Chapter Text
“Delivery,” Jason chimes as he shoulders the door open and enters the tavern. He’s greeted with a chorus of indifferent “hello”s from the few people occupying the seats, not including the barkeep, Beckendorf, who smiles wide and waves Jason over.
“What do we have this time?” Beckendorf asks, gesturing for Jason to set the crate he’s carrying onto the bar.
“The hops have been flowering really nicely,” Jason explains. “Thalia says it should give the mead a citrussy, slightly bitter taste.”
Beckendorf sighs with appreciation, cracking open the crate and peering inside at the neatly ordered glass bottles—two dozen of them containing the brew of the season.
“Your sister sure knows how to match up her goods to mine,” Beckendorf says, closing the lid. “This will go nicely with the fish dishes I have prepared for the next few weeks.”
“She did mention that possibility, yes,” Jason says with a light chuckle.
“That woman has eyes that can peer into the future."
“Or ears that can hear you shouting your plans after one too many of her drinks.”
“Cheeky shit,” Beckendorf says, whipping his rag at Jason. Jason dodges it with a laugh.
“Hey, Charles,” one of the customers says, ambling over to the pair. “When you plannin’ on updating that notice board of yours?”
Jason glances over at the notice board. It’s practically overrun with notices already—commission requests, pleas to track down lost items, invitations to various celebrations across their little town—but it’s nothing Jason hasn’t already seen.
“Ah, right!” Beckendorf quickly pours the customer a refill, then ducks behind the bar, rummaging around. When he pops back up, it’s with a yellowed scroll. Jason tilts his head, curious, as Beckendorf crosses the bar to pin it to the board.
The customer, Ethan, notices Jason staring, and nods over.
“News came in just last night,” he says. “His greatest Majesty has fallen unexpectedly ill.”
“I’d watch my tone, Ethan!” Beckendorf sings, smoothing out the scroll and affixing it fully to the board. “Never know who’s around to misinterpret your words.”
“Oh, please,” Ethan says, mostly to himself. “There’s no one in here worth a damn outside of this tavern. Jason provides, Becks pours, and I drink.” He pauses, then inclines his mug toward Jason, the liquid sloshing against the edge. “No offense.”
“None taken,” Jason says, grinning. Then, turning to Beckendorf, “Have they sent any additional information? Or is it just…” He spreads his arms. “‘His Majesty the King is ill, keep him in your prayers’?”
“Something like that,” Beckendorf sighs. “I really hope he doesn’t take a turn for the worse. We’ve had too many years of peace for things to change now.”
“Now whose tone needs watching?” Ethan says, smirking as he rests his head on the bar.
Beckendorf snorts and walks back over. “I’m perfectly allowed to wonder whether he has a deserving successor lined up. There’s been no news of an heir for longer than I can remember, and that’s the sort of thing that would actually affect the kingdom.”
“I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough,” Ethan says, closing his eyes and finally dozing off. Jason rolls his eyes with a smile and pushes Ethan’s cup away from his hand, sliding it over to Beckendorf who starts to wipe it down.
“I should get going,” Jason says. “Thalia will be in tonight for the payment.”
“Sure,” Beckendorf responds. Then, after a pause, and not quite looking Jason in the eye, he adds, “Will you be seeing Piper later?”
Jason, who already knows where this is going, allows his smile to spread. “I’ll be seeing her soon, actually. She asked me to pick up some sweet buns on my way home.”
“Could you…” Beckendorf puts the mug down and grabs a small package somewhere from beneath the bar. Jason takes it. “Could you pass this on to her sister, please?”
“I will tell Silena you said hello,” Jason says.
Beckendorf whips his rag at Jason again.
“Little shit!”
***
Jason swings by the bakery for the buns Piper had requested and takes the long way home.
Dawn is a busy time in town. The bustle in the streets swells in direct proportion to the lightening of the sky. Doors and shutters are thrown open and voices rise, the clamor of the crowd a welcome sound to Jason’s ears. The squat buildings become hubs of activity, people breathing life into the otherwise still wood and stone.
Here and there, Jason is recognized and called out to. He’s known in town well enough through his sister’s brewery business—Thalia’s mead is widely regarded as liquid gold, and while she handles the recipe and business portion, Jason often helps in their garden, and he’s always, always in charge of the deliveries. The harbinger of happiness, as Ethan so affectionately calls him.
Jason looks down at the two deliveries he has now with a small grin. The package for Silena—undoubtedly some marvel of engineering that Beckendorf has designed lovingly for her—sits comfortably in a bag alongside the buns Piper is expecting. He has many routines, but this is one of his favorites. He likes watching Silena try to hide her pleased expression with a polite little smile, especially when it's in contrast to Piper’s own unabashed enthusiasm over whatever sweet treat Jason has brought home. Then Piper tears through half the bag, and Silena heads off to write some sweet, lovely letter that Jason will no doubt pass along to Beckendorf the next time he delivers to the tavern.
As he approaches the edge of the village, Jason is finally able to make out the crop of buildings clustered together: his home, attached to the gardens he tends to so faithfully, as well as Piper’s family home, attached to the boutique her mother runs. Here, where there is a smaller crowd and more room to run, children dart to and fro, ducking under elbows and dodging livestock as they chase one another. The sheepdogs run loose in this area, too; one comes barreling into Jason’s legs, and Jason laughs as it bounces back, shaking its head to clear the dizziness. Jason offers the dog a scratch behind the ear, and it yips at him, jumping to lick his face. Jason reaches over to give the dog a proper pet, when suddenly, it grabs the bag out of Jason’s hand and takes off.
“Wh—hey!” Jason flounders for a second, then breaks into a sprint after the dog. “Come back!”
The dog, being a dog, doesn’t listen to the shouting stranger, choosing instead to head for the woods. Jason laughs in breathless disbelief as he follows it. A dog may be faster in short bursts, but Jason can outlast its stamina. If it had been just the buns, Jason would have cut his losses, but Beckendorf’s gift for Silena is in there, and Jason is not going to be the reason why their love doesn’t blossom!
“Little shit,” Jason pants as the dog barrels into the woods, its tail wagging all the while. This, Jason supposes, serves him right for teasing that morning.
The dog skids to a sudden halt in a well-lit clearing. Jason stops to catch his breath just a couple of meters off.
“Alright, dog,” Jason huffs, “hand it over. I’ll even share the buns.”
The dog isn’t looking at Jason—doesn’t even seem, in fact, to have noticed him at all. It has its tail tucked between its legs, its hackles raised, and Jason realizes that it’s whimpering.
“Hey,” Jason says soothingly. “What’s wrong? There’s no need to be afraid.”
He takes deliberate, cautious steps forward, closing the gap between them, when he hears it—a low growl. Jason’s heart thuds, once, loudly, in his chest. He looks up, slow, so slow, and catches a flash of yellow right behind a bush at the edge of the clearing. It’s a wolf—no, a pack—and Jason is paralyzed with indecision, determined not to take his eyes off the closest wolf, torn between grabbing a stick or a rock to defend himself, when, all at once, it becomes too late and the wolf lunges, pouncing toward Jason with its jaws wide open, and Jason can’t even make a noise, and damn it, he’d just wanted to bring Silena Beckendorf’s gift—
—when, just as suddenly, a horse gallops in between them, and the wolf is knocked back by a rider with a sword.
“Back!” the rider shouts, their sword brandished. The wolves, incredibly, listen. The horse, fractious, or else just very self-assured, shifts its weight as though preparing for a fight. The wolves must be intimidated because they slink into the shadows before scurrying off.
The rider rears its horse, turning to face Jason and the dog in the narrow clearing. Jason shakes off his stupor, blinking exaggeratedly. His limbs are intact. He hasn’t been mauled to death. He’s very much alive, and Beckendorf’s package is still within reach!
Jason leans over to nab the bag back from the dog, who has the decency to look ashamed.
“Well, you should be,” Jason says petulantly.
“Are you alright?” Jason looks up as the rider—a woman—slides down from her saddle and lands delicately on the grass. She has a pair of incredible golden eyes, as well as dark skin and darker hair that curls in every direction. She’s clad in fine attire—a deep burgundy cloak, trimmed with gilt thread, and quality leather boots laced to the knee. A pin is affixed to her lapel: the royal crest.
“You’re a knight of the royal palace,” Jason says. The knight smiles, all cheek. Her eyes crinkle at the corners, just slightly.
“Yes,” she says. “Are you alright?”
“What? Oh—yes. Thank you, you were just in time.”
“And this little guy?” she says, her voice taking on a cooing tone as she addresses the dog, who, miracle of all miracles, has seemingly forgotten about its near-death experience, and is now wagging its tail happily. “How are you, baby?”
“He’s fine,” Jason says, rolling his eyes fondly. “Thanks to you.”
“All in a day’s work,” she says, straightening back up with a grin. “Be more careful, please. You never know what’s lurking in these woods.”
“Hazel, come on,” comes a voice from behind Jason.
Jason whips around. It’s a man on foot, in livery similar to the female knight’s—Hazel?—and looking very, very bored. Bags line his eyes, which are a deep, mildly unsettling, obsidian. His skin, at least whatever skin is visible through the uniform, is pale, almost translucent. His own royal crest pin catches a sunray, winking in the light.
“I’ll be done with my book by the time you wrap up here.” He glances over at Jason as though only just noticing his presence, and Jason bristles a little, trying not to feel as though he’s being sized down by a man a full head shorter than him. The man indulges himself in a pause, and then, arriving at whatever conclusion it is he’d worked towards, simply slides his gaze back to Hazel. “You have wrapped up, here, haven’t you?”
“I have,” Hazel says, pulling herself back onto the horse. “You’re so impatient, Nico.”
“We have things to do.”
“What things?” Jason asks.
Nico raises an eyebrow at him, no doubt taken aback. Jason pushes through.
“In my experience, knights only visit when there’s trouble. News of the king was delivered last night, so if that was your only business, you would have been gone by now. And yet you’re very clearly still here.”
Nico tilts his head, exchanging a glance with Hazel over Jason’s shoulder. Jason looks back at her, frowning.
“It’s just… I live here. We might be an ink blot on a map for you, but we’re good people. If something could be threatening the safety of the townspeople…”
Hazel smiles reassuringly, shaking her head. “You needn’t worry about anything like that. The knights of Half-Blood are protectors of all.”
“Yeah,” Nico adds. Jason turns back toward him. “Just, you know, maybe worry about your own safety and stay out of the woods.”
“Nico…” Hazel sighs. Nico shrugs.
“Just some sage advice from an elder.”
Hazel sighs again, then grants Jason one final smile.
“Would you like an escort home?”
Jason immediately says, “No.” Then, worried that that had come off as rude, adds, “Thank you. I appreciate everything. I can—handle myself from here.”
“Of course,” Hazel responds. With a bow of her head, she picks up her reins and trots off after Nico’s already-disappearing figure. Jason takes one last look around the clearing. The dog is still there, blissful in its ignorance.
Jason chuckles and scratches it behind the ears the way he had before.
“You are so lucky," he says.
Right as he’s about to straighten up, he notices something in the grass: a coin, silver and stamped with a strange symbol. Jason frowns and leaves it be—best that Jason doesn’t interfere with the lost-and-found process.
He tells the dog, “Let’s get out of here.”
***
“Piper,” Jason calls as he enters the cottage. He’s been letting himself in since he was a toddler—the virtues of being next door neighbors, and childhood best friends to boot. “You won’t believe what just happened.”
“Hi, Jason,” Silena says, appearing sudden and sylph-like at a doorway to Jason’s right. She smiles kindly, poised as though a bird readying for flight. Her eyes dart down to Jason’s bag. “Um, do you need help with that?”
Jason smiles.
“Yes, actually.” He takes out the package and holds it out for her. “Can you take this off my hands?”
Silena lights up, all but transforming from shy to radiant with joy. She floats over to Jason and takes the package.
“Did Charlie ask about me?”
“He sends his well-wishes,” Jason says. “You know he’s always thinking about you, Silena.”
Silena blushes a pretty pink, tucking her hair back.
“You’ll pass on my letter to him, won’t you?”
“Of course,” Jason says. “Just pop it on over when you’re done.”
“My buns!”
Finally, Piper. Silena bids Jason goodbye and leaves just as Piper comes bounding into the room, grinning wide, not at Jason, but at the sweets in his hand.
“Thanks, Jace. Knew I could count on you.”
Jason rolls his eyes fondly and hands her the bag.
“The baker recommended a different type, today,” Jason explains, following Piper into their common room where they can recline on the couch together. Piper throws herself onto the cushions and Jason joins her.
“It’s not meat, is it?” she says, eyeing the bag cautiously.
“Sweet potato,” Jason replies. “If you don’t like them, we can just go and get different ones, later.”
Piper hums and tucks into the buns, expressing her approval of the new flavor with an enthusiastic nod. Jason chuckles and turns toward her.
“So. The thing that just happened.” Piper gestures for him to continue. “Earlier, when I was walking over here, one of the strays ran into me and—get this—stole my bag.”
Piper laughs. “Seriously?”
“Seriously. He took off into the woods and I had to chase him down, and when he finally stopped, it was because he had run into a pack of wolves.”
Piper chokes, her eyes wide. “You’re lying.”
“There were five, maybe six of them,” Jason continues through her choking, “and I had nothing in hand, no way of protecting me or the dog, and just as I was about to be involuntarily ushered into the Heavens, a horse appeared out of nowhere and jumped between us and the wolves.”
“A horse?” Piper laughs. “Where did a horse come from?”
“Probably the palace,” Jason says, grinning. “The rider was a royal knight. She scared off the wolves, and then another knight showed up, told me to ‘be more careful’ As if I had run into the wolves on purpose.”
“Wait.” Piper sits up, her brow furrowed. “Knights? Palace knights?”
Jason blinks, confused at her sudden change in mood. She’s even set the sweet buns down, sitting up with her body rigid and leaning toward Jason.
“Uh… yes. Like I said, two of them. Both short, both black haired, except one was a dark-skinned woman and the man was just about see-through.”
“That’s not possible,” Piper says. “Why would the knights be here?”
“I don’t know, Piper, I didn’t send for them. What’s going on? Is something wrong?”
“Jason, listen to me. If the knights are here, I—” There’s a crash, suddenly, from the doorway. Jason and Piper rise to their feet, though Jason is stuck for a second, confused about the nature of the noise. Piper jumps into action, going for the mantel above the fireplace and grabbing, of all things, the sword that hangs there.
Jason stops and stares. Piper. With a sword. Piper with a sword and heavy footsteps barreling toward the room.
“Piper, what’s going—?”
Another crash as, this time, three cloaked, armed men break into the common room.
“Found you,” one of the men says, facing Jason. His eyes aren’t visible, but his lips twist into a smirk as he advances into the room.
Jason’s eyes widen. He stumbles back in shock, once, and then again as Piper raises the sword against the man closest to her, blocking his attack.
“Jason, go!” she shouts. “I’ll hold them off, get out of here!”
“Piper, what are you—?” Jason makes for the fireplace as well, aiming to grab a steel poker to help, but Piper shouts at him again, her sword clanging against her enemy’s.
“It’s you they want! Go! Run! I’ve got this!”
“Yes, but how have you ‘got this’—”
“Jason, fucking go!” Piper shouts, dodging a jab and somehow managing to continue to fight, taking on the men’s sword work and forcing it back.
Jason goes.
He runs out the back entrance, sprinting for the second time that day, though this time, he seems to be running for his life.
Jason’s fast—he’s always been rather athletic, so it’s no trouble, but his heart is pounding hard in his ribcage, the adrenaline whiting out his thoughts and sending his instinct into overdrive. Before he knows it, he’s back in the woods, though in a different corner. His chest rises and falls quickly with sharp breaths as he stops to look around.
Piper. And a sword. She’s good with it, no doubt—she’s always been fairly athletic, too, running around as a kid and climbing trees with Jason, but sword work is a skill that requires hours upon hours of relentless practice. Jason tried, once, as an eight-year-old, to use the sword Piper had just been using, but Piper had yelled at him to put it down and he hadn’t touched it since.
A voice speaks up behind Jason.
“Gotcha.”
Jason whips around, stumbling back. It’s another man in a cloak. Jason chooses to believe that this is a new man and Piper is okay, somehow still fending off three grown men with huge swords—but then that would mean that there are more men coming after Jason. “Who are you?” Jason asks, walking backward to create distance. “What do you want from me?”
“What’s it to you, princess?” the man snorts derisively, advancing on Jason, and that’s when Jason notices a pin on his shirt—round, small, and stamped with the same symbol Jason had seen earlier on the coin. “All we need from you is for you to come quietly.”
“No w—”
Thunk.
The man and Jason gasp in unison as an arrow flies between them, inches away from the man’s nose and embedding itself into a nearby tree. Jason looks around wildly, then up into the trees when a voice calls down from above.
“Up here, sillies.”
It’s a man. He’s hidden in the shadows, perched comfortably on a tree branch, with an arrow at the ready in his bow. Jason can’t make him out very well, but his hair looks dark, and he’s wearing the same clothes Jason had seen on Hazel and Nico, earlier. Another knight.
“Hey, you, with the cloak,” the knight says, and though Jason still can’t see his face, he can hear a grin in his voice. “Move again and the next arrow goes between your eyes.”
The man gasps and turns tail, running without a glance back. Jason hears the knight groan, “Wow, you must not value your own life,” before jumping from the branch and landing beside Jason half a moment later. Jason takes a second to take in his appearance—tall, almost as tall as Jason, with wavy black hair and incredible, heavily-lashed sea-green eyes—a second in which Jason’s heart thuds once, hard, against his ribs.
The knight makes to run after the man with the cloak but seems to change his mind halfway through making the decision, waving an airy hand.
“Bah, Nico’ll take care of him for me.” The knight sighs and sheathes his arrow, then turns to Jason with a grin. “You okay?”
“Yes,” Jason breathes. C’mon, lungs, work. He clears his throat. “Yes, thank you. It’s the second time today a knight has swept in to…" He lets out a breathless, disbelieving laugh. "Rescue me.”
The smile falls away into a pout.
“Aw, you mean I wasn’t the first to get to you?”
Jason raises an eyebrow. “What does that mean?”
“Well, whatever. Hey, is that all the thanks I get?”
Jason’s eyes widen slightly. The knight’s tone is—different, now. Somewhat playful. Jason’s cheeks feel a little warm.
“What?”
“I save your life and all I get is a ‘thank you’?” The knight grins (he has a dimple), tilting his head. Jason has a feeling he isn’t told “no” very often. “All ‘m asking for is a little more gratitude.”
“Percy, leave him alone.” A new voice, female and authoritative. Jason turns and sees a woman, tall and tan with blonde curls tied back, making her way toward them. Her clothing is similar to Hazel, Nico, and Percy’s, though the palace crest she wears is specially adorned. Jason guesses she’s the group’s captain.
“I wasn’t even doing anything,” the green-eyed knight—Percy—says. “You’ll always stifling my vibe, Wise Girl.”
“That’s Captain Wise Girl,” the woman says, confirming Jason’s hunch. At a glance, she seems no-nonsense, but there’s a glint in her eye that makes Jason feel like he should be standing on his toes. Then she faces him with a sharp expression, and Jason knows he should be standing at attention.
“Jason Grace,” she says, nearly shocking Jason out of his skin, “I know this is all very unexpected, but I need you to follow us.”
“What?” Jason backs up, distancing himself from the knights. “No." He shakes his head for emphasis, then repeats, "No. I don’t know any of you and I’m not coming with you when I don’t even know what’s going on.” With his stomach dropping, he remembers Piper. “And—my friend—”
“Pipes is fine,” Percy says. He takes some steps closer to Jason, closing the distance between them, with his arm out, palm up toward Jason. “Please. Come with us.”
The adrenaline is still pulsing through Jason’s veins, but the words get through to him—these guys know Piper. If anyone would be able to explain what’s going on, it would be her.
Jason nods. They leave together.
***
“Jason!” Thalia shouts, running down the path toward him. She’s in a pair of overalls and a ratty shirt she’d stolen from Jason ages ago, her dark hair wild like her eyes, which are full of worry. It’s been just the two of them for longer than he can remember, and although she’s the quintessential teasing older sister, she’s, in a lot of ways, a mother figure, always concerned for Jason’s safety and wellbeing. She launches herself into Jason’s arms, then quickly dislodges herself to run her hands across his chest and shoulders, patting him down.
“Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
“Thalia, I’m f—”
“What did you fuckers do?” Thalia shouts at Percy.
Jason’s eyes widen. Thalia has always been rather outspoken, untouchably so, but speaking that way to a knight of the royal guard is sure to threaten the limits of her apparent immortality. Jason’s about to attempt to smooth things over when Percy rolls his eyes, waving her off.
“We’re only here to help, Thals, jeez. No need to get all up in arms.”
“It’s true,” the captain says, leveling Thalia with an assuring smile. “Our intentions are to make things right.”
Thalia squints at her, then unwinches completely with a deep sigh.
“Annabeth,” Thalia says. “What’s going on?”
“Commander,” calls a voice. It’s Hazel, no longer on horseback, jogging up to everyone with Nico in tow. “The miscreants have retreated.”
“‘Miscreants’,” Percy snorts.
“Good,” the commander, Annabeth, responds. “If we leave now, we’ll be able to put some good distance between us.”
“Does that mean this is officially it?” Hazel asks, glancing over at Jason. “It’s… him?”
“It doesn’t look like him,” Nico says. “He looks a little… country.” Hazel elbows him in the ribs. Nico yelps, smacking her hands away.
“It’s definitely him.”
Piper.
Jason turns around and comes face to face with his best friend. She looks no worse for wear, though some strands of hair have fallen out of her signature plait, and she’s not quite meeting Jason’s eyes with her own, choosing instead to fidget with the cloth she’s holding.
“Piper. Thalia,” Jason says. “Someone needs to tell me what is going on right. Now.”
Piper speaks past him toward Annabeth. “It’s definitely him. I’ve never left his side. It’s Jason.” She takes a deep breath, then whips around the cloth she’d been holding. It’s a jacket that Jason now has no trouble recognizing—the attire of a royal guard.
“So that’s all of us, is it?” Annabeth muses. With a nod to the group of knights, she drops to one knee, her nose pointed at the ground. The rest follow suit, kneeling before Jason and leaving him reeling.
“Please forgive us for any rude, rough, or otherwise inappropriate behavior,” Annabeth says, “Jason Grace, heir to the throne of the kingdom of Half-Blood.”
Jason flounders, his mouth agape. “Wh—”
Heir to the throne? Of the kingdom? This kingdom?
“Thalia?” Jason asks, growing uncomfortable with the kneeling and turning away from it. She’s wearing a rueful expression, her smile small.
“It’s true. Due to, uh, certain circumstances, you had to be raised far from the palace. For your safety. For our safety.”
“Why did you never…?” ‘Tell me’, is the implied end to that sentence, but Jason feels a little shaky and doesn’t trust his voice enough to finish it.
“It’s top secret,” Thalia says. “Only me and this elite few know.”
The knights rise to their feet. Hazel regards Jason warmly, Percy interestedly, Nico very disinterestedly. Piper still won’t look at him, and Annabeth simply looks cool and collected.
“Your Highness,” she says. “Have you heard word of His Majesty’s illness?”
“Uh… yeah,” Jason says. “I heard this morning.”
Annabeth continues, “The country is falling into unrest at the news, and those who would threaten our peace are stirring. The men who attacked you today are part of just one of the groups of insurgents. We’re here now to guard you and act as escorts to the palace.”
“We’re deeply sorry for bringing this upon you so suddenly,” Hazel says, a hand on her chest and bowing her head just slightly. “But time is of the essence. We will explain everything on the way to the palace.”
“The only thing we need from you right now is for you to choose one of us to act as your personal guard,” Annabeth adds. “This knight will never leave your side and will provide an extra layer of protection. Who would you like to choose?”
Jason looks at each of the knights individually—Hazel, with her sincere smile, Nico and Annabeth, indifferent and stoic, Piper, who still isn’t looking at Jason, and finally Percy, who looks him right in the eye, his lips curled into the faintest smirk.
“Well?” Percy prompts. “Will I be getting my ‘thank you’ after all?”
Jason flushes, frowning. “You got a ‘thank you’.”
“Not a proper one.”
“It looks like he’s chosen,” Nico jumps in. “Can we get out of here, now?”
Annabeth looks at Jason.
“Is that your final decision? Percy?”
Jason glances one last time at Piper.
“...Yeah. I choose him.”
“Great,” Annabeth says. “Now we can go.”