Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Probatio.”

“PROBATIO!”

“5 more minutes.” Percy groaned, pulling his pillow over his head.

“Get up! Or you’re doing latrine duty for a month!”

All dreams of warm sunshine, white beaches and tanned legs vanished as Percy jolted upright.

“I’m awake!” He shouted, rubbing the sleep from his eyes desperately. “I’m awake!”

When he could see again, he wished he couldn’t. At the end of his bed was Jason Grace: blonde-haired, blue-eyed and with more muscles than Percy cared to notice; he was Percy’s own personal Gestapo. Right now, he was glaring at Percy, arms crossed in front of his stupidly large chest, the twelve lines of his tattoo bulging on his bicep. This wasn’t a surprise, Jason was always glaring, be it at Percy or some minor infraction the fifth cohort had made, although usually it was at Percy; through no fault of his own, he might add!

“You’re late.” That damned voice growled. “Again.”

Rolling his eyes, Percy threw back his duvet and fell out of bed, barely catching himself before he could hit the floor. He shivered at the cold floor, regretting yet again only sleeping in his boxers, and cursed San-Fran’s frigid weather – it was nearly summer Gods dammit!

“Morning to you too, Prince Charming.” He drawled, once he’d recovered, running a hand through his hair in a poor attempt to tame his bed-head.

“It’s 6:30.”

Standing with a stretch, arms pulled over his head, eyes closed as his spine gave a ‘pop’, he gave a groan of satisfaction that could only be described as ‘pornographic’. Only when he’d finished did he respond.

“Like I said, morning to you too, Prince Charming.”

Cracking one eyelid open, he could see Jason’s scowl deepen and had to repress the urge to smirk. Score 100 to 1 – Percy Jackson.

“You were supposed to report to the training centre at zero six hundred hours.”

“My alarm must be broken.”

Jason stopped glaring at him for one second to look at the alarm clock sitting on the brown IKEA side table next to Percy’s bunk, 6:31 am blinking back at them in bright red letters.

“Looks fine to me.”

Percy shrugged in response, ignoring him as he sauntered to the end of his bed, muscling Jason out of the way so he could bend over and open his trunk, pulling out his eye-watering purple shirt, jeans and white sneakers, freshly folded the night before. When he stands back up, Jason’s eyes flick up to look at his face, his expression conveying how unimpressed he was. Following his gaze down Percy scowls, then quickly pulls on his jeans, covering his boxer-clad butt.

“Just cause you’re always on my ass, doesn’t mean you have permission to stare at it.”

Percy swears he can see Jason’s eyebrow twitch and adds another point to his mental tally. If he can get Jason to start yelling before 8 am it’ll be a new personal record.

“I wasn’t – never mind.” A sigh, followed by, “Those aren’t regulation.”

Percy pauses pulling on his purple camp T-shirt, only one arm in the hole to glance down at his blue boxers peaking out of his waistband, little yellow Flounders just visible on the elastic. They were a stocking present from his mom last Christmas; a callback to when he was obsessed with marrying Ariel as a nine-year-old. If he hadn’t gotten rid of them when Gabe said Disney was for pansies he sure as shit wasn’t going to do so for Jason-Fucking-Grace.

Instead of saying that, he pulls his shirt on all the way and reaches for his socks.

“So what? No one wears tighty wighties anymore. This isn’t the 1940s.”

“I do.”

Percy’s brain breaks for a second at the mental image of Jason in Y-fronts, before doing a mental wipe and reboots a new save file.

“Course you do, Captain America.”

Another sigh. “My name is Jason.”

Grinning, Percy finishes tying a sloppy double-knot and stands up, meeting Jason’s glare eye-to-eye. This close they look electric blue, like lightning before a storm, practically sparking with irritation.

“Sure it is.”

“Just go already! I’m trying to sleep over here!” Dakota yells from three bunks down, head poking out from where it’d been hiding under his pillow.

Percy flips him off, affectionately.

“Jackson!”

“What?” Percy laughs. “I’m off duty.”

Predictably Jason groans in response.

“You are ‘on duty’ for the next nine and half years.”

“Even for good behaviour?”

“This isn’t a prison, Probatio.”

“Have mercy! I’ll be nearly twenty-five by the time I’m free.”

Percy’s grin widens and he claps Jason on the shoulder before he can reply. They’re nearly the same height, Jason maybe an inch taller, although Percy would never admit it. Before Jason can knock it away Percy slides past him, heading towards the door, calling on his way, “Hurry up, Jay, or we’re going to be late!”

He doesn’t need to see Jason to know he’s pinching the skin between his brows, staving off a headache. His laughter and Jason’s footsteps follow them out of the Fifth Cohort’s barracks.

From there it’s a short walk to the stables, and, feeling merciful, Percy makes it in silence, figuring he has the whole morning to tease Jason and it wouldn’t do to tip over from irritated to genuinely mad. Despite what the other Cohorts say, they don’t hate each other, at least not from Percy’s side. He gets along with everyone else just fine, but there’s something about Jason that makes him want to poke the sleeping dragon. Maybe it’s his straight-laced, by-the-books attitude, or the fact that daddy Jupiter means everyone bends over backwards to do as he says which drives Percy to get a reaction out of him. Either way, he’s convinced that under Prince Charming's exterior is a real boy just waiting to break free.

Percy’s reminiscing is broken by shouts of “My lord!” as various horses catch sight of him from their stalls. Mood boosted he jogs ahead, eager to say hello. This is his one power as far as he can tell. It’s also a secret. No way was he going to admit to being able to talk with horses; it was just too lame to consider. Gods forbid he was a legacy of Epona; he’d flee the Legion before admitting that. 

His jog is halted by a red-tinted ghostly arm which he isn’t quite quick enough not to run right through.

“Careful, Probatio Perseus. Do not spook them.” A soft voice growls.

Rubbing the back of his head sheepishly, embarrassed at his faux pas, he takes in the Lares in charge of the stables. Like most of his kind, he’s vaguely see-through. Unlike the rest, however, is his red hue and wolf’s head. Percy thinks it’s strange for such a foreboding ghost to have such a soft voice, but it’s small potatoes compared to how strange it is having a wolf care for horses and unicorns. Still, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.

 “Lupe! Sorry about running through you like that! And didn’t I tell you to call me Percy? Friends don’t use full names!”

The wolfman shakes his head but says nothing.

Undeterred Percy continues, “You still good to summon up a couple of chariots for us?”

“He said he would, so he will.”

The wolfman turns to Jason and gives him a salute and a nod.

“Centurion Grace is correct.”

Jason gave him a salute back, followed by a smile.

“Lupercus, it is good to see you. How are Tenebris and Lux?”

“Saddled and ready to go, as requested.”

“Good, good. Thank you for your help, it’s appreciated.”

“I am Lares of the stables, I do it with pride. You both do credit to Cohort 5 with your extra practice; it will serve you well in the race tomorrow.”

Percy scowls as Jason gives him the side-eye.  He can just tell Jason’s thinking that Percy is only here because Jason had changed his punishment duty from scrubbing tiles with a toothbrush to this.  

He throws an arm around Lupercus’ ghostly shoulders, hovering just over them so he doesn’t pass through him. Lares might not mind phasing through things, but it's still the principle of the matter.

“You know me, Lupe, I love extra credit. Course, we don’t need to practice do we Jace? Not with me pulling the reins!”

Jason’s eyebrow twitched at the new nickname, but he had to give a nod of concession at Percy’s statement.

“You are an amazing charioteer, better than most with ten times your experience, but don’t get cocky. This is your first race, you should stick to what you know.”

Percy resists giving an eyeroll considering Jason had been kind enough to compliment him. It was true; he didn’t just speak to horses but seemed to have a supernatural knack with them as well. Which was for the best, seeing as a Probatio would never normally get the chance to race during the Feast of Fortuna, never mind one who got into as much trouble as he did. And he didn’t want to compete, he needed to win. For his mom’s sake.

“You know me, I always go by the book.”

This time he did laugh as Jason glared at him. Stick with what you know? Nothing sounded worse to Percy.

A shiver passes through Percy as Lupercus slides through his arm and towards the end of the rows of stalls. Rather than get a lecture from Jason about military discipline, and following thousand-year-old rules he turns and quickly follows the Lares to where he’s standing by Cohort 5’s boxes.

The two horses inside are beautiful, one pitch black, and the other a gleaming white, like fresh snow or clouds on a sunny day. They greet his approach with enthusiasm, stamping their hooves and neighing loudly.

“Lord! It is good to see you again!” the one on the left, with a white coat, says. The other on the right is louder though, as it sticks its head over the door, bumping its snout into his chest, nibbling at the fabric. “Lord, you have returned! Did you bring snacks?”

Laughing he rubbed at the horse's neck affectionately.

“Tempest! Rapid! How are you both so eager this early in the morning? That keen to see me, or do you only love me for the sugar cubes I feed you?”

“I love you, lord!”

“You have sugar cubes?”

Laughing again he steps away to grab a couple of squares of sugar from the bag on a nearby shelf. Rapid, the black horse, devours them the second he opens his palm, and he has to push him aside so Tempest can have a few as well, albeit with a more dignified arch of his neck. Once fed, he steps into the stall with Rapid and begins checking over their tack; looking for frayed stitching, cracked leather or loose straps, although he trusted Lupercus to have done a good job already. His inspection is interrupted by Jason.

“Why do you call them that?”

Aside from the fact he’d asked them their names?

“Because Tenebris and Lux are terrible names!”

Jason’s lips purse, and he crosses his arms, “they’re not terrible. It suits them.”

Percy scowls at him. “Dark and light? Who named them, a child?”

“Yes.”

Percy looks at him oddly, “what?”

“I was six when I named them.”

Percy pauses his inspection to stare at Jason in surprise. He gives a nervous laugh as Jason's face descends into what Percy can only call a pout. It shouldn’t be legal for someone with Jason’s sheer muscle mass to pull off a pout, but somehow he did. A sliver of guilt forms, despite Percy’s best efforts to push it away.

“You know what? You’re right, those are great names.” To the horses, “Hi, Tenebris, hi Lux.”

“My lord!” Came two offended cries, and he made a mental note to get them more sugar cubes later in apology. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Jason relax a bit, turning to stroke Lux’s neck as well, a fond look in his eye.

“No, you’re probably right, they’re not great names. I had just come from the Wolf House where Lupa was called she-wolf and thought that’s how it was done.”

Jason sounds softer than normal, and when Percy inspects him from the side of his eye, Jason appears lost in thought. It suits him, the glare fading into something more relaxed, gentler than the Centurion he seemed determined to embody.

“What was that like? Training with Lupa so young?”

The question seems to break Jason from his reminiscing, and the glare returns full force. He quickly steps into the stall with Lux and begins a perfunctory check of the horses' gear.

“Hard.”

Percy waits for more, but Jason offers nothing further. Together they finish their checks in silence and, accompanied by Lupercus, lead the horses from the stable down the Via Principalis. It is over a mile to the Circus Maximus, the journey only accompanied by the sound of hoofbeats and horses complaining about their new names.

Chapter Text

Even from a distance the stadium managed to loom large and proud against New Romes’ skyline. Only two stories tall but stretching half a mile it was by far the largest building in the valley. It was surrounded on all sides by white marble columns which formed a portico wrapping around base, supporting enough seating inside to host the whole city with room to spare. It was a fact that Percy was intimately aware of, seeing as most of both retired and active legionnaires would be attending tomorrow’s races.

Together, he and Jason lead their horses to the western entrance, where the competitors can prepare. Inside, the floor was packed earth, with bits of hay and straw littered here and there whilst the smell of dung and horses lingered in the air. Around the edges of the room Herma statues filled alcoves set into the wall; each depicting famous charioteers from history. As usual, Percy kept his gaze at eye level; here’s hoping no one asked to carve his likeness when he wins tomorrow – that’s not something he’d like to pose for.

But beyond the painted ceiling and many box stalls, the thing that stood out the most were the gleaming chariots. Four stood side-by-side, each trying to outshine the other. Waxed, polished and sporting a fresh lick of paint, they were the Lamborghinis of modern Rome. Then there was Cohort 5’s. If the others were Formula 1, then this was the redneck rally car equivalent. Dented metal, exposed splinters and fraying paint reflected years and years of Cohorts 5’s lacklustre performances. But despite its rough edges, Percy couldn’t help but love it. Something about it reminded him of home,   

There was a lot of money in charioteering, but Cohort 5 didn’t see much of it. Dakota had already been accepting bets on who would win tomorrow. Sadly, Percy hadn’t been allowed to place down money since he was racing, but he’d still gambled five weeks of sentry duty on him winning. Based off the odds, he might not have to stand on a wall again, bored out of his mind, until he was old enough to retire to New Rome.

He turned away from their loveable, but world-weary chariot to help Jason with the horses, but was surprised to find him hitching them to a post near the water troughs. In his other hand were two wooden poles, each with a metal cap.

“What’re you doing?” He asked, jogging over.

Jason finished his task, then turned and tossed one of the sticks to Percy, who snatched it out of the air.

“Curse hunting,” Jason replied. “Follow me.” He then strode off towards the doors opposite to where they’d entered, leading to the track. Blinking at his back, Percy looked at the horses, but they appeared just as confused as he did. Shrugging he picked up his pace to catch up with the blonde.

Through the second set of doors the stadium opened up before him: a large oval, nearly half a mile across, surrounded on all sides by rows upon rows of seating. Percy had been here before, but mostly as a spectator, and only a handful of times to practice. It was still kind of terrifying, in a way that had Percy bouncing on the balls of his feet already imagining tomorrow’s crowds. Down the centre of the oval track was the spine; a long wall carved with horses, chariots and bizarrely dolphins; maybe it was a San Fran thing? This divider was what they would race around, the fastest to seven laps wins.

“How do you hunt a curse?” He asked, squinting at his stick as if it was hiding something.

“Like this,” Jason replied and promptly jabbed the metal tip into the dirt. Percy stared at him for a moment, waiting for the joke, but Jason continued to prod at the ground following some sort of grid pattern. Slowly, sure Jason was going to start laughing any second now, he did the same, covering a different section of the track.

“Yes, like that.”

Feeling like he was being hazed, but unsure how, Percy continued to poke and prod at the soil, as together, they made their way round the track.

After a while when no one has jumped out to laugh at the stupid probatio, he ventures to ask, “So what kind of curses are we looking for?”

Jason shrugged, but replied, “Nothing specific, any god can lay a curse, but the most common are Hecate, Pluto and Neptune.”

Percy hummed, as he tried to remember who Hecate was, but only drew a blank. Turns out there were a lot of gods and goddesses; half of them borrowed from other religions. His ADHD brain really couldn’t keep track.

They continued poking around, with Jason seeming content to continue in silence. Diligence is it’s own reward and all that good Roman soldier malarkey. That wasn’t really Percy’s style.

“So, why those gods?” He finally asked, eager to distract from the repetitive work.

“Hecate is a goddess.”

“What?”

“You said gods. Hecate is a goddess.”

Percy manfully resisted rolling his eyes. He’d only been here a short while, forgive him for not remembering more than the Big Names.

“I knew that.”

“Sure you did.” Jason snarked. “Well, as you must know, she’s the goddess of magic, so curses are naturally a part of her domain. And people often curse someone with their final breath, so Pluto is a common god to call upon. Neptune’s a bit of a different story.”

“Why’s that?” Percy asked, intrigued.

Jason looked a bit uncomfortable as he continued to work. “Back in 1906, one of his legacies set off an earthquake in the city. Destroyed most of it.”

Percy’s work slowed to a halt as he gaped at the other man. There was hearing about all-powerful gods, and the destruction they and their children could bring. Then there’s being told they destroyed your home. He’d been taught about the 1906 quake in school. Seen the photos of the city on fire during a trip to the museum.

He whistles in disbelief as he absorbs that information.

“That was done by a son of Neptune?”

Jason hesitates, then nods with a sharp jerk.

“Shen Lun. One of his legacies. So you can see why people at Camp aren’t his biggest fan. His temple is… never mind.”

“What about his temple?”

“You’ll see.”  Is all he says in response. Then Jason clears his throat, and, in an obvious attempt to lighten the mood, continues. “Neptune is also the patron of horseracing, so people pray to him when they want someone to lose.”

The segue is a bit forced, but Percy is willing to humour him, considering.

“Bit of an odd choice for the Sea God.” He says with a laugh.

A rare smile appears, stretching the scar on his lip. Percy can’t help but be glad to see it; normally the blonde has a face that could be carved from stone. When Jason speaks, he does it with a smile.

“Jupiter’s the god of oak trees, so stranger things have happened.”

Jupiter is the god of oak trees, and Neptune is the god of horseracing? Something niggles at the back of Percy’s brain, and he’s about to ask when there’s a loud thud sound.

“Nice. Found one.”

Distracted, Percy jogs over to where Jason is crouched, fingers digging carefully into the dirt.

“What’s that?” Percy asks, his previous question already forgotten as Jason unearths a clay slab.

“This,” Jason says, “is a curse tablet.” So saying, he blows onto it, pushing off the rest of the dirt clinging to its surface. Percy eagerly leans over his shoulder to see what’s written on it, then lets out a low whistle as he grins.

“No way!”

“Gross.” Is Jason’s reply.

Percy laughs, then reaches over to snatch it out of Jason’s grasp.

“Hey! Give that back!”

Quickly, Percy dances back, dodging Jason’s grasping hands. In a fake falsetto he reads from the tablet.

“Oh, Venus, please help me!”

“Stop that! Be careful!” Jason shouts, a frown ruining his handsome face as he stomps towards him. Gleeful, Percy continues to read, backing away.

“Jason is so perfect!” He singsongs, dragging out the ‘so’ until Jason’s twitches. “His eyes are as blue as the sky, and his hair is like spun gold. Make him love me as much as I love him. Venus, hear my prayer!”

With him finished, Jason stops right in front of him, hand held out expectantly. But rather than return it, Percy wiggles his eyebrows.

“What do you think would happen if I changed your name to Percy?”

“Don’t you dare!” Jason says, lunging forward, but Percy nimbly dodges holding the slab out and away.

“Bet they’d fall in love with me. I wonder who wrote it?”

“It doesn’t matter, we need to destroy it.”

“Aww, don’t you want to know who your secret admirer is?” Percy teased, grinning. “I bet it’s Kylie.”

“Who?”

 “Harsh dude! The pretty brunette from 1^st? She’s always staring at you during training.”

Jason pulls a funny face, “No.”

“No?” Percy grins, “Maybe it’s Sierra, then. Not my type, but she’s very handsy when you’re going through drills.”

This time Jason frowns and puts his hands on his hips. “No one from the Fifth thinks of me like that. Sierra just needed help with how to hold her gladius.”

“Oh no, Jason, I don’t get it! It’s just so hard. Won’t you please show me again?” Percy says in a poor imitation of Sierra’s voice.

“It’s not like that.” Jason grits out.

“Sure it isn’t. There’s one sword I’m sure she’d like to hol-“

He’s cut off by Jason charging towards him. Squawking indignantly, Percy tries to back-peddle, but this time he’s not quick enough and Jason grabs the curse tablet. In one smooth motion, he breaks it on his knee, releasing a puff of pink smoke and the scent of roses.

Percy stares at the broken slab, a look of bafflement on his face.

“This,” Jason says, voice laced with anger, “Is not a joke.” He shakes the broken curse tablet in Percy’s face as if to prove his point. “These can be really dangerous. You shouldn’t mess around with them.”

Percy holds his hands up in contrition, eyebrows drawn together. “Hey, Jay, I’m sorry. I didn’t think it was real.”

“Why would you think that!”

Percy shrugs, unsure how to explain it. Awkwardly, he gestures at the fragments. “It sounded like a silly note, like something a girl would write in her diary. I don’t know, I thought magic would be, flashier, I guess?”

“Clearly you weren’t thinking! You always leap into things without a care in the world!”

Percy’s shoulders come up defensively, hackles raised. “What’s your problem? I already apologised! It’s not like anything happened.”

“No thanks to you!” Jason yells. With a huff he spins, dropping the tablet and snatching up his pole. Then, he begins to viciously stab at the ground as though it was Percy’s face.

Percy lingers, poised for a fight that doesn’t seem to be coming. Feeling annoyed he begins to clear a different section of the track, making sure to keep a distance between himself and Jason as he does so.

They continue for a while, clearing the bend in silence, tension like a live wire between them.

But as time drags on without either saying a word, Percy can feel the simmering anger begin to fade, embarrassment taking its place. He knows he has a temper, but he hates taking it out on someone, he might, somewhat, consider a friend.

Finally, as they’re nearly finished the guilt is too much, and he pauses, leaning on the stick, the hot sun beating down on him.

“Hey, I really am sorry. That wasn’t cool of me.”

Jasons’ shoulders tense, and for a second he seems like he’s going to ignore Percy. Then he relaxes and turns to face him.

“I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that.”

Percy stares at him in surprise.

“What the hell? Why are you apologizing? I was way out of line.”

Jason seems to gather himself, head tilting up and posturing straightening.

“That may be true, but I should have been better than that. I’m your superior officer; I should set a better example.”

Standing there like that, nose in the air, he looks every bit a Centurion. It pisses Percy off, and before he can think he’s stomping towards Jason who stares at him in confusion.

“No way! I was being a jackass! I didn’t know what I was doing and something could have gone wrong! You could have been hurt!”

If anything Jason seems even more baffled, his eyebrows near his hairline. It spurs Percy on.

“You should be pissed at me. You’re always telling me off for dumb stuff.”

Jason glares at that. “It’s not dum-“

“Dumb stuff!” Percy interrupts, getting into the flow. “I took a stupid risk. You could have ended up with a crush on Octavian for all we know! Can you even imagine how awful that would be?”

“What does Octavian have to do with this?”

Percy waved his hands in exasperation.  “Come on, Jay, he’s obsessed with you!”

Jason stares, so lost with this conversation. “He’s not obsessed with me.”

Percy steps forward, jabbing his finger into Jason’s chest.

“He really is. Now stop distracting me, I’m giving you permission to yell at me. Come on, call me an idiot, or a moron. It’s only fair.”

The blond shakes his head, stepping back from the prodding. “I wouldn’t say that.”

Percy rolls his eyes and follows him. “Course you wouldn’t. A bumpkin then.”

“A what?”

“You know, a simpleton. A bumbling fool. A clueless city-slicker!”

Jason’s lips quirk upwards at that. “A city-slicker?”

Victory courses through Percy and he grins at the sight. Throwing his shoulders back he gestures at himself. “You know it. I’m a city boy. San Fransico through and through.”

Finally, the centurion fades, Jason reappearing in its place with a laugh. “I really don’t know what that means.”

“What it means is that I’ll be more careful. Next cursed tablet we find, I’m smashing it straight away!”

Jason studies him for a long moment, then finally nods. “Okay, I’ll hold you to that.”

Despite his promise, they find nothing as they approach the start line. It’s not like Percy wanted to get cursed, but he can’t help but feel a little disappointed by it. As if he can read his mind, Jason speaks.

“Don’t worry, there’ll probably be more tomorrow?”

“Really? Whys’ that?”

“Someone will sneak in tonight and place more. It always happens.”

“Then why’d we do this?”

Jason shrugs. “Caesar said-” Percy groans, here we go again.  Jason continues, speaking over him, “Cesar said that it’s wise to prepare the field of battle to suit your needs. We’re not going to condone curses, but we’re not going to make it easier for the other teams. Even if we only found one, that’s still one less problem to worry about tomorrow.”

That’s something Percy likes about Jason. Not quoting Ceasar -  that’s pretentious as hell. But the other man is honourable to a fault, and Percy can respect that.

“Yeah, yeah. Thanks for the history lesson. Now are we farmers, or are we here to race? Come on.”

There’s still some tension between them as they get the chariots set up, but the feeling has diminished.

Lupe summons three ghostly red chariots, each pulled by spectral wolves, and together they race laps around the course, trying out different tactics. Percy steers their chariot, the reigns wrapped around his waist, whilst Jason defends in the back. It’s a pretty good set-up, with Percy able to talk to horses and Jason able to fly, they make a damn fine team.

But there are times where it rankles Percy not to be in charge. Jason knows what he’s doing, but Percy can literally hear the horses saying they can go faster. They approach the bend at pace, one has the inside edge, giving them an advantage, whilst the other two bear down on their other side. As they round the bend, Jason orders them to pull to the central bannister, knees bent as he gets ready to leap onto the chariot in front.  

It’s a dangerous manoeuvre, risking a crash to disable their opponent, when they could instead pull out, take the longer route and free up the horses to gallop down the straight. He hesitates for a moment, indecision burning within him, but the confrontation looms in his mind, and at the last second he does as Jason said.

The second nearly costs them, but Jason isn’t the son of Jupiter for nothing, and he adapts smoothly, leaping through the air to land behind Lupe. He dodges a spectral sword, leaning so far back he’s practically out of the cart. But, then in flash he’s dodging forwards, ducking under another swing to slice the ghostly reins from Lupe’s hands.  The Lars releases them as though they had been cut, and Jason takes the opportunity to fly back to join Percy before he’s left behind. But the delay cost them speed, and the other two chariots turn the corner just ahead of them.

“Hyah!” Percy shouts, urging Tenebris and Lux to go faster.

“We’re trying, Lord!” They cry. With pounding hooves they overtake one red chariot, but the other has gained too much of a lead, and it enters the final lap a horses length ahead of them. Instead of contesting for first they have to fend off attacks from the chariot behind, only allowing the other’s to gain more ground.

It’s a close final lap, but they still come second. As the cross the line, Jason is already turning to him, face twisted with displeasure.

“Why’d you hesitate?”

Percy can feel his temper rise in response, but forces it down this time, unwilling to repeat their previous argument. Instead he shrugs, teeth gritted.

“Didn’t seem safe.” He lies.

Jason’s hand swipes through the air. “I know what I’m doing. Just follow orders next time Probatio.”

Percy can hear the sound of his teeth grinding tighter, but forces himself to nod.

“Sure. I love following orders.”

Jason glares in response. “Again.”

They continue to practice throughout the rest of the day, skipping lunch to keep going. Percy tries to let Jason take the lead, despite how unnatural it feels. And they do perform better, winning most of the race. But most isn’t all, and Percy can feel the pressure of tomorrow weighing down on him. He can’t afford to lose, this is too important. If he wants to see his mom again, he can’t leave anything down to chance.

They’re finally forced to stop so that the horses can get a chance to recover. With nothing but a few muttered words, they detach the chariot in near silence, only speaking when necessary. This is how it’s always been between them. Moments of comradery ruined by Jason always trying to control everything.

“Come on. We’re going.”

“Where now?” Percy groans.

“We still have to bring offerings to Lord Neptune.”

Percy glances over the other man’s shoulder to Temple hill off in the distance. He’s hot, sweaty and covered in dust. The last thing he wants to do is trek out of the city to burn sweets on the god of Horeracing’s altar.

“You go. I’m headed back.”

He can see Jason’s knuckles turn white as he clenches his fists, and when he speaks his voice is laced with irritation.

“We need his favour to win. You don’t want to offend Lord Neptune.”

Percy could frankly care less. He’s going to win tomorrow off of his own skill; he doesn’t need a god's help. Feeling burnt out, he spins and begins heading towards camp.

“It’ll be fine. Burn something on my behalf.” He says over his shoulder.

He’s only made it a few steps when Jason grabs him by the wrist, stopping him. Percy turns to glare at the other boy, pulling his hand free with a jerk.

“Perseus!” Jason begins, but Percy cuts him off.

“That’s not my name.” he snarls, his control over his temper fraying after being held for so long. “Look, Jason. I’ve had a long day, and I’m heading back now, you can’t stop me. Neptune doesn’t give a fuck about some candy. If he wants something, I’ll give him a victory. Nothing else matters. Now leave me alone.”

Jason stares at him, eyes practically sparking with his anger. But then he pulls himself upright, and his face smooths itself out, becoming blank. When he speaks there’s no emotion behind the words.  

“Fine. Do what you want. You always do.”

Then, without looking back, he strides away, headed towards Temple Hill.

Percy watches him go for a minute, then, shaking his head, he sets off back towards the Fifth cohort. He doesn’t have time for one of Jason’s tantrums. Right now he must focus on winning tomorrow’s race.