy. Nothing flashy. Something that looked made to last.
For a moment she couldn’t find the words. Then she looked up and, without overthinking it, said only, “Thank you.”
Nico nodded, as if that was all he’d expected.
Across the room, Jade was receiving her gifts with a mix of sarcasm and caution. But when Paul approached her, her smile faltered for a moment.
“This is for you,” Paul said, handing her a package with gentle calm.
Jade took it, visibly surprised. Inside she found a set of compact, practical tools, designed to be carried anywhere. Not a guest’s gift. A gift from someone who expected her to stay.
Someone worth investing in.
Jade looked up, uncertain. Paul smiled at her as if it were the most natural thing in the world. As if there had never been any other possibility.
Then Annabeth stepped forward.
“And this one’s from me,” she said firmly. “Before you make jokes.”
Jade unwrapped it and fell silent. It was a small antique brass compass, polished and carefully calibrated. Not decorative. Not useless. Annabeth looked at her intently. “It’s magical, if you ever need it, you just have to say the name of the person you’re looking for and it’ll lead you to them. So if you need me, you can find me. And I’ll… really be a sister. If you’ll let me.”
Jade swallowed, then looked up. “Just so you know, I’m not easy.”
Annabeth smiled faintly. “Neither am I.”
Jade closed her fingers around the compass. She didn’t say thank you out loud, but the gesture was enough.
When the excitement over the gifts began to fade, the house settled into a softer murmur. Some people chatted quietly, others gathered up the torn wrapping paper, Estelle was already absorbed in her favorite present as if the rest of the world no longer existed.
It was Sally who broke that moment of calm, her tone light but attentive.
“Reyna,” she said with a small smile. “Don’t you have a gift to give too?”
Reyna flinched almost imperceptibly. For a moment she truly seemed not to understand. Then her eyes lit up all at once, as if a thought had suddenly resurfaced.
“Oh—” she murmured. She nodded right after, a little stiff. “Yes. Yes, I do.”
The room’s attention slowly shifted to her. Reyna took a few steps toward the table where she’d set a smaller package than the others, simply wrapped. She picked it up with both hands, as if it weighed more than it looked.
She stopped in front of Jade.
For a moment she hesitated. Jade looked at her, curious, one eyebrow slightly raised. She didn’t joke. Not that time.
Reyna held out the package. “It’s for you.”
The silence thickened as Jade took it and carefully unwrapped it. Inside was a pair of keys.
Jade slowly looked up, confused. “Reyna…?”
Reyna took a deep breath, as if she needed to anchor herself to it in order to speak. “It’s a copy of my house keys,” she said softly. Then, more firmly, “I wanted you to have them.”
Someone held their breath.
“You don’t have to be afraid of not having a place,” Reyna continued, her voice steady but heavy with something deeply personal. “You don’t have to think of yourself as temporary. That’s not just my house.” She swallowed. “If you want… it’s your home too.”
For a moment Jade said nothing. She looked at the keys in her palm, as if afraid they might disappear. Then she lifted her eyes again, bright with tears but incredibly present.
“Are you serious?” she asked quietly.
Reyna nodded. “Yes.”
And in a rush of emotion she could no longer contain, Jade stood up and kissed her. Without thinking, in front of everyone. The room froze for a second laughter stopped, hands stilled. Then they pulled apart, both of them blushing furiously.
“So has couple’s therapy finally concluded?” Leo called from his spot near the tree, wearing a mischievous grin.
“Leo…” everyone else groaned in unison, already tired of his sarcasm though this time they couldn’t really complain.
Paul cleared his throat, drawing everyone’s attention with a gesture that had by now become almost ritual. “Well,” he said, looking at Reyna and Jade with a half-smile, “I’d say Reyna’s gift pairs perfectly with Jade’s.”
Reyna looked at him, confused, eyebrows raised. “Perfect for… my gift?”
Jade nodded, seemingly calm, but with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. “Um… yeah. I’ll go get it.”
Everyone stared in disbelief as they watched her leave the house without any further explanation. The room’s murmur stopped, caught between curiosity and surprise. No one moved, waiting to understand what was going on.
A few minutes later, Jade came back in with a box in her hands. It was simple, with no bow and no ribbon, as if what was inside didn’t need decoration. She walked over to Reyna and held it out to her with a smile that revealed a new emotion, more open.
Reyna opened the box slowly. Inside, curled up on a small cushion, was a black kitten, its eyes wide and curious, tiny paws already ready to move.
“Oh…” Reyna couldn’t finish the sentence. The others held their breath, smiling, unable to interrupt such a perfect moment.
Jade knelt beside her, pointing at the little animal. “Thanks to Paul,” she explained innocently, “after the skating rink and the Christmas markets, he went back on his own the next day to get it. That way it wouldn’t raise suspicion.”
Reyna lifted the kitten gently in her hands, its soft fur slipping between her fingers, and stared at it in wonder. Jade continued, more serious now, but with her warm tone intact: “This is for you… to keep you company on those occasions when I won’t be there. But also as a reminder… that I’ll always come back.”
The little animal let out a soft meow, as if it already understood everything. Reyna felt a tightness in her chest: it wasn’t just a gift, it was a symbol, a promise, an invisible thread tying Jade’s and Reyna’s worlds together, regardless of distance or time.
Jade stood up, tucking her hair behind her ear, wearing a half-embarrassed but proud smile. Reyna stroked the kitten, held it a little closer, and looked at Jade, blushing slightly. Jade’s eyes met hers, and for a moment the rest of the room disappeared.
Leo, always ready to break any tension, commented with perfect timing: “Wow, if you keep this up, this Christmas is turning into a holiday romance movie. We need popcorn.”
Everyone groaned and laughed, but they couldn’t take their eyes off Reyna, Jade, and the little black kitten now sleeping peacefully in Reyna’s hands.
Christmas went on, full of lights, laughter, and warmth. And that night, Reyna was no longer alone, Jade was no longer afraid to take up space, and the house was finally a place where they could both stay together, without fear.
*
A couple of days had passed since Christmas. Sally and Paul had finally been freed from the constant presence of demigods,
even if Sally’s tears as she said goodbye to everyone didn’t exactly make her look happy about it.
Then they too had split up again between the two camps, promising to meet up for New Year’s.
Camp Jupiter hadn’t welcomed them with good weather. The house had taken on that kind of quiet that only comes after shared chaos.
Reyna and Jade were on the couch, both barefoot, blankets pulled up to their knees. Rain tapped slowly against the windows, steady, almost hypnotic. The black kitten slept between them, curled up like a soft parenthesis, its chest rising and falling faintly.
“I told you,” Jade murmured, staring at the ceiling, “I don’t want Latin.”
“You’re in a Latin camp,” Reyna replied without raising her voice.
“Which is exactly why it should be Greek. Not whatever that was supposed to mean.”
“But it sounded ancient,” Reyna insisted. “Like it belonged to something important.”
“You’re projecting,” Jade said. “It’s a cat. Not an omen.”
“I’m not convinced,” Reyna pressed on. “You can’t just give him any random name.”
The kitten made an indistinct little noise, as if disagreeing.
“There,” Jade half-smiled. “Even he doesn’t agree with you.”
Reyna lowered her gaze to him. “Then you tell me. Nyx?”
“Too obvious.”
“Thalassa?”
Jade wrinkled her nose. “Now you’re the dramatic one.”
“Umbra?”
“Absolutely not. You already have Argentum and Aurum,” Jade shook her head; the two dogs lifted their ears slightly, unwilling to move from their bed, “and it sounds like the name of someone who curses your bloodline.”
The kitten yawned, showing tiny teeth, then stretched against Jade’s side.
“He doesn’t seem to have a problem with Umbra,” Reyna commented.
“He’d eat a demon too, if you put it in a bowl for him.”
They both laughed softly a short, natural laugh, the kind that doesn’t need to be held back. Jade shifted more comfortably on the couch, letting her head rest against Reyna’s shoulder without thinking about it. It had become normal. And that detail, for both of them, meant far more than they would ever say out loud.
They went on like that for a while longer, throwing out random words, mixing Greek, Latin, and pure invention, until the conversation died out on its own, like a candle that doesn’t smoke.
That was when Reyna grew quieter than usual.
Not stiff. Just… focused.
“Hey,” she said at last, trying for a casual tone that didn’t quite work. “Can I ask you something?”
Jade didn’t turn right away. “If it’s about the cat’s name, no.”
Reyna let out a soft huff. “It’s not about the cat.”
That time Jade turned her head toward her. “Then yes.”
Reyna hesitated. Her fingers slid absently along the edge of the blanket. “You were talking in your sleep last night.”
Jade made a face. “Perfect. Great. Tell me I didn’t confess to crimes.”
“No,” Reyna said immediately. “Nothing like that.” Then she lowered her voice. “You were saying… strange words. It sounded like back then. During the possession.”
Jade’s body reacted before her face did: a barely perceptible tightening of her shoulders, as if someone had tugged an invisible string. Then she let out a slow breath.
“Oh.”
Reyna didn’t push. She let Jade decide whether to go on.
“You never really told me what you… sensed,” Reyna said finally. “And last night… it brought it back.”
Jade lowered her gaze to the kitten, who had shifted slightly, as if sensitive to the change in the air. She ran two fingers along his back, following the black of his fur as if it could anchor her there.
“Because there wasn’t much to tell,” she said after a moment. “Or at least, not the way everyone imagines.”
Reyna tilted her head slightly. “What do you mean?”
“It wasn’t like in the stories,” Jade explained. “No clear visions. No precise images. It was more…” she searched for the right word. “Sensory.”
Reyna felt her stomach tighten just a little.
“For a moment,” Jade went on, “I smelled something. Salt. The sea. Like when you’re too close to the water and the air gets into your lungs.” She paused, as if replaying the sensation. “And then a voice.”
“What was it like?” Reyna asked, almost in a whisper.
“Grotesque,” Jade answered without hesitation. “It wasn’t shouting. It wasn’t threatening. It was… confident. Like someone who knows they don’t need to explain anything.”
Reyna’s fingers slowly curled into the blanket.
“It only said one thing,” Jade concluded. “I’ll be back.”
The silence that followed was sharp.
Reyna froze for a moment too long. Her breath caught halfway, as if her body had recognized something before her mind did. Her eyes fixed on nothing, and Jade noticed immediately.
“Reyna?”
She blinked once, twice. Then forced a neutral expression. “Yeah. Sorry.” She took a deep breath. “I… I don’t know what it means. Probably nothing. Just residue.”
It wasn’t a complete lie. But it wasn’t the whole truth either.
Jade studied her insilence, the way she did when something didn’t add up. For a moment she looked like she was about to say more. Then she gave a small shake of her head.
“Okay,” she said softly. “If you say you don’t know, I trust you.”
Reyna felt the weight of that sentence more than she expected.
The kitten burrowed deeper into the blankets, pressing his nose against Reyna’s arm. She stroked him without thinking, the gesture automatic, reassuring.
“Anyway,” Jade said after a few seconds, deliberately lighter, “if someone really has to ‘come back,’ they can wait. We’ve got more important things to deal with first.”
Reyna raised an eyebrow. “Like?”
“Like the fact that we’re living with a nameless cat.”
A half-smile slipped out. “You’re right. Unforgivable.”
They looked at each other for a moment, then both lowered their gaze to the small black bundle sleeping peacefully.
“I think,” Reyna murmured, “he’s laughing at us.”
“Probably,” Jade agreed. “But for now… he stays.”
Reyna nodded slowly.
And for that evening, with the rain outside and the couch full, that was truly enough.