Chapter 1: Actions
Chapter Text
Jason wasn’t sure why he was kneeling. It wasn’t like this one extra sign of respect would finally get him what he was looking for. It wasn’t like kneeling on the marble floor, hands clasped, head bowed, would amplify the volume of his prayers so that finally, they were answered.
It wouldn’t do anything.
Jason knelt anyway.
Blinking, he started, “I know…” He wet his lips. “I know you’re the Ruler of Olympus, the King of the Gods. I know you have responsibilities. I know there are…gods, a million things more important than me that you have to see to, but…Dad…I need your help.
“I was born a Roman. I was raised a Roman. I have lived, breathed, fought, and bled for the Might of Rome, for my whole life. And then…Juno erased—she took everything that I was, every memory and thought of my life, of Rome, and I wasn’t…I wasn’t me.
“I thought I found myself here, at Camp, but…I finally regained my memories, and who I was before is so different than I thought, than I made myself here. I don’t…feel Roman anymore, not as surely and as truly as I had before. But I don’t feel completely Greek, either.
“I don’t know what I am, Father, and…if you have the time to spare, I would be most grateful for your guidance.” Finished speaking, Jason bowed, his forehead touching the marble floor beneath him. It wouldn’t do anything, surely, but…maybe.
He let out a deep breath, and sat in the silence, wondering if his father had even received his prayer.
“Wow.” Jason startled, shooting upright and spinning around to face his door. He fell from his knees as he turned, marble statue of his father digging into his back and the freezing floor hard under his butt.
Percy leaned casually against the doorway, expression unreadable. “No wonder he leaves you hanging, man. That has got to be one of the saddest things I have ever seen,” he commented.
Jason’s cheeks started burning. Angrily, he bit, “What, like you ever get a response? You might not pray like the rest of us—“
“Whoa.” Percy cut him off, holding his hands out placatingly. “Not what I meant, Grace. Pray all you want, we all do. I was talking about how you were doing it.” He scrunched his nose. “Very Roman, if that at all helps your inner turmoil.” Which…it did. A little. But Jason wasn’t going to tell him that.
“Well, how do you pray, then?” Jason asked. Percy grinned; it was all teeth, too sharp, and it brought out a dark gleam in his eye. Jason found himself wondering if he could rescind his question.
Percy gestured out the door. “Follow me, Sparky. Allow me to teach you the best and worst parts of being Greek.”
“Like…praying?” Jason asked as he got to his feet.
“Exactly like praying,” Percy confirmed. And, how could praying be either the best or worst thing about being Greek? Jason decided, for curiosity’s sake and not because Percy could potentially teach him how to get his father to notice his prayers, to follow.
Jason should have taken his shoes off. Percy had led him, unsurprisingly, to the beach, and like an idiot, Jason had followed without pause. He was regretting it, now. How Percy could stand having sand in his sneakers was something Jason would never understand.
“You’re asking too much, man,” Percy told him, gaze pinned to the Long Island Sound. Glancing between the water and his eyes, Jason couldn’t tell which reminded him more of the ocean. Something about Percy’s eyes put him on edge…how they saw too much, knew too much.
He frowned. “I’m—? All I’m asking is for some guidance, Percy, gods, if that’s too much—“
“You’re misunderstanding me again, Jace.” Percy shook his head. “You’re asking. Why? These dicks are like shitty teachers—fantastic at ignoring questions.” Had that been thunder, or had Jason imagined it? Nervous sweat pricked at his brow. Percy…Jason would never be able to understand how he did it so easily; how he insulted the gods, made them angry, yelled at them like they couldn’t touch him. “Don’t ask. Demand.”
“There’s no way that works,” Jason protested. Asking might not be the best way to get noticed or answered, but surely it was better than that. It was more respectful, and the gods needed to be respected.
Percy shoved his hands in his jeans pockets and started humming softly. It was beautiful. It had Jason’s eyes fluttering closed before he knew what was happening.
“Watch this,” Percy grinned.
He started talking. “Hermes, man, been a while. Not sure if you remember me, I’m Percy, I’ve saved your sorry ass on a few occasions. I, uh, I miss George and Martha.” Jason mouthed, George and Martha? but Percy shook him off. “I want some more of those gummies, man. For science.”
Once he finished, Percy held up a finger and nodded. Wait. Jason glanced around—back towards the cabins, over at the forest, along the shore and sand dunes—but he saw no changes. Until he followed Percy’s gaze and noticed a guy a few years older than them jogging along the shoreline. Each time a wave crashed, he danced away to higher ground before following it back down the slope as it receded. He had a…was that a pizza delivery satchel?
Jason just stared as the guy approached them. He stopped in front of Percy and wiped his hands on his shorts before resting his hands on his hips and asking, “What kind of science?”
Jason’s jaw dropped. No way that worked.
Percy, Jason had noticed, had a few different smiles. The first radiated happiness. His eyes crinkled and his dimples showed, and unfortunately it was showing up less and less these days. The second, Jason had seen earlier—all teeth, like a shark or a wolf; it was downright predatory, it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Don’t even try, that smiled whispered, I will crush you, and I’ll have fun doing it. The third was a fake, a mask. It mirrored the first in every way except for his eyes—they were flat, and dull, and dead, and barely decipherable.
That was the smile he’d seen most since the Giant War.
Percy’s smile now, though? It made Jason’s spine shiver—it was far more mischievous than anything he’d ever seen grace Leo’s face.
“You know Lou Ellen’s pig bombs?” Jason would never say this out loud, but Hermes immediately started making heart eyes at his cousin. Clearly, he knew both Lou Ellen’s pig bombs and what Percy was thinking.
“Olympus Above, man,” Hermes breathed. “You’re so totally my favorite cousin.”
Percy turned to Jason. “One of the worst parts of being Greek: the gods show up all the fucking time.” Hermes’ jaw dropped.
“You called me here, Kelp Head!” He smacked Percy on the arm. “For science!”
Percy reciprocated the gesture. “I told you: I miss George and Martha.”
Jason would have been little more than a smoking crater after a move like that. Percy, however, was in a very heated slap battle with the god of thieves. A few seconds in, they started chasing each other around Jason, trying to land hits and use him as cover at the same time.
Maybe Jason was a die-hard Roman. His brain was short-circuiting. Would a Greek’s brain be short-circuiting?
“Truce!” Hermes called, standing in the surf, eyes wide and hands raised in surrender. Jason hadn’t known Percy was capable of looking smug; he shot a proud smirk at Hermes then put a hand on Jason’s shoulder.
“Don’t ask,” he repeated. “Demand.” Then he turned to Hermes. “Come prank Cabin 5 with me.” Hermes’ eyes lit up. “Bring the gummies.”
Percy led Hermes up the beach, Jason trailing behind.
Don’t ask. His gaze stayed on the god—the Olympian that Percy had summoned like it was nothing. Demand.
Maybe…Maybe Percy knew what he was talking about.
Chapter 2: Consequences
Summary:
Jason prays again, taking to heart Percy's advice.
This goes about as well as expected.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Percy Jackson knew nothing about anything.
Correction—Percy Jackson knows one (1) thing, and one thing only, and that is ‘piss off gods for fun’.
Jason’s next prayers sounded very different.
“Dad, I need your help. Just talk to me. That’s all I want. You could easily help me figure out where I belong, and all it would take you is one conversation. This isn’t too much to ask, if you would just listen to me—”
He was cut off by a deafening crack of thunder that sent shivers down his spine and goosebumps up his arms. Jason nodded quickly. “Understood, Father, very sorry, Sir.”
Percy snorted from behind him. “Wow, Grace, showing your belly that soon?”
Jason turned to stare at him incredulously. “He’s the king of the gods! Yes, I’m showing my belly, I want to live—“
“He’s not gonna kill you,” Percy argued. “Watch.”
And Percy settled himself on the floor next to Jason, legs crossed, and loudly stated, “’Sup, Dad. You remember that time, when I was twelve, where you said you regretted that I was born? And you know how it’s totally your fault I’m a demigod? Yeah. Time to start carrying your weight of the years and years of parenting you missed out on. Parent-Teacher conferences are tomorrow and Mom’s flat on her back with the flu. Be there.”
Jason had been impressed. Really impressed. No thunder, no lightning, no End-of-All-Things-type storms or earthquakes or tidal waves followed Percy’s prayer. “Wow,” Jason started, “that was actually—“
“Incredibly reckless?” Someone at the door drawled. Percy and Jason whirled around to face whoever had spoken. Poseidon, wearing a headache-inducing Hawaiian shirt, khakis, and a fishing hat, leaning casually on his trident, sent an amused wink at the two of them. “Although, I suppose that’s my fault. Outright telling you that you were my favorite child when you were fifteen…I see now, that I should not have expected you to become less impertinent.”
“You didn’t really expect that, right?” Percy asked. “You know me better than that.”
“I certainly do. Provided that tomorrow, you’re still alive, I’ll be at your conference,” Poseidon said. “Now. You’re welcome to take a wild guess as to who has requested your presence on Olympus.”
Percy rolled his eyes. He didn’t seem concerned. Jason? Jason was going to have a heart attack.
The throne room of Olympus was magnificent.
The thrones themselves were enormous—each as tall as Jason’s cabin back at Camp. His father’s shimmered in the light, with strings of lightning running around it. Poseidon’s resembled a foldable chair, with extra cupholders and fishing lures hanging from the arms. Jason swept his gaze around the room, noting each throne’s unique features and guessing who they might belong to.
He was doing this partially to avoid his father’s stormy gaze.
Percy had no such reservations. Glaring at the god, he asked, “With all due respect, Lord Zeus, which is none, why are we here?”
“We are here, Nephew,” Zeus gritted, “because you are being a horrible influence on those around you.” Jason’s eyes widened.
Percy’s jaw dropped in offense. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, I am not—“
Zeus frowned. “The demigods at your Camp—“
“—influence, I’m a fantastic influence, Jace, tell him—“
“—being respectful, as they should, until you came along—“
“—just not being your pawns, and you don’t like that, do you, Mr. ‘Maybe If I Turn Her Into A Tree She’ll Be Useful Later’—“
“—now they’re all thinking that if you can get away with it, surely they—“
“—what, do you just have zero chill? Asshole—”
Percy stood, in the throne room of Olympus, arms akimbo, arguing with the king of the gods, like he was born for it. Jason, however, hung back with Poseidon, both watching the argument with interest and muted horror. Jason leaned over to Poseidon. “What, do you just let him do that?”
“Insult my brother like this?” Poseidon asked. At Jason’s nod, he continued, “Yes. What am I supposed to do, stop him?” The god made a face at that and shook his head. “I’d rather get in the way of Kymopoleia and her storms.”
The two watched as Percy flipped Zeus off and continued arguing. “Besides, no harm will come to him here. Not so soon after he’s saved the world.”
As soon as Poseidon nodded, content in his belief that nothing would happen, Zeus turned to him. “Poseidon, you have twenty seconds to convince me to spare your son’s life.”
Percy turned to face Poseidon as well. “You don’t have to, dad, I’m fine—“
“You will royally piss off Sally Jackson should you slaughter her son,” Poseidon offered. Percy made a face and nodded.
Zeus paled. “Ah. Thank you, Poseidon.” The sea god bowed his head in reply. Zeus turned back to Percy and the two continued their…would this really count as an argument or was this just how the two of them held a conversation with each other?
Jason turned to Poseidon. “We won’t be leaving anytime soon, will we?”
Poseidon shook his head. “Not until Percy undoubtedly manages to elicit some promise out of my brother that he would never agree to otherwise.”
Jason sighed. “So, if I promise to never pray like that again…?”
“That would be best. You’ll be fine for now, boy; Percy always protects his friends. However, I would not recommend adopting his, errr…crass demeanor of speaking with the gods.”
“Understood. Thank you, Lord Poseidon.”
“Please, call me Uncle,” Poseidon smiled. “Ten drachmas says Percy kicks Zeus sometime in the next hour.”
Jason smiled to himself. Maybe he didn’t need his dad’s help figuring out where he belonged. Maybe, he just belonged with his family—both sides of it. “You’re on.”
Notes:
methinks, my friends, this one is done!!

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