Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Beckendorf was so not a fan of the night watch.

He’d already had a long day, and all he wanted to do was tumble into bed and snuggle with Silena.

But no, he just had to get slapped with guard duty. Nothing ever happened at this time of night anyway— 

Clang.

Beckendorf whipped around, hand falling onto the hilt of his sword. A single grappling hook was caught on the edge of the wall. 

“What the—” 

A split second later, ten other grappling hooks sailed toward him. 

“Fuck!” Beckendorf swore, turning on his heel and sprinting toward the watchtower. Someone lunged at him, but he dodged around them and scrambled up the ladder to the top of the tower.

As Beckendorf picked up the torch and whirled around to cast it onto the beacon, a massive shadowy figure vaulted over the edge of the tower. Beckendorf immediately tossed the torch into the fireplace, jerking his head up defiantly when flames sprang up. 

The other man turned and watched as the beacon on the next tower was lit. And the next one. And the next one. In the firelight, his eyes gleamed an unnatural shade of gold. Beckendorf caught sight of the weapon in his hand—a huge scythe with a deadly blade curved like a crescent moon—and felt his heart plummet to his stomach. It was him. 

Beckendorf had heard the horror stories about Kronos and his barbarians. He knew his chances of making it out of this situation were close to zero. But Beckendorf was a true soldier of Rome, so he drew his sword and levelled it at Kronos. “Now Rome will know you’re coming.”

Kronos’s lips curved into a cruel, bloodthirsty smile. “Good.”  

And then he raised his scythe.

Two hundred miles away, Praetor Varus burst into the throne room in Rome. He bowed briefly to the Emperor and his council, before announcing, “Your Majesty, Kronos and his forces have crossed our southern border!” 

Around him, the Emperor heard his council gasp and whisper furiously amongst themselves. He lifted a hand for silence.

“Deliver conscription notices throughout the empire. Call up reserves and as many new recruits as possible.” 

*

“Quiet and demure … graceful and obedient … docile … ugh, what are the last two again? Wait don’t tell me … okay, tell me.” 

Grover groaned. “Come on, Perce. Refined and poised. The examination is in less than half an hour!” 

“Right, right, refined and poised.” Percy stepped out from behind the partition and presented himself with a flourish. “Ta-da!” 

Percy’s long-sleeved tunic was a deep blue, with simple sea-green stitching around the waist and the cuffs. Instead of draping it over the left shoulder and around the body, Percy wore his sea-green toga as a cloak, with the right edge pushed behind his shoulder and the other spilling over his left side. Grover smiled when he spotted the seashell clasp he had gifted Percy for his birthday. Percy’s tousled hair was only slightly tamer than usual, with a simple myrtle wreath jammed on top. 

“When will you learn how to wear a toga properly, Percy? You’re just asking for more criticism from Miss Dodds.” Grover rolled his eyes fondly, reaching up to adjust the wreath on Percy’s head. Percy was unusually tall for a sub—even taller than Grover.

Percy shrugged. “Eh, I’m used to it. Besides, it looks better like this. I don’t care what that old crone says.”

Grover snorted, giving Percy’s shoulders a friendly squeeze. “Well, you look gorgeous. You got this, okay Percy? Promise me you’ll behave and keep out of trouble.”

“Thanks, G-Man,” Percy said earnestly, before grinning wickedly at him. “But don’t worry. I always behave.” 

“Uh huh,” Grover dead-panned, before jerking his head towards the door. “You should head over. You know how Miss Dodds feels about tardiness.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Wish me luck.” Percy yelled as he dashed away, nearly tripping over his own sandals. 

Grover winced, and limped towards the temple to pray to the Gods.

By the time Percy arrived at Miss Dodds’s building—with a minute to spare, Grover would have had a heart attack if he found out about how many stops Percy made along the way—all of his friends were already present. Percy slid into place at the end of the line of subs beside Piper. 

Piper looked effortlessly dazzling in her elegant cream gown. Pearls gleamed in her glossy chocolate brown hair, which had been pulled back into an intricate, braided bun. Percy felt a pang of jealousy at her natural beauty—wonder every male dom in town was constantly throwing themselves at her. Not that any were successful. Piper had a type, and unfortunately for those male doms, that type was blonde girls.

“You look gorgeous.” whispered Percy.

Piper slid her slim hand into Percy’s and squeezed it. “Thanks Percy, so do you,” she looked him up and down, gaze lingering on his toga-cape, before raising an eyebrow, “But Miss Dodds is going to murder you.”

Percy shrugged in response and looked over Piper’s head to the end of the line. Nico, wearing an all-black ensemble, was trying hopelessly to fix Leo’s brown toga. Leo caught Percy’s eye and made a face. 

Percy cackled. At least Leo’s curls were just as untameable as his.

The doors to Miss Dodds’s building flew open with a bang, and the bane of Percy’s existence swept out. The instructor’s stern gaze swept over the line of subs, eyes narrowing when they landed on Percy. “Perseus Jackson.” 

Percy raised his hand. “Present!”

Miss Dodds sneered, before scribbling something down on the scroll in her hand. “Speaking without permission.” 

Somewhere down the line, Percy heard Nancy Bobofit snicker. Percy flushed. “Oops.”

Miss Dodds beckoned him towards the door with a crooked finger, “Come, honey.”

Percy walked into the building, Miss Dodds following behind and closing the door. She circled him critically, tsk- ing unsympathetically as she prodded at different points of his body. “Improper use of a toga, as always … and too tall and lanky. Not good for bearing children.” 

Percy pulled a face, but quickly schooled his expression when she whirled around to face him. “Recite the final admonition.” 

“Right.” Percy cleared his throat. “Um, fulfill your duties calmly and p … respectfully. And reflect before you act. This shall bring you honor and glory.” 

Miss Dodds narrowed her eyes at him, and Percy smiled down at her innocently. Yeah, that’s right. 

“Hmm. Fine.” Miss Dodds grabbed Percy’s wrist and pulled him towards the table in the center of the room. “Now, prepare the wine.”

Percy began to mix water and wine into a silver goblet as Miss Dodds continued monologuing. “To please your future dominant, you must demonstrate a sense of dignity and refinement. You must also be poised.”  

Just as Miss Dodds reached for the wine, Percy spotted the grasshopper writhing in the goblet. Oh Gods. 

Percy cleared his throat again. “Um, pardon me—” 

“And silent!” Miss Dodds snapped. 

Percy reached for the goblet. “Could I actually just take that back for a moment?”

Miss Dodds yanked back aggressively, and for a moment, they struggled over the goblet. 

And then the goblet overturned onto Miss Dodds, who released an unearthly shriek.

“Why, you stupid, clumsy—” she cut off abruptly, then started screeching and wriggling around. Percy watched in horror as Miss Dodds tripped over the pot of coals beside the table, then sat down hard onto them. The sub instructor leapt back up with a piercing scream and hopped about, clutching at her smoking bottom.

Percy looked around frantically as Miss Dodds howled away, eyes landing on the water pitcher. He snatched it up, dashed out the building doors after Miss Dodds, and threw the water onto her. 

The Gods must have had it out for him, because Miss Dodds chose that moment to spin around. Instead of drenching her burnt behind, the water splashed all over her face. 

Miss Dodds glared up at him with a murderous look in her eyes. Her tight bun was completely ruined and water was slowly dripping down her face, streaking the kohl along her eyes. She looked like a drowned raccoon, which would have been a funny sight if Percy wasn’t completely mortified. 

Percy bowed quickly, handed the pitcher back to Miss Dodds, and scrambled away with hunched shoulders. The other subs stared at him, open-mouthed. A crowd of townsfolk had gathered, drawn by Miss Dodds’s screams.

“You are a complete disgrace!” Miss Dodds screeched after him. “There’s no dominant in the entire Roman Empire who would ever take you. Mark my words, Perseus Jackson. You will never find a dominant here!” 

Around him, the townsfolk who had gathered began to whisper. Percy fled, ignoring his friend’s shouts behind him. 

*

Like the disgraceful coward he was, Percy retreated to the stables. 

Blackjack seemed to sense that something was wrong, because he nickered gently instead of shoving his muzzle into Percy’s pockets in search of food like he usually did. Percy threw his arms around Blackjack’s neck and buried his face in the stallion’s pure black coat, Miss Dodds’s final words echoing in his brain.

“Blackjack, why am I so bad at being good?”

Blackjack draped his head over Percy’s back comfortingly.

“I hate this. I’ll never be a proper sub. Miss Dodds is right, no dom in their right mind would ever want a disgrace like me.” Percy pulled away from Blackjack, tore the wreath off his head, and tossed it aside angrily. 

Behind him, someone cleared their throat lightly. 

Percy turned to see Grover entering the stables. The news must have somehow spread to Grover, because his face was sympathetic. Percy looked away, unable to bear his friend’s pity.

“You were right about the toga.” he muttered, toeing the wreath. 

Grover picked the wreath up from the stable floor, dusted it off, and placed it gently back on Percy’s head. “I’m really sorry, Percy.” 

“Yeah, well. Did we really expect it to go any differently?”

“You know what, you were right. Who cares what that old crone says? Any dom would be lucky to have you. You’re a catch.”

Percy smiled at Grover sadly, but before he could respond, the town bell started tolling. 

They exchanged a confused look, before leaving the stables to investigate. There was already a rapidly-forming crowd in the town center by the time they arrived. Three soldiers on horseback were circling around. 

Piper, Nico, and Leo were already among the crowd, so Percy and Grover jostled their way over to them. Nico nudged Percy and whispered, “You okay?” 

Percy nodded distractedly as the lead rider began to speak: “Citizens! I bring you a proclamation from Rome: Kronos and his barbarians have invaded the Empire!” 

Around them, the townsfolk gasped in horror and shock. Piper gripped Percy’s arm. 

“By order of the Emperor, all dominants between the ages 18 and 25 are to report to a legion base to assist in the war effort.” The soldier held up a scroll and began to read out names. One by one, each dom stepped up, bowed to the soldier, and took the conscription notice. 

Nico made a choked noise in the back of his throat when Will Solace, the dom who was courting him, was called up.

“Underwood, Grover!”

Percy felt like he had been plunged into an ice bath. “No.” Piper dug her fingers into his arm to hold him back as Grover started to limp through the crowd. When Grover bowed and began to reach for his conscription notice, Percy unfroze.

“No!” Percy tore his arm away from Piper and pushed through the crowd. “Grover, you can’t go!” 

He ignored the scandalized gasps around him as he pushed in front of Grover. “Please sir, Grover has an old leg injury—”

“Silence!” the rider glared down at him fiercely, before turning his gaze to the rest of the crowd. “This town would do well to teach its submissives to hold their tongues in a dominant’s presence.” 

Grover pulled Percy back. “I apologize for him, sir. I am honored to serve the Emperor.” 

Nico and Leo materialized on either side of Percy to guide him away as the soldier handed Grover the conscription notice. “Report to Camp Jupiter by the end of the week.”

Dinner that night was a tense affair. 

Juniper’s shoulders were hunched, and every time she looked up at Grover, her face crumbled. 

Percy kept replaying the scene he had come across when he went to fetch Grover for dinner. The alpha had been testing out his old bronze sword, but as he lunged forward, his leg injury had flared up and he had tumbled to the ground with a grunt. Now every time Percy closed his eyes, all he saw was Grover falling, Grover hurt, Grover bleeding out … 

“You shouldn’t have to go!” Percy blurted angrily. 

Grover flashed him a warning look. “Percy.” 

“There are plenty of young, healthy doms to fight for the Empire! This is ridiculous—” 

“Percy, enough!” Grover growled, his dom voice bleeding through slightly. Juniper flinched, while Percy shrank back in shock. Grover never used his dom voice.

Grover’s fierce expression faded rapidly when he saw their reactions, and he closed his eyes. “Percy—” 

Before Grover could finish, Percy stood abruptly and left the table. 

This couldn’t be happening. Not to Grover. Grover, who, along with Juniper, had taken him in when his mother died and looked after him. Grover, who believed in him even though everyone else in town thought he was a lost cause. Grover, whose leg injury meant he was heading into certain death.

No. This couldn’t happen. Percy wasn’t going to let it happen. Grover was good ; he was gentle and kind and cheerful and peaceful. He didn’t deserve to be shipped off to his death.

Percy closed his eyes, imagining soldiers bringing the news of Grover’s death back to them. Holding Juniper as she wailed in despair. Realizing that he had lost the only dom who would ever care about him.

No. Grover had so much more to live for. He had a life, a beautiful sub, a wonderful home.

… All things Percy didn’t have.

Percy was an orphan. He didn’t have siblings. He didn’t have a dom, and would probably never find one after the whole fiasco with Miss Dodds. Sure, Grover and Juniper would miss him if he died, but they had each other. They had Piper and Leo and Nico and Will. 

Percy took a deep breath, and opened his eyes again. He knew what he needed to do. Grover had saved his life when his mother died. Now, it was time for Percy to repay the favor.   

When Grover and Juniper woke up the next morning, Percy and Blackjack were long gone. And on his night stand, where the conscription notice had been, there was only a myrtle wreath.

Chapter Text

“Oh Gods, oh Gods, I can’t do this. I am so fucked.” 

Will stopped digging through his knapsack briefly to shoot him a glare. “Yeah, and I’m going to be too if they find out I’m aiding and abetting you. So let’s make sure they don’t find out. Here it is … don’t give me that pout, Jackson. You’re lucky that I always carry a supply of suppressants and scent blockers with me.”

Percy was halfway to Camp Jupiter on Blackjack when he realized that he was, in fact, a sub. An unbonded sub that was about to plunge head-first into a crowd of young, riled up doms. With no plan. 

Fortunately for him, his last-minute prayer to the Gods had been heard, because he crossed paths with Will on the way to Camp Jupiter.

Will had stared at him, arms crossed over his chest, while Percy explained his situation and begged him for help. After chewing Percy out for half an hour, Will had reluctantly agreed not to send him back and to keep his secret. As a medic in training, he was also able to provide Percy with suppressants and a salve that would work as a scent blocker. 

“You better put in a good word with Nico after this.” Will grumbled good-naturedly. 

Percy beamed at Will as he lathered the salve onto his wrists and neck. “Not like I need to, but don’t worry. I will be sure to regale him with tales of your camaraderie and bravery when we get back.” His grin faded slightly. “If we get back.”

Will’s gaze softened. “We’re in this together now, Percy. I’ll watch out for you.” 

Will probably hadn’t realized at the time just how much responsibility he had signed up for, but he learned soon enough, because the very first thing Percy did when he got to camp was instigate an all-out brawl. 

Okay, but it wasn’t entirely his fault. It started when Percy managed to trip over a stray helmet (dignified and graceful and poised, as always) and crash right into a huge girl with stringy brown hair. She threw him off with a sneer. 

“Watch it—” 

“Sorry—” 

“—runt.”

Percy narrowed his eyes. The girl instantly reminded him of Nancy Bobofit, but she was far larger and tougher looking. Still, he had dealt with his fair share of bullies—both doms and subs—back home. He wasn’t afraid of this girl.

“—Not sorry, prick.” Percy finished.

“What did you say?” snarled the girl as she grabbed Percy by the collar. Will tried to step in, but the girl merely shoved him aside with her other hand. Percy felt his hands curl into fists as Will tumbled to the ground. 

“Are you deaf or just dumb?” Percy sniped back. He could practically hear Grover’s voice in his head begging him to stop talking.

The girl cocked her fist back with a snarl, and Percy ducked. The punch intended for him instead landed on a short boy standing behind him.

The other boy, who was a full head shorter than Percy and looked a bit like a ferret, scowled furiously. Before the girl could even think about apologizing, he swung his foot up and kicked her back with surprising force. Then, he launched himself at her despite the fact that she probably had a solid foot and a half on him. 

Before Percy knew it, all the recruits in the area had been dragged into the fight. Fists were flying. Doms were yelling at each other and grappling in the grass. A few recruits were moaning, clutching at various extremities. Despite Will’s attempts to protect him, Percy still received a glancing blow to the head that made him see stars.

“Soldiers!” someone shouted, their dom voice ringing through commandingly.  

Everyone immediately froze. Percy instinctively ducked his head, but he didn’t feel too bad about it because he saw a few other doms do the same. The voice was just that commanding.

The man who had called them to attention was just as imposing. He had wind-ruffled blond hair and ruggedly handsome features, and he cut an impressive figure in his full Roman armor and crimson cape. Even without the cape, though, Percy was sure he would have been able to single him out as the leader. He carried himself with such confidence that even many of the doms around Percy averted their gazes.

A female dom stood beside him, wearing the same armor and cloak. Her black hair was plaited into a thick side braid that spilled over her right shoulder. Her obsidian gaze roamed the scene carefully, as if she were calculating the best way to take each and every one of them down. She looked every bit as stern and regal and intimidating as her male counterpart. 

Percy would get on his knees for either one.

Okay, what? Percy had never had that thought about any dom before. That hit to his head must have been a bit harder than he thought. 

Nancy Bobofit 2.0 immediately pointed at Percy and snitched. “He started it!” 

The male dom’s icy blue eyes immediately zeroed in Percy. Uh oh. The other recruits made way for the dom as he advanced on Percy slowly. Well, all except for Will—brave, protective Will—who stepped forward. 

“Actually sir, this was all my fault. I’m really sorry.”

Oh hell no, there was no way Percy was going to let Will take the fall for his big mouth. First of all, Nico would kill him if he got Will’s ass kicked. Second of all, this was Percy’s mess. Well, and that one girl’s. But Percy wasn’t a rat, unlike some people, so he stepped forward and put his hand on Will’s chest. “It’s okay, Will.” 

Then, Percy squared his shoulders and met the dom’s gaze head-on. 

The dom’s gaze drifted between the two of them briefly, before focusing back on Percy. He looked him up and down slowly. Percy squirmed under the attention, trying not to stare at the small scar at the corner of the other man’s plush lips. 

“I don’t need anyone causing trouble in my camp, recruit.” 

Percy dug his nails into his palm to keep himself from shrinking—or worse, falling to his knees—under the dom’s penetrating stare. 

“Sorry …” Percy winced at how meek his voice sounded. You’re a dom, remember? Get it together! He cleared his throat and deepened his voice. “Uh, I mean, sorry you had to see that. But you know how it is when you get those, uh, dom-y urges and you just have to kill something or fix stuff or uh, have a drinking contest ...” 

Percy could practically feel Will cringing as he babbled on. He definitely heard some sniggering behind him.

Luckily, the other man cut in before he could embarrass himself further. “What’s your name?”

“It’s Pe—” Percy cut himself off quickly. Fuck, that was close . “I mean, uh, Grover. Yes, my name is Grover. Grover Underwood.”

“Let me see your conscription notice.” 

Their fingers brushed ever so slightly when Percy handed him the scroll. Even that brief contact sent an electric shock up Percy’s spine, and he shuddered. Gods, keep it in your tunic, Percy. 

The dom scanned the document briefly, before handing it back at Percy. 

“Alright recruits. Thanks to your new friend Grover, you’ll spend tonight restoring the camp back to order. Tomorrow, the real work begins.” 

Behind him, the other recruits growled and muttered angrily. Percy shrank, gnawing at his lip and feeling his ears warm under their accusing gazes. Then he realized that the male dom was staring at him with narrowed eyes, and he forced himself to straighten up again. 

The male dom turned to his companion. “We should fetch the first aid kit. Looks like there’s already a couple injuries.” When he said injuries, he directed another glare at Percy. 

Percy gritted his teeth as Will stepped forward again. “Um, mister? I mean sir?”

“It’s Centurion Grace.”

“Centurion Grace. I’m training to be a healer. I can help patch people up, at least until the medic arrives.”

Centurion Grace grimaced. “Our healers left this morning with the other cohorts. You have medical training?”

Will nodded.

“Congratulations, you’re the Fifth Cohort’s official medic. Now get to work.” 

*

Training was brutal. 

At least his new bunkmates were bearable (read: not that girl who ratted him out). There was Annabeth Chase, a blonde girl with fierce gray eyes that Piper would have been falling all over. She was a bit abrupt with him, but not in a snooty or mean way like Centurion Grace or the girl he had gotten into a fight with. Rather, it was more like she was waiting for him to prove himself worthy of her time. The other girl, Hazel Levesque, was a full head shorter than Annabeth, but just as toned and fit. Finally, there was Frank Zhang, who was even taller and broader than Centurion Grace, but thankfully less intimidating.

When the four of them joined the line of recruits on the first day, the girl from yesterday immediately shoved her way over. 

“Hey shrimp. Ready to meet the Gods?” 

Annabeth stepped forward. “Clarisse—”

“Stay out of this, wise girl.”

Percy opened his big mouth, but before he could seal his fate, there was that commanding shout again. “Soldiers!” 

The recruits lined up quickly. The girl—Clarisse—drew her finger over her throat, mouthing “you’re dead, Underwood” before falling in line with everyone else.  

“You will assemble swiftly and silently every morning.” Centurion Grace said as he pulled his shirt off, revealing a very impressive physique ( keep it together, Jackson ), and picked up a bow and quiver of arrows.  “Anyone who acts otherwise, will answer to me.”

“Okay, tough guy.” Clarisse muttered under her breath. 

Centurion Grace turned, nocking an arrow at lightning speed and aiming it directly at Clarisse. (Percy tried not to drool as he watched the muscles in Centurion Grace’s shoulders and back tense). The other recruits scrambled back, but Centurion Grace merely turned the arrow skyward and shot it to the top of the massive wooden pole in front of them. “Thank you for volunteering, Clarisse. Retrieve the arrow.” 

Clarisse grunted. “I’ll get that arrow pretty boy. And I’ll do it with my shirt on.” 

As she prepared to leap onto the pole, Centurion Grace stopped her, lifting up two bronze disks. “Just a moment, Clarisse. You’re missing something.” 

He held up the first disk. “This represents strength.” 

When he handed it to Clarisse, her arm instantly buckled under the weight. Percy would have snickered if he wasn’t sure that each and every one of them were about to face the same embarrassment. 

“And this represents discipline. You need both to reach the arrow.” Centurion Grace handed Clarisse the other weight, which nearly dragged her to the ground. The other recruits suppressed giggles.

Clarisse growled at them and leapt upwards, making it up the pole a few inches, before ultimately succumbing to the weight of the disks and sliding down.  

One by one, each recruit took their turn trying to climb the pole. Every single one of them failed miserably, buckling under the weight of the discs. 

Centurion Grace watched them fall grimly. “We’ve got a long way to go.” 

The centurions drilled them for hours every day on basic self-defense, on sword fighting, on spear fighting, on archery, and on shooting cannons. Percy was terrible at everything. It didn’t help that Clarisse had made it her own personal mission to sabotage him: tripping him up, messing with his cannon’s support structure, gleefully tossing him onto his back with far more force than necessary during hand-to-hand-combat sessions. 

When they weren’t learning how to fight with weapons or practicing hand-to-hand combat, they were doing push-ups until they collapsed, dragging sleds weighted down with weapons across fields, and hiking up mountains while carrying a crate of rocks on their backs. 

Now, Percy was no wilting flower. He was taller and stronger than most subs. He’d never fit the graceful, small, demure archetype. But he’d also never undergone physical training. And it showed. 

While his bunkmates also struggled with the conditioning, they at least excelled at one thing or another. Frank and Will were naturals with the bow and arrow. Hazel wielded her sword like it was an extension of her arm. Annabeth was one of the best in the entire group of recruits at hand-to-hand combat. 

Meanwhile, Percy got his ass handed to him about ten times a day.

Every time Percy stumbled or got his butt kicked by another recruit (usually Annabeth or Clarisse), Centurion Grace would materialize above him with a disdainful expression, as if he were just waiting for Percy to throw in the towel. Percy had seen that patronizing expression all his life—from the male doms around town, from Miss Dodds, from Nancy Bobofit and her clique of subs. Hell, Centurion Grace didn’t even know he was a submissive and he was still looking down on him! Percy hadn’t left home, travelled across the country, and impersonated his best friend just to face the same kind of treatment he had faced back home as a sub. He had never let any of the doms and subs who pushed him around win, and he certainly wasn’t planning to let some uppity military man win either.

So no matter how bruised his pride was, no matter how much his muscles ached, no matter how battered his body was, Percy gritted his teeth and forced himself back onto his feet. Centurion Grace seemed unmoved by his determination, but Percy started to see a glimmer of respect in both Annabeth’s and Centurion Ramírez-Arellano’s eyes. The former started giving him little pointers and even offering him a friendly hand up when he got knocked down.

Determined to win Centurion Grace over too, Percy started waking up an extra hour early every morning to sneak out of his tent for extra conditioning. He’d practice with Grover’s sword, or run through the self-defense moves, or run laps. Occasionally, he would even try to climb up the pole again, to no avail. A few mornings, Percy would turn and find Centurion Grace standing outside his own tent, watching him with an unreadable expression. But the centurion never approached him or brought it up, so Percy assumed that he was in the clear.

Slowly but surely, he caught up with the other recruits and even started to surpass some of them. He was still very mediocre at archery, no matter how many tips and tricks Frank offered, but he started beating Annabeth in hand-to-hand sparring sessions one out of three times. Above all, his sword-fighting ability improved leaps and bounds. Once, he even managed to disarm Centurion Grace. The smile that had bloomed across Centurion Grace’s face—the way he appraised Percy with a new interest—made something foreign and warm curl in Percy’s stomach.

That warm feeling faded very quickly. One early morning, as Percy was sneaking out of Will’s tent with a week’s supply of suppressants and scent-blocker salve tucked safely in his knapsack, he ran directly into Centurion Grace. 

Percy flailed back, but Centurion Grace grabbed the tops of his arms before he could topple onto his ass.

“Oh! Um, sorry. Sir. Sorry, sir.” 

“It’s fine,” Centurion Grace said with a small smile. “You know, you’ve been making quite a lot of progress over the past few weeks, Underwood.” 

Percy tried not to preen visibly at the praise or look down at the large hands still clasped around his arms. “Thank you, sir.”

Centurion Grace’s eyes flickered from Percy to the tent, and his expression hardened. “You and Solace seem to be quite close.” 

Percy coughed awkwardly. “Yes, well, we’re from the same town. He’s a childhood friend.”

Centurion Grace’s face was completely closed off again. “Make sure it stays that way. There are no room for distractions here. If you start slipping again, I won’t hesitate to send you back home.” And with that, he released Percy, turned on his heel, and walked away. 

Percy stared at his retreating back, open-mouthed. Did he just imply that Percy and Will were … fucking? And threaten to send him home because of it? After all the work he had put in and all the progress he had made? And what in the Pluto was that entirely unnecessary comment about slipping again?!

Percy growled as he stormed back towards his tent. What an ass! And just when he started to think the centurion wasn’t so bad.

As Percy passed under the shadow of the pole, he stopped abruptly and stared up at the arrow, jaw clenched. He’d show Centurion Grace he was here to stay.

Percy tied the weights around his wrists and furiously threw himself up the pole. As usual, he fell back almost instantly. He stood back up, and tried again. And again. And again.

By the fifth try, his anger had tempered somewhat. He could still feel it prickling beneath his skin, but he forced himself to hone it, to harness it, to channel it onto the task at hand. Clearly, this wasn’t something he could achieve through brute force or sheer force of will.

Think, Percy, think. 

Percy considered the weights. Strength AND discipline.

The centurions were always going on and on about the importance of teamwork, of knowing when and how to work with the other legionnaires, of realizing the strength in numbers. Maybe … 

Percy threw the weights together behind the pole and used the cloth to drag himself up. Miraculously, he found that it was actually easier to shimmy his way up. He started inching his way up the pole methodically. 

By the time he was halfway up the pole, his arms felt like they were on fire. Every muscle in his body was screaming at him to give up. Sweat beaded on his forehead. Still, Percy set his jaw and powered on, Centurion Grace’s words driving him forward.

As the sun rose, he heard the other recruits start to emerge from their tents. They gasped and tittered excitedly when they saw him drawing towards the top of the pole. A few recruits even started to call out encouragement.

When Percy finally hauled himself over the top of the pole and pulled the arrow out triumphantly, the entire camp burst into cheers. He could see Hazel and Frank beaming up at him. Annabeth lifted her fingers to her mouth and wolf-whistled loudly. Even Clarisse looked grudgingly impressed. 

Centurion Ramírez-Arellano nodded at Percy with an approving smile, before poking her head into Centurion Grace’s tent. As the recruits started chanting his name, Centurion Grace emerged from his tent to stand beside his fellow officer. Percy smirked. 

Centurion Grace jerked back when the arrow landed at his feet. He raised his eyes skyward. Percy met his gaze head-on, and tilted his head defiantly. 

He was too high up to know for sure, but he thought he saw a ghost of a smile play on the corner of the centurion’s scarred lip. 

*

He didn’t run into Centurion Grace again until several evenings later.

This time, they crossed paths in the stables.

Percy had been regaling Blackjack with details of his climb. “I wish you had been there to see it, Blackjack. Hell, I wish Miss Dodds had been there to see it. Bet she wouldn’t call me a disgrace now.” He stroked Blackjack’s snout while the horse happily crunched away on an apple. “Actually, she probably would. She’d be horrified if she saw me like this, all battered and muddied up.” Percy snickered to himself. 

“Who is Miss Dodds?” 

Percy whirled around with a yelp, hand falling to the hilt of Grover’s sword. 

Centurion Grace was standing beside his own steed, a massive, stormy gray stallion named Tempest.

“Oh Gods, you scared me. You know, for a big guy, you move surprisingly quietly.” 

“Sorry. Who is Miss Dodds?”

“Su— I mean, an instructor. An instructor in my hometown. Never liked me much.” 

“Ah. Were you as much of a troublemaker back home?”

Percy opened his mouth to protest, offended, before he caught the twinkle in Centurion Grace’s eyes. Oh. He was teasing him. Well, two could play this game.

Percy crossed his arms over his chest, smirking as he leaned against the edge of Blackjack’s stable. “Oh no. I was far worse.”

The centurion grinned back. For a moment, they were both silent, just studying the other. Percy’s gaze traced over Jason’s well-muscled arms, his strong jawline, the tiny scar on the corner of his lip. He felt his heart start to race when his eyes finally locked with Jason’s.

“I’m sorry.” Centurion Grace blurted. Percy almost giggled at how flustered he looked, but he didn’t want to make the other man feel bad. “About what I said the other night. It was crass and uncalled for. You really have impressed me a lot, Grover. I don’t think I’ve ever met another recruit with your drive. It’s very … inspiring.” 

Great, now he had to go all soft on him. At least before, Percy could pretend like he wasn’t attracted to the dom because of his shit personality. But now … Percy’s palms began to sweat. Jason’s unwavering gaze didn’t help.

He’s waiting for you to respond; say something dumbass!

“I accept your apology,” Percy said, his voice sounding higher than usual in his own ears. “And thank you, but I never would have been able to improve so much without you and Centurion Ramírez-Arellano. You’re both great instructors. When you’re not yelling or glaring at me.” 

Centurion Grace looked a bit sheepish. “Sorry.” 

“And you don’t have to worry,” Percy babbled on. “Because Will and I are just friends. I’m a total sucker for blonde hair and blue eyes, but he’s got a pretty sub waiting for him back home.” Oh Gods, stop talking Percy!

Luckily, Blackjack saved the day by shoving his muzzle into the crook of Percy’s neck insistently. Percy broke into a fit of giggles at the ticklish feeling, turning and batting the stallion away. 

“Oh alright,” Percy said fondly, pulling the second apple from his pocket and offering it to Blackjack. “Here, you insatiable horse. But this is the last one, okay? I spoil you too much.” 

Blackjack nickered as if to say yeah, right, and Percy rested his forehead against the horse’s affectionately. When he turned back around, he found the centurion watching him with a soft expression. “Is he yours?” 

Percy’s smile faded slightly when he thought of Grover. “He belongs to a close friend of mine, actually.” 

Centurion Grace cleared his throat. It might have been the dim lighting, but Percy thought the dom’s face was a bit flushed. “Just a friend?” 

Percy felt his own cheeks warm. Was it just him, or did Centurion Grace sound a little too interested? He looked up at the dom through his lashes. “Just a friend.” 

Centurion Grace’s azure eyes darkened a bit, and he took an involuntary step forward, inhaling deeply. Percy stepped back, suddenly nervous. Was the centurion somehow picking up on his scent? No, that was impossible. He’d stuck to a rigid schedule with his suppressants since coming to Camp Jupiter. 

Centurion Grace shook his head and stepped back as well. “I’m sorry. For a moment there, you smelled …” He swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing. Percy forcefully tamped down on the strong urge to lean forward and bite it. “Never mind.”

Percy chuckled nervously. “Speaking of smells, I should probably bathe before bed. It was nice talking with you, Centurion Grace.” 

“Jason. Call me Jason.” 

Percy smiled shyly at him. “Good night, Jason.”

“I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow morning, Grover.”

Chapter Text

Jason wasn’t exaggerating when he said bright and early.

The next morning, they were woken up even earlier than normal. Apparently, the centurions had received word that they were needed at the front, so Percy and his fellow legionnaires were now marching towards Rome.

It was a rather dull affair compared to their days of intense training and conditioning. That is, until Travis and Connor Stoll started interrogating everyone and their mother about whether they had a sub back home.

The other doms immediately perked up. Percy focused intently on pulling Blackjack along. 

“I have a sub waiting for me back home,” Travis bragged. “Her name’s Katie, and she’s gorgeous.” 

Beside him, Connor rolled his eyes. “Please, she’s not waiting for you. She still hasn’t forgiven you for ruining her garden!” 

“At least I have a potential sub!” 

The other soldiers eagerly jumped in, describing their subs back home or, if they didn’t have one, their preferences. Percy felt the tips of his ears warm at some of the lewder descriptions.

“Percy!” Travis and Connor materialized on either side of him, throwing their arms around him. “You’re a strapping young lad! You must have a lovely sub waiting for you back home, right?” 

Out of the corner of his eye, Percy saw Will smirk behind his water canteen. 

“Nah. Haven’t found the right one yet.” 

Connor nodded sympathetically, while Travis clapped him on the back. Then, they turned to Annabeth next to him. “Annabeth? Any dashing young men waiting for you?”

“I like girls.” She responded bluntly, flicking Travis in the forehead, “And no, I don’t have a sub yet.” 

Percy made a mental note to invite Annabeth back home and introduce her to Piper. He had a feeling they’d get along swimmingly. 

Neither Frank nor Hazel had subs of their own either. In fact, they both seemed rather uncomfortable when asked, and Percy swore he saw the two exchange a furtive glance after the brothers moved on. Come to think of it, they seemed to have gotten oddly close over the past few weeks. He wondered … 

Dom on dom relationships were relatively rare, but definitely not unheard of. Doms tended to outnumber subs anyway, which was part of the reason why subs weren’t allowed to enlist. That, and the fact that society saw subs as weak, docile things whose only purpose was to cook, clean, and pop out babies. 

He watched closely as Frank handed Hazel his canteen. Their fingers lingered on each others’ for a few seconds, and they shared a private smile. 

Oh yeah, definitely something going on there. 

Not that Percy was judging. He was all about rebelling against societal expectations. Plus, if anyone respected the importance of secrets, it was him.

All of a sudden, the procession jerked to a stop. Percy was instantly on high alert, ready to whip out Grover’s sword. “What’s happening?”

Annabeth pointed ahead with a shaky finger, face pale. 

Percy followed her finger, and felt his heart stop. 

The village ahead was completely destroyed. All that remained of the buildings were a few burnt planks. Bodies were strewn about, with swords and spears and arrows sticking out of them. Beside Percy, all the soldiers had fallen silent, staring at the ruins with expressions of shock and horror.

“Search for survivors.” Jason ordered. 

The cohort walked through the singed gate and fanned out silently. Percy drifted through the obliterated village like a ghost. The sights he saw chilled him to his core—this hadn’t been a fair fight, it had been a massacre .

He found himself walking beside Jason, who had dismounted Tempest. “I don’t understand. The other cohorts should have been here.”

“Jason!” someone cried. 

Jason and Percy exchanged a nervous look and sprinted over. Centurion Ramírez-Arellano pointed down into the valley, which was scattered with the remains of the legion. Flags poked up out of the ground. The grass was littered with broken arrows and cannon carts. Legionnaires laid face down, surrounded by pools of blood. Percy felt his stomach drop to his feet when his gaze landed on a severed head stuck on a pike. Next to the pike, there was a body wearing a deep purple cloak. Beside Percy, Jason spotted the horrific sight and made a choked noise in the back of his throat, falling to his knees. “Praetor Varus.”

“I’m so sorry Jason.” Percy whispered helplessly. 

Jason stayed on his knees for a few moments, lips moving silently in a prayer. Then he stood, placing a hand briefly on Percy’s shoulder. Jason turned and pressed his forehead against Centurion Ramírez-Arellano’s, before walking towards the rest of the cohort, who were gathered together silently with their heads bowed. A few had their eyes closed, whispering their own prayers. Others stared blankly ahead with vacant, haunted gazes. 

Jason swung himself back onto Tempest. “Kronos’s army is moving quickly. We’ll make better time to Rome through the mountains. Move out!” 

*

Percy thought that searching fruitlessly for survivors in a massacred village and then coming across his fellow soldiers’ corpses would be the worst part of his day. Turns out, it could always get worse, because they walked headfirst into an invasion.  

One moment they were trudging along silently, and the next there were cries of alarm as an arrow struck Centurion Ramírez-Arellano in the shoulder, causing her to tumble from her horse.

“Get out of range!” She yelled, yanking the arrow from her armor. Everyone scrambled for cover as arrows began to rain down around them. Several flaming arrows hit the cannon cart attached to Blackjack, and it began to blaze with fire. 

“Save the cannons!” Jason yelled. 

The legionnaires swarmed forward, forming a human chain to pull the cannons out of the burning cart one by one. Percy kept a hand on Blackjack’s reins to keep him from bolting. Frank grabbed three by himself and hauled them off. Once they had saved as many cannons as safely possible, the troops split off. Percy sliced Blackjack free and mounted him, charging away moments before the cart exploded.

Percy was thrown off Blackjack from the force of the blast. He popped back immediately, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he grabbed Blackjack’s reins and pulled him towards the rest of the troops.

By the time he joined the rest of the cohort, half of the legionnaires had already set up cannons and the others were shooting at the approaching army. A phalanx marched toward them, their shields locked together, spear tips bristling over the top. Above, from the surrounding mountains, archers rained flaming arrows down on them.

“Take out the archers! Fire!” 

They launched cannon after cannon at the pockets in the mountain where the archers were stationed, while those with bows shot volleys of arrows at the phalanx. As the phalanx neared and broke ranks, Percy and several others charged to meet them. Percy slashed and stabbed and whirled, taking out enemies left and right. Beside him, Annabeth met him blow for blow. He could feel their archers behind him shooting arrows furiously, disrupting the enemy’s attempts to rally.

Finally, the remaining handful of enemies on the ground turned and fled. There were no more arrows raining down on them, either. 

“Yes!” Michael Yew—the ferrety-looking boy who had kicked Clarisse that first day at Camp Jupiter—yelled triumphantly, nocking another arrow. “That’s what I’m talking about!” 

“Quiet! Hold the arrows and the last cannon.” Jason commanded. For a moment, there was only eerie silence as the dust and smoke from the skirmish settled. 

And then the rest of the army emerged. The retreating enemies ran straight towards their reinforcements and were immediately absorbed into the new force. Percy felt his heart sink. Around him, his fellow legionnaires faltered. They were hopelessly outnumbered. 

The lead horseman trotted forward. Beside Percy, Jason stiffened. “Kronos.”

Kronos raised his weapon—a massive scythe that made the blood in Percy’s veins turn to ice—high above his head, and spurred his horse towards them. Behind him, his men drew their swords and charged with blood-curdling battle cries. 

Jason squared his shoulders. “Prepare to fight.” 

The other soldiers drew their weapons, and Centurion Ramírez-Arellano leaned down to Clarisse. “Aim the final cannon at Kronos.”

Percy looked down at his own sword and stared at the reflection of the dam behind Kronos’ army. The dam was badly cracked and smoking, with a giant fissure running from the top to the middle. Patches were half melted from fire. Clearly, it had taken a beating from the cohort’s cannons.

It was a desperate thought—there was a 90 percent chance it wouldn’t work—but Percy sprang forward and snatched the final cannon away from Clarisse. Ignoring her indignant “hey!”, he charged directly towards the oncoming horde with the cannon tucked under his arm.

Behind him, he heard the centurions and his friends all yelling his name. Or well, Grover’s name. 

“Grover, come back!”

“Stop!” 

“Grover!!” 

Percy fell to his knees about halfway out and hurriedly planted the cannon. He aimed it for the giant crack in the middle of the dam, sending a quick prayer to the Gods. 

“Come on, come on!” Percy muttered frantically as he fumbled with the flint and tried to light the fuse. 

Kronos was practically on top of him. 

Finally, the spark lit and the cannon fired off just above Kronos, whose horse reeled back. For once, Percy’s aim was true. The cannon lodged into the fissure and exploded with a boom. Instantly, the dam broke; chunks the size of houses began to fall and a torrent of water erupted out from the cracks.

Kronos wheeled around, watching in horror as a flood of water began to swallow up his troops. When he turned back around, Percy grinned up at him savagely. 

Kronos roared furiously and slashed at Percy with his scythe. Percy tried to dodge, but he was too slow. He gasped as the blade caught his right side, and fell back hard. Oh Gods, he was a goner.

Or maybe not. The ground around them began to tremble with the force of the water gushing towards them, and Kronos’s horse stumbled. Percy took advantage of the opening and scrambled up, bolting away from Kronos and the flood. 

He saw Jason, who must have been running towards him before he set the cannon off, staring up at the rapidly approaching flood in shock. Percy grabbed Jason’s hand as he passed him, yanking him along. Together, they sprinted back towards the cohort, leaping over the bodies of their fallen companions and enemy soldiers. 

The rest of the cohort—painfully smaller than it had been earlier that day—was already scrambling for shelter. Percy saw Blackjack, ever the faithful steed, yank himself out of Frank’s hold and charge towards them. 

Percy put on an extra burst of speed and vaulted onto Blackjack. He reached for Jason’s hand, but the water rushed forth, breaking their grip. Jason was swept further down until he slammed into a nearby rock and slumped over it. 

“No!” Percy cried out, spurring Blackjack downstream towards the fallen centurion. As they caught up to him, Percy managed to haul him onto Blackjack by the straps of his armor. Frantically, he looked around for shelter.

“GROVER!” he heard Annabeth scream and he whipped around, “over here!” 

Okay, there was a shelter there, he was saved, Jason was saved, and oh Gods the water was carrying them right to a cliff. 

Percy yelled desperately for help. Miraculously, an arrow with a rope tied to it landed in the water around him moments later. He was seriously going to have to sacrifice a whole bull to the Gods once this was all over. 

Percy snatched it up and started tying the end of the rope around Blackjack. Right as they started to go over the cliff, he nocked the arrow and shot it towards the shelter. 

By sheer dumb luck, the other legionnaires somehow caught the rope and managed to hang on, because they jerked to a stop in mid-air only a few feet away from the edge of the cliff. Percy clung onto Blackjack’s neck as they were hauled to safety. 

Blackjack crumpled the instant they were on solid ground. Percy patted him on the neck as he slid onto the ground, wheezing. Jason tumbled off as well, coughing up water. The other legionnaires started to crowd around them until Centurion Ramírez-Arellano commanded, “Step back everyone, give them some air. Solace? Look over Jason.”

She crouched swiftly beside Percy. When she saw how much he was shivering, she immediately tore her cloak off and draped it over him. 

Beside him, Jason had recovered enough to sit up with Will’s help. He stared down at Percy with wide, earnest eyes. “Grover, you are the craziest person I’ve ever met. And for that, I owe you my life. Thank you.” 

The others started cheering and whistling. Annabeth, Hazel, and Frank, who had pushed their way to the front to check on him, beamed down at him. 

Percy smiled, and started to sit up. Big mistake.

He cried out in pain and instantly slumped back down onto his elbows, clutching at his side. All of the nearby doms were instantly on high alert, nostrils flaring and growls building in the backs of their throats. It was an instinctive reaction to the sound of an omega in distress, the same reaction that Grover had whenever he twisted an ankle or Juniper accidentally burned herself on a saucepan. 

“What’s wrong?!” Jason said urgently.

Oh Gods, the slash from the scythe. In the heat of the moment, with all the adrenaline coursing through his veins and Jason’s life on the line, he had completely forgotten about it. 

Percy slowly pulled his hand away. It was stained red. The sight of his own blood seemed to flip a switch within him, because he suddenly felt all the pent-up pain and exhaustion and fear crash down on him at once. As he collapsed back completely, Percy heard Will start to bark out orders for supplies. 

The last thing Percy saw before he lost consciousness was Jason’s worried face floating above him, whispering, “Grover, hold on. Hold on.” 

*

The first time Percy woke up, he couldn’t move. He blinked hard, trying to convince himself to sit up, to speak, to ask for water for his parched throat, but instead he could only stare at the flickering torch beside him in the dark of the tent, until his eyes closed again.

The second time he woke up, somebody was breathing hard next to him. Not the panting breaths of someone after a tough training session, but rather the choked heaves of someone fighting to keep down their panic. Percy’s side ached so sharply that when he opened his mouth to reassure the person, he gasped in pain instead. 

“Grover— Perseus,” said the man next to him, correcting himself. Percy turned towards the familiar voice, unable to stop a pathetic whine from leaking out. Jason’s hand, which had been resting on Percy’s, squeezed. 

“Solace, he’s awake, he’s waking,” Jason called. Percy wanted to soothe away whatever was making Jason’s voice so tight and agonized, so he instinctively keened. 

Jason rumbled lowly in response. 

Will appeared above him, looking pale and exhausted. “He … he needs another painkiller.” 

“So give him one!” Jason barked. 

“It’s not— Centurion Grace, I’m worried about the way it’ll interact with his system, coming off so many months of … of suppressants.” 

“Look at him,” Jason snapped. “He’s in pain! You have to, you have to do something!” 

“I can’t risk it,” Will said, voice breaking on the word risk , “I’m sorry, but I just can’t. He’s been flooding his system for months—there’s a substantial risk of increasing his fever, of draining his body of the resources to fight infection, even of seizure.” 

Jason gently pulled Percy’s fingers up to his lips. The movement tugged at his injured side, and Percy whimpered involuntarily. Jason lowered his hand immediately. 

“He just has to hold on for another 36 hours. Just until he’s through the withdrawal.” Will murmured. 

"Centurion Grace?" said a further voice, and Percy felt himself starting to drift away again. "Centurion Ramírez-Arellano would like to speak with you.” 

In Percy’s last few moments of awareness, he watched Jason heave a breath. He placed Percy’s hand carefully back down next to him, and Percy slipped away again.

The next time Percy came to, he woke up for real. Will was in a chair in the corner, sleeping with one elbow on the table next to him. 

There was no one else in the room.

Percy tried to speak and only managed a weak cough, but it was enough to wake Will up. "Percy!" Will said, jumping to his feet immediately and offering him water.

“Will,” Percy croaked after chugging half the cup. He struggled to sit upright but Will pushed him gently down by the shoulder. “How long has it been?” Percy asked.

When Will didn’t answer immediately, Percy looked up at him. “Will?”

Will dragged his chair over to the side of Percy’s cot, sitting down heavily.

“Three days, Percy.”

Percy felt dread begin to creep into him, and he pushed himself up onto his elbows despite Will’s instructions.

“Three days—”

“I tried,” Will said miserably. “I tried to keep them all out, I swear Percy, I tried to keep your secret, but Centurion Grace insisted— he wouldn’t be kept outside, Percy, I’m so sorry—”

Percy closed his eyes.

“You were on such a heavy dose of suppressants,” said Will, staring at the floor. “I couldn’t give you more, not while you were so badly injured and still recovering … he pushed in here, with Centurion Ramírez-Arellano and Annabeth, and then—”

“They sensed me,” Percy whispered. His fingers clenched down on the sheets beneath him. 

“Yes,” Will said, gaze still fixed on the ground. “He stayed for a few hours. Your pheromones haven’t returned to normal levels yet, probably won’t for another week, so he could stay without risk of sensing a bond. But he sensed you, and then I had to—Percy, I’m so sorry, he ordered me to tell him—”

“It’s not your fault,” Percy said firmly. Will finally looked up at him, and Percy reached out to take his hand. “Will, you took so many risks to help me—giving me suppressants and scent blockers, hiding me all along—you’ve been more than a true friend.”

“Of course, Percy.” Will said, gripping his hand back. “You’ve been so brave and fierce and strong. Grover would be proud.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Percy huffed out a dry laugh, but stopped quickly when he felt the wound on his side burn. “To be honest, I’m afraid to go home at the end of the war and face his wrath.” 

Will grinned weakly. For a level-headed, peace-loving vegetarian, Grover could be pretty scary when he wanted to be. 

“Well, Jason knows now,” Percy said, trying not to guess at his reaction at learning that Grover—well Percy—had been lying to him for months, months of winning Jason’s respect, even his friendship. “But at least maybe I can stop it there—if you dose me now, it’ll only take me an hour before I’m suppressed again.”

“Percy,“ Will said, clearly unwilling to dose him so heavily while still injured. But Percy insisted, and when he swallowed the draft, he felt a flicker of hope again—he would be able to stay with the legion and stand by Jason’s side, at least until they’d sorted out the last of Kronos’ stragglers. And they would see that he had proved his worth, that he had earned his place among them, regardless of his orientation.

*

Jason came back in a few hours later. Percy hastily pulled himself up so that he was sitting upright, happiness and relief swelling in him. Jason’s eyes flicked briefly to the bandages swathed around Percy’s side. 

“Leave us.” Jason said to Will, who bowed and exited with a nervous look at Percy.

“Jason,” Percy started, relieved to see him whole and well. “How is—”

“Perseus Jackson,” Jason interrupted him. His eyes were focused on a point above Percy’s head, and his tone was eerily similar to the one he had adopted that morning in front of Will’s tent—cool, level, closed off.

“Yes?” Percy said slowly. 

Jason cleared his throat, still steadfastly avoiding his eyes. “Perseus Jackson, you have been charged with the crimes of identity theft, falsification of orientation, and illegal and fraudulent entry into His Majesty’s service.” 

Percy felt his mouth go dry and his spine snap straight. The movement jarred his side and he bit his lip to keep from crying out, desperately wishing that he could stand and face Jason, that he could force the centurion to look him in the eyes.

“In recognition—” Jason paused, and Percy saw him swallow harshly. “In recognition of the great service you performed for your cohort and His Majesty, you have been granted a pardon for your crimes. You will neither be prosecuted, nor given a sentence.” 

Percy felt hope start to rise in him. He gingerly swung his legs out from under the hospital sheet and onto the ground, but before he could muster the courage to attempt to stand, Jason put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. 

“Following the victory of Kronos’s defeat, we have been called to the capital.” he continued. 

“Well, it’ll be a bit tricky to move around like this, but I’m sure Will can help. What time do we leave?”

Jason’s jaw clenched.

“Perseus Jackson, you are dismissed from His Majesty’s service with a dishonorable discharge. As a submissive, your entrance to the service jeopardized your safety, the welfare of your dominant, and the well-being of every legionnaire serving with you. You are to return home and remain there.” 

Percy gaped up at Jason, but the centurion refused to meet his eyes. 

“But— but I don’t have a dominant. I don’t have anyone back home, no one would have cared.” Percy blurted out. “Jason, please, how can you just kick me out—”

Jason finally met his gaze. He looked furious, more furious than Percy had ever seen him, even compared to his first day at Camp Jupiter. “You are unfit to remain here.”

“Unfit?” Percy sputtered. “Unfit? When I’ve—” He cut himself off, not willing to hold the fact that he had saved Jason’s life over him.

Jason turned away. “You may have proven yourself in training. You may even have been of— of invaluable assistance in the battle against Kronos. But a submissive, among a crowd of military dominants …” Percy noticed that Jason’s hands were shaking before he balled them into fists. “If you had been discovered. If you had made one mistake, if you had gone into heat— you would have been— every soldier in this legion would have—” 

“I was careful,” Percy said desperately. Jason spun back around, eyes blazing.

“Careful?! Grover— Perseus!” Jason started to reach for Percy’s shoulders, but stopped himself. Instead, he pulled back and took several deep breaths to regain his composure. 

“Jason. Please.” Percy whispered, his hands twisting the blanket beneath him. For once, he didn’t care how weak or desperate or pathetic he sounded. All he cared about was that his heart was breaking and he felt like he was going to burst into tears at any second. 

Jason closed his eyes and turned away. “Perseus Jackson. You are to return home. It is— it’s for the best.” 

With that, Jason left. 

And Percy finally broke down. 

Chapter Text

Will brought him his belongings, helped pack them up, and provided enough painkillers and bandages to last for a week. He had wanted to ride back home with Percy, but Percy refused to let him. Will was the only adequate medic left in the legion, after all. 

Before he left to pack his own belongings, he hugged Percy close to him. “I’m so sorry, Percy. I’ll see you back home, okay?” 

The news had clearly spread. Even though Percy was back on suppressants, his fellow legionnaires gave him a wide berth as they prepared to leave. Even Annabeth, Frank, and Hazel avoided him. He caught each of them staring at him sadly at one point, but when Percy made eye contact with them, they quickly ducked away. Percy felt the lump in his throat grow. 

Jason was nowhere to be seen. 

When everyone had gone, Percy built a fire. Blackjack settled down close behind him. 

What was he going to do? 

Percy had to heal, and he supposed home was as good a place as any to do so. But he just couldn’t bring himself to plot the way home, let alone get on Blackjack. He didn’t want to go home, not yet, not like this. He wanted to serve the legion. He wanted to put his hard work and training to use. He wanted to stand at Jason’s side.

He wanted … he wanted to shove Jason down onto a cot and climb on top of him, to feel Jason surge up to kiss him feverishly, to let Jason claim him in a way that he had never wanted anyone else to. He wanted Jason to be his Dom, desperately, hopelessly, pathetically. 

Percy laughed wetly when he thought of the picture he must have made, a sub curled up and crying by himself over a possibility so slim it was essentially impossible. And crying over a dom too—not for the worry he had caused Grover and Juniper, not for the humiliation of a dishonorable discharge, not for the fact that he’d have to go back to failing at being a good sub who stayed at home and waited for orders. 

“Pull yourself together,” Percy told himself sternly. He wiped his cheeks and straightened his spine. “It’s time to go home and face the music.” 

And then he heard it. 

The enraged roar echoed off the mountainside. It was an all too familiar roar that made the hairs on the back of Percy’s neck stand up. 

Percy felt his heart crawl up his throat, and he scrambled to the edge of the campsite to look down at the remnants of the flooded dam below. 

Kronos was standing with four other barbarians. Percy watched in horror as a fifth hauled himself out of the water. As the last one joined them, Kronos pointed in the direction of Rome. 

Oh Gods, they were still alive. They were still alive and furious. If Percy didn’t get to the capital to warn the others, Rome could fall. His friends could fall. Jason could—

Percy swallowed down two of the painkillers Will had left in case of absolute emergency. He emptied his bag of anything but medical supplies, two days’ worth of rations, and his canteen, and leapt onto Blackjack. 

“Let’s ride, Blackjack.” 

*

Percy had to stop twice on the way to throw up, the nausea from the pain in his side nearly overwhelming him both times, but he forced himself to keep riding until he made it to the capital. 

He flashed his signaculum—the lead disc inscribed with Grover’s name and cohort that he had received when he arrived at Camp Jupiter—but the guards at the gate barely looked at it, already half drunk from celebrating the victory.

When he dismounted and demanded to see Jason, Centurion Ramírez-Arellano, the Emperor even, they laughed at him and shoved him onto the ground. Percy gritted his teeth, stood back up, and staggered towards the parade. 

Percy stumbled along until—finally—he saw Jason on Tempest and Centurion Ramírez-Arellano on Scipio, leading the rest of the Fifth Cohort. Despite the cheering of the crowds, they all looked downtrodden and miserable. 

There wasn’t anything else he could do, so Percy threw himself in front of the horses. Tempest and Scipio jerked to a halt as their riders tugged sharply on the reins. “Grover— uh, Perseus?”

“Guys! Kronos, he’s alive! He’s coming to the city!” 

Jason stared at him in shock for a moment, but then his expression hardened. “You don’t belong here, Perseus. Go home.” 

Percy gnashed his teeth. “I saw them in the mountains after all of you left. They’re coming here. You have to believe me, please Jason.” 

“Why should I?” demanded Jason. 

“Why else would I come back?” Percy challenged, tilting his head up and staring Jason down. “You trusted Grover. Why is Percy any different? Because I’m a sub?” 

Jason’s jaw ticked. Beside him, Centurion Ramírez-Arellano’s eyes flickered with anger. Interestingly, however, her ire didn’t seem to be directed at him. Rather, she was glaring darkly at Jason. Percy briefly wondered if she had fought to allow him to stay, and felt a swell of gratitude for the other centurion.

Around them, the crowd began to boo and shout and jostle forward, unhappy at the interruption of the celebration. Percy let out an oof as someone shoved him, sending him toppling into the dirt and out of the way of the parade’s path. 

“Stop it!” Centurion Ramírez-Arellano barked at the crowd, her dom voice bleeding through. “Get away from him!” 

Jason stared down at him with a pained expression, but when Percy mouthed “please” at him, the centurion looked away. Percy felt his heart clench when Jason snapped his reins, spurring Tempest onward. 

He stayed there on the ground for a moment, trying to compose himself.

If Jason wouldn’t believe him—and Gods, Percy tried to breathe through the knowledge that he’d lost Jason’s trust entirely, that there was nothing left between them at all—then he’d have to go to the Emperor himself. Maybe there was a chance, the barest, slimmest hope, that His Majesty would listen to him even though he wasn’t a dominant. And if not, at least he would be there to defend him when Kronos arrived.

Percy started when strong arms hauled him to his feet and practically carried him out of the crowd to the relative isolation of a nearby storefront. Percy propped himself up against the door and turned to face his attacker, trying to prepare himself for a fight.

Frank, Hazel, and Annabeth stared at him with grim expressions. “Is it true?” Annabeth asked, her face unreadable. “Is Kronos really coming?” 

Percy swallowed. There were so many things he wanted to say to them, so many things to apologize for and to explain, but he knew that now wasn't the time. He kept it simple. "Yes."

Annabeth’s gray eyes sharpened, the way they always did at the start of a sparring session when she was assessing her opponent and cataloguing their strengths and weaknesses. Beside her, Frank and Hazel exchanged determined looks. “What’s our plan?” 

*

Hazel made them try the civil way first. 

Unfortunately—or fortunately in every situation but this one—the Emperor’s palace guards were of a much higher caliber than the ones at the city gates. 

“No one enters the palace without an invitation from a member of the court,” said the first guard, a muscular man with dark hair and eyes. 

“It’s urgent!” Annabeth demanded, waving her signaculum in the guards’ faces. “We’re legionnaires from the Fifth Cohort. We’ve come straight from the battlefront.” 

The other guard—a lanky blonde dom with pale blue eyes—rolled his eyes. “Everyone thinks it’s urgent. His Majesty has neither the time nor need to meet with some dirty footsoldiers. You’re going to need a better excuse than that.” 

“Kronos is on his way here, right now!” Frank said angrily. “Are you going to be the ones who decide not to warn the Emperor?”

The taller guard hesitated, but the blonde one snorted. “Please.” 

“He’s alive!” Hazel insisted. 

The blonde guard sneered, advancing on Hazel menacingly. “And what proof do you have?”

“Enough, Octavian,” said the taller guard, holding his companion back. “You four, get out of here. Sober up before you get yourselves in real trouble.”

Annabeth growled, but Percy pulled her away. They regrouped in a nearby alley. “How are we supposed to protect the Emperor if we can’t even get inside the palace?” 

Percy looked around frustratedly. He did not ride for an entire day straight and beg Jason for help (and get painfully rejected in the process) just to get shut out of the palace. There had to be another way in.

And then his eyes landed on the sub boutique shop down the street.

A slow smile spread across his face. “You’re probably not going to like this, but I have an idea.” 

The others perked up, ready to leap into action. Percy felt his throat close up for a moment, unbearably grateful that, even though his friends now knew his true orientation, they still believed in him enough to listen to what he had to say. 

He shook himself. No time for sentimentality now. Percy led them to the shop, biting back a grin at the looks of trepidation on their faces when they saw the racks of sub attire. Frank broke the window with a murmured apology, and they stepped in.

Annabeth turned to glare daggers at Percy for a second, before turning and plucking a sleeveless aqua blue gown from the rack. Hazel followed her lead, selecting a long-sleeved lavender dress adorned with golden ribbons. 

Frank started toward the togas, but Percy held him back. “Sorry big guy, but I don’t think you’re going to pass for a sub. We’ll have to think of some way to sneak you in with us.” 

Frank blushed. “Right.” 

As the girls changed, Percy snagged a vial of pheromone enhancement spray from a shelf and doused his wrists and neck liberally. 

Annabeth and Hazel presented themselves for Percy’s approval. Percy snatched two headpieces—an ivy wreath and a golden headband studded with pearls—and handed them to Annabeth and Hazel respectively. “Perfect.”

When he turned back around, he noticed that Frank was staring at Hazel with unabashed interest. 

Meanwhile, Annabeth admired herself in the mirror, spinning a little back and forth. “I’d mate me if I were a sub.” she concluded, nodding in satisfaction.

Maybe it was the fact that he was so physically exhausted and emotionally drained, but Percy started cracking up. Frank and Hazel joined in.

“What?” Annabeth said, affronted. “You wouldn’t?” 

They only laughed harder when Annabeth glared at them.

“All right Narcissus, hold still,” Percy said between giggles. He rubbed his wrists together, then slowly approached Annabeth. Her smile faded slightly as he came up close and slowly wiped his wrists against the low, vulnerable points on Annabeth’s neck. It was oddly intimate, and Percy quickly retreated once the job was done. He spritzed his wrists again with the pheromone enhancement spray, rubbed them together, and moved on to Hazel.  

“This is a good plan,” Annabeth said once he had finished. 

Percy slipped the glass vial into his pocket, just in case, and gave her a small smile. “We’ll see.” 

*

They found the sub entrance to the palace and waited. 

Luckily for them, it didn’t take long for a drunk sub to stumble out. 

The sub beamed at them on her way out. “Come to join the party?” she slurred. “You’re a bit late. The wine is almost all gone. I’m going to fetch some more.” 

Percy quickly caught the door, motioning at the others to enter. 

“Victory!” one of the subs was yelling. “Victory for the—“ she paused, hiccuping, “the beautiful Centurions of the Fifth Cohort.” 

“I’d get on my knees for Centurion Grace in an instant.” one of the other subs declared, holding her goblet aloft. 

Percy flushed. Good to know that others shared the same opinion. Maybe he wasn’t such a bad sub after all. 

“You lot look like you’re in need of a drink,” said one of the subs. “Have you been off following the troops?” 

“Well of course,” Percy giggled conspiratorially, fluttering his eyelashes. He could feel his fellow legionnaires staring at him as if he had grown a second head, but he ignored them. 

“Make a decent wage?” asked another, snickering. 

Frank made an affronted noise, and the subs blinked blearily up at him, as if noticing him for the first time.  

“Oooh, a soldier. What’s he doing here?” The same sub asked, sashaying forward and eyeing Frank like he wanted to climb the dom like a tree. 

“Uh … well um—” Percy stuttered, trying to think of an excuse and drawing a blank. 

Luckily, Hazel’s quick thinking saved them. “We were actually trying to find a room,” she purred, stretching up to press a kiss into the corner of Frank’s lips. Frank’s entire face turned bright red. 

Percy recovered quickly. “Yes,” he said, resting a hand on Frank’s chest and wiggling his eyebrows mischievously at the subs, “Our man here helped win a major victory, so now we’re rewarding him.” 

The palace subs giggled uncontrollably, and one of the girls led them to a door with a salacious wink, “Have fun!” 

They quickly exited to the main palace and Percy closed the door behind him with a soft click. Compared to the joyous ruckus of the palace sub party, the silence of the abandoned main palace was unsettling. 

“That was close.” Annabeth said, before nudging Hazel. “Good thinking.” 

Hazel shifted from side to side and exchanged a look with Frank, who was still blushing. “Thanks.” 

Annabeth looked between the two of them with sharp eyes. 

“Kronos is probably after the Emperor. We should go.” Percy cut in. He swore he saw Hazel throw him a grateful look as they turned and set off into the dark palace.

*

As he hid behind the pillar, waiting tensely for Annabeth’s signal, Percy forced himself to take a deep, steadying breath.

He could do this. He’d faced down Kronos once before. Sure, he also got slashed across the side, but this time would be different. This time, he was prepared.

As he exhaled, a hand suddenly fell on his shoulder. His eyes shot open, adrenaline pumping—

Jason clasped his other hand over Percy’s mouth, muffling his gasp. Percy blinked up at Jason, taking in his furrowed brows, the serious set of his mouth, the sharp lines of his cheekbones. Anything to distract from his immediate and intense focus on the feeling of his lips pressed against Jason’s calloused palm. Nevertheless, Percy’s eyes flicked downwards involuntarily, and Jason withdrew his hand quickly. 

“You came,” Percy breathed. Relief flooded his veins, washing away all his other feelings—his fear of Kronos, his worry for his friends, the unbearable tension of hiding from the men guarding the doors around the corner—as he stared up at Jason. He risked a glance to his left, and saw that Centurion Ramírez-Arellano was lurking behind a support column nearby, listening intently. "Both of you."

When he turned back, he found Jason’s eyes boring into his. “I knew you wouldn’t lie about this.”

“Jason,” Percy whispered. “I never wanted to lie to you about who I was. I just … I just wanted to— to earn a place by you—” he cut off when he heard shuffling in the corridor. 

They breathed quietly together, listening. Percy was overly aware of the warmth radiating off Jason’s body as he hunched in close.

When the sound of footsteps faded, Percy slumped slightly and exhaled a quiet sigh of relief. Jason jerked backward abruptly, eyes wide.

“Perseus—”

“Percy.” 

“Percy. You’re …” Jason pressed back in, gently tilting Percy’s chin to the side and nosing into his neck, drinking in his scent deeply, and for a second Percy dared to hope, to close his eyes and bask in the rightness of it all, but then he heard Annabeth’s signal and he pushed at Jason’s shoulders frantically, hissing, “Now, we have to go now.” 

“No,” Jason murmured, arms coming up to box him in further, “Percy.” he breathed, lips inches away from Percy’s, breath hot on his cheek. Percy felt his knees go weak.

But then he caught a flurry of movement in the corner of his eye as Centurion Ramírez-Arellano leapt out from behind the pillar, sword flashing. “Kronos,” he managed, pressing more insistently at Jason’s chest. The name was like a shock of cold water to Jason, and he shook his head and stepped away. Percy slipped out from between Jason and the pillar, grabbed the dom’s hand and pulled him along.

When they turned the corner, they found the others locked in fierce battles with the men guarding the doors to the balcony. Two of them were out of commission already, slumped on the ground. Hazel and Frank were dancing around a third, their training plainly evident in their fluid, controlled movements.

“Go!” Annabeth called from where she and Centurion Ramírez-Arellano were facing off against a huge warrior with slicked-back hair and a mighty javelin.

Jason and Percy sprinted through the hallway, trusting the others to handle Kronos’s men. When they reached the door, Jason paused and brought Percy’s hand to his lips for a swift kiss. Percy closed his eyes and relished the feeling, just for a second. 

“Let’s go,” he said, and Jason nodded. Together, they charged through the doors to the balcony.

Just in time. 

Kronos must have heard the commotion outside, because he was poised to strike down the Emperor, scythe raised high. Another one of his cronies watched on gleefully. 

Jason caught the strike with his gladius, gritting his teeth at the force of the blow, and pushed Kronos away. Kronos snarled furiously, hurling himself at Jason with blinding speed. 

Kronos’s guard attempted to get behind Jason, but Percy leapt forward to intercept him. Their swords clashed in a violent shower of sparks, and the other man’s harsh golden eyes narrowed when Percy shoved him back. Percy let his instincts take over, dodging and slashing and whirling faster than he ever had. He was vaguely aware of Jason and Kronos locked in a deadly duel beside him, both moving like whirlwinds. 

Frank and Hazel exploded through the door, panting and sweating. Frank’s face was bruised and Hazel’s dress was ripped in several places, but they seemed relatively unscathed. 

“Get the Emperor out of here!” Jason yelled as he sidestepped a slash and jabbed under Kronos’s guard. 

Frank ran to the Emperor while Hazel joined Percy. Together, they were able to subdue Kronos’s final man. When they turned around, Frank already had the Emperor thrown over his broad shoulder.

“Let’s go!” Frank yelled, and he and Hazel dashed to the balcony doors and back into the palace. 

“NO!” Percy whipped around at Kronos’s howl of rage. Jason was struggling to hold the enraged barbarian at bay, and Percy could tell that it was only a matter of seconds before Kronos overpowered him.

When Hazel realized that Percy wasn’t with them, she motioned for him to follow urgently, “Come on!” 

But Percy couldn’t turn away. He watched with horror as Kronos struck with lightning speed, slashing his scythe across Jason’s breastplate so hard that he cleaved a gash, before kicking him square in the chest. Jason stumbled back, and Kronos stalked towards him with a murderous glint in his eyes. 

“Run!” Percy screamed at Hazel, before launching himself at Kronos. 

Kronos turned just in time to deflect the strike, staggering at the force behind the blow. 

“Remember me?” Percy taunted as they circled each other. 

Kronos’s eyes widened with recognition, then immediately narrowed again as he stared down at Percy with a look of pure hatred. “The soldier from the mountains.” 

“Yeah, that’s right. Did you enjoy your swim?”

Kronos’s nostrils flared, but then a cruel smile spread slowly across his face as he caught Percy’s scent. “The Emperor must be truly desperate to resort to enlisting uppity submissives,” he appraised Percy with hunger, “I think I’ll keep you as a pet after I’m done with the Emperor so that you learn a sub’s proper place in this world.” 

Percy narrowed his eyes. “Come and get me then.” Then, he turned on his heel and sprinted out the doors to the balcony.

His friends were nowhere in sight. As he ran down the corridor, he spotted the limp body of the warrior that Reyna and Annabeth had been fighting earlier, and felt relief wash over him. 

That relief quickly turned to dread when he heard Kronos tearing after him. Percy turned, ducking just as Kronos’s scythe swung towards him. He dodged and weaved around the enraged dom, tossing his sword aside and desperately scrambling up one of the pillars to get out of Kronos’s reach. 

In hindsight, he realized that this probably wasn’t the smartest move, because Kronos just hacked at the base of the column, until it finally tipped over. Percy screamed when the beam crashed straight through the window. As he hoisted himself up onto the beam, Kronos picked up his discarded sword and tossed it carelessly out the window. Fury surged through him as he watched Grover’s sword disappear into the night. 

While Kronos climbed up onto the beam after him, Percy channeled his rage into a leap, catching the edge of the roof and pulling himself up. When he made it onto the top of the roof, he briefly hunched over with his hands on his knees, cursing himself for ditching his only weapon. Every time Percy heaved in a ragged breath it felt like he was getting stabbed with a jagged knife. Distantly, he realized that the carefully-stitched wound on his right side had reopened during all the action, and that his tunic was wet with blood.

Percy desperately tried to clear his mind. He could hear Jason’s voice in his head, commanding him to stay calm and assess the situation. Okay, he was badly injured, weaponless, and Kronos was probably two seconds from—

On cue, Kronos burst through the roof behind him. Percy yelped in surprise, scrambling backwards. Scratch that, zero seconds.

Kronos advanced towards him slowly, lips curling into an arrogant smirk as he took in Percy’s bloody side. 

Percy searched his body desperately to try and find a hidden weapon he knew he didn’t have. The only thing he found was the vial of pheromone enhancement liquid in his pocket. 

Kronos chuckled darkly. “Looks like you’re all out of options, sub.” 

As Kronos brought his scythe downward for the killing blow, time seemed to slow down. Percy recalled one of the first self-defense moves that Jason had taught them, and his body moved on pure instinct. He dodged to the right and lunged in close, under Kronos’s guard. As Percy swept his leg around and behind the taller man’s ankle, he smashed the glass vial directly into Kronos’s face as hard as he could. 

Kronos landed on his back with a bone-chilling howl, scythe slipping from his hands as he grasped at his ruined face. Somehow, he managed to lurch back to his feet and stumble about blindly, one hand still clutching his face while the other grabbed wildly for Percy. Blood poured out from behind his hand as he roared curses and insults. 

Percy scurried out of range fearfully. He watched with wide eyes as Kronos slipped on his own weapon and tumbled off the top of the roof with a final scream. Percy closed his eyes, wincing when he distantly heard the sound of Kronos’s body crashing onto the pavement below. 

Oh Gods, it was finally over. Percy immediately collapsed. Everything hurt. He wanted to curl up into a ball and sleep for a week. 

“Percy?” A familiar voice called below him. “Percy, where are you?!” 

Percy dragged himself to the hole Kronos had ripped on the ceiling. “Jason,” he croaked out weakly. “M’up here.”

Moments later, Jason was directly beneath him, staring up at him in shock. “Percy?!” 

“It’s done. Kronos is dead.” 

“Oh thank the gods, you’re okay.”

“Define okay.” 

Jason’s face was pinched with worry. “We need to get you to Will. Can you jump down?” 

Percy’s vision was swimming. He squeezed his eyes shut. “I— I don’t know if I can.”

“Can you try? I’ll catch you.” 

“Promise?” Percy’s voice sounded small and vulnerable even to his ears, but he was in so much pain he didn’t even care. 

Jason stared up at him earnestly. “I promise.”

Percy used the last of his strength to maneuver himself around and roll into the hole. 

Jason caught him with a grunt, and lowered his prone form gently down onto the floor. He brushed a lock of Percy’s hair away from his sweaty forehead, and Percy shivered at the tender touch. 

“You caught me.”

“I said I would, didn’t I?” Jason said as he looked Percy over. His expression darkened as he catalogued Percy’s injuries, and Percy realized faintly that this was it—that he was going to die. Black spots danced in his vision and his breaths were shallow. Too shallow. 

Well, Percy supposed there were worse ways to go than being fussed over by a dashing dom. But first, he needed to make things right between him and said dom.

 “I’m sorry,” Percy choked out, “For—for lying to you about who I was—”

Jason shushed him gently, ripping his cloak off his shoulders and pressing it firmly to Percy’s side to staunch the bleeding. 

“Please forgive me,” Percy begged before his head lolled back. The last thing he heard was Jason frantically shouting his name—his true name—before the world faded to black again.

Chapter Text

When Percy woke up and saw Will sitting at his bedside, he was overcome with a strong sense of déjà vu. 

“I’m getting sick of—” he started to joke, but cut off with a groan, clutching at his freshly-bandaged side. 

“Pulling crazy stunts and waking up like this? Yeah me too.” Will joked as he helped prop Percy up against the headboard.

“What … happened?” Percy muttered. “Is everyone okay?”

“The Emperor is safe,” Will assured him, “A little shocked, but fine. Frank and Hazel had a few cuts and bruises, nothing major. Annabeth’s shoulder was dislocated and Centurion Ramírez-Arellano got a nasty cut on her leg, but they’ll both make full recoveries.” 

Will paused as Percy drank in this information. 

“They found Kronos’s body,” Will said. “We don’t— nobody knows how you did it, but he’s dead.” 

Percy shuddered when he thought of Kronos’s final moments, of the blood streaming down his face, of his terrifying roars of pain and rage, of the sound of his body hitting the pavement. 

“And, um, Centurion Grace is fine too. He got slashed across his chest but his armor took the brunt of the blow. He brought you here, actually. We were all worried that you wouldn’t pull through, you were in really bad shape.” Will glared at him, but there was no heat behind it. “But luckily, your body is as stubborn as you.” 

Percy’s eyes shot back open. Oh Gods, he had totally forgotten about blacking out in Jason’s arms and begging for his forgiveness.

“He’s with the Emperor right now, providing a full report,” Will continued. “He stayed for a few minutes, but then he had to go.” 

Percy tried not to imagine Jason hovering by his cot, watching Percy’s chest rise and fall. Perhaps Jason brushed away a piece of Percy’s hair like he did when they reunited, before rising swiftly and leaving. 

Luckily, Percy was dragged out of that particular rabbit hole when Annabeth poked her head in. “Percy! You’re awake!”

She entered, followed by Frank, Hazel, and Centurion Ramírez-Arellano. Annabeth’s shoulder was wrapped and Reyna was leaning slightly on Frank, who had a black eye. But they were all grinning madly. 

“You did it,” Hazel said, golden-brown eyes glittering with admiration. “You took Kronos down.” 

“We did it,” Percy corrected. For a long, carefree moment, they just smiled at each other, basking in their victory against all odds.

“How’s your shoulder, Annabeth?” Percy asked worriedly. 

Annabeth flexed her shoulder gingerly. “Oh don’t worry about me. I’ll be back to flipping you onto your ass in no time.” 

Percy chuckled, turning to the centurion. “And you’re okay too? Why aren’t you reporting to the Emperor with Jason, Centurion Ramírez-Arellano?” 

She raised an elegant eyebrow at him. “I think you’ve earned the right to call me Reyna, Percy. And I’m fine. Jason’s the Senior Centurion, so it’s his responsibility to report to the Emperor. I’m taking care of my troops.”

Percy smiled gratefully at her when she said my troops .

“What do you want to do now?” Frank asked curiously. 

And suddenly, Percy was too tired to be brave anymore. His body ached too much and he was too ashamed to face Jason again. He was too afraid that, outside of the heat of battle, Jason wouldn’t want to touch Percy anymore, or brush his hair away, or press a kiss to his knuckles. He was in too much pain to watch Jason’s face change as he remembered how Percy had lied to him for months. Sure, they were highly compatible, there was no questioning that, not after what had happened in the palace. But there was also no guarantee that mere biology could trump their … complicated history. There were just too many reasons for Jason to turn him away.

“I think … I think I’d like to go home,” Percy admitted quietly, not looking up.

A warm hand landed onto his shoulder and squeezed.

“We’ll take you,” Annabeth said. The others nodded solemnly. Frank picked up Percy’s knapsack while Hazel and Will helped Percy stand, and slowly led him out.

*

Reyna wasn’t able to join them due to her duties to the legion, but before they left, she pulled Percy aside and gifted one of her own personal swords to replace Grover’s. 

“For the most badass submissive I’ve ever met.” Reyna said with a smile. 

He stared at her gratefully, too overwhelmed to speak, before yanking her into a tight hug. Reyna stiffened in surprise for a second before slowly wrapping her arms around him. 

“Thank you.” he finally whispered. “For everything.”

“Take care of yourself, Jackson.” 

Riding on Blackjack made his side ache something fierce, but Percy was so eager to return home and see his friends that the pain faded into the background. 

The minute they dismounted their horses, a streak of black charged towards Will and tackled him so hard that he almost fell flat onto his back. The others watched on with amusement as Will let out a surprised oomph, before burying his nose into Nico’s dark hair with a contented sigh. 

Piper and Leo rounded the corner seconds later, out of breath from chasing after Nico. 

“Percy!” Leo gasped. “You’re back!” 

They threw themselves at him, and even though it made his ribs scream, Percy hugged them back just as tightly, breathing in their familiar scents. 

“We were so worried about you,” Piper drew away, glaring up at Percy with wet eyes. “Grover wanted to ride out after you but Juniper said that you would get in huge trouble if they found out you were a sub.” 

Percy avoided the other legionnaires’ eyes. 

Leo was staring at the sword belted at his waist with awestruck eyes. “How did you hide your orientation? What’s harder to fight with, a sword or a spear? Did you fight the barbarians? Was it scary?”

Percy chuckled at the rapid fire questions and ruffled Leo’s curls affectionately. “Passing as a dom was all Will, spears are harder to fight with, yes, I fought the barbarians, and yes, it was very scary.” 

Will re-joined them. Nico clung onto him like a limpet, glaring fiercely at the rest of them as if daring them to make fun of him.

“You guys should have seen Percy in action,” Will boasted. “He bested Kronos in single combat and took out the majority of his army.” 

Percy flushed as the other subs stared at him with awe. “It wasn’t all me. I couldn’t have done it without my friends. Let me introduce them.” 

Percy turned to the doms, smirking to himself when he caught Annabeth staring open-mouthed at Piper. He was pleasantly surprised to notice that both Frank and Hazel were eyeing Leo with keen interest as well. 

He introduced the doms one by one, and they engaged the subs hesitantly. Frank was beet-red and Hazel was twirling a stray curl nervously. Even Annabeth—cool, collected Annabeth—looked rather flustered. 

Percy had to bite the inside of his cheek to maintain his composure. Doms. They could face down Kronos’s barbarians fearlessly, but place them in front of two attractive, unmated subs and they were putty. No wonder they didn’t let subs join the legion. 

As the others mingled, Percy turned to Nico. “Um, where is …?” 

But before he could finish his question, Grover turned the corner with Juniper on his heels. 

Juniper immediately dashed over and pulled Percy down into a hug, babbling about how scared and worried they had been. 

Over her shoulder, Percy made eye contact with Grover. 

“Percy.” he whispered. 

At Grover’s murmur, Juniper pulled away, and the dom slowly limped over to him. Around them, the others fell silent and turned to watch the scene unfold unabashedly. 

“Hey, Grover.” Percy said meekly. “I, um, I lost your sword. But here’s a new one that my centurion gave me.” 

Percy thought he heard Annabeth smack her forehead as he presented Reyna’s sword. 

Grover took the sword. He stared down at it, then back up at Percy. When he didn’t say anything, Percy forced himself to speak again, voice breaking every other word. “Grover, I know you must have, um, mixed feelings about seeing me. I want you to know that I am so, so sorry—”

Grover cut him off, casting the sword aside and pulling him into a fierce hug. Percy melted into the embrace, feeling all his weariness and pain fade away. Around him, the others collectively released a sigh of relief. 

“I’m just happy you’re back home safe.” Grover whispered. “I missed you so much, Perce.” 

Percy closed his eyes, and felt a tear trickle down his right cheek. “Me too.”

*

Percy never thought he’d say this, but he almost missed the gruelling training at Camp Jupiter. At the very least, he missed the constant hustle and bustle of the soldiers around him and the driving sense of purpose. 

At least Annabeth, Frank, and Hazel were still in town. They claimed that they weren’t leaving until they were sure that Percy had made a full recovery. Something about Percy’s lack of self preservation instincts and his tendency to make foolhardy decisions that resulted in life-threatening injuries, which was just preposterous really. You end up bedridden two times and everyone thinks that you’re prone to injury. So unfair. 

(Plus, Percy knew that was only part of the reason they hadn’t left. The other part had to do with two lovely subs).

He wasn’t really complaining though. It was nice to get to know the doms and spend time with them outside of the context of training and fighting for their lives. It was even more fun to watch them attempt to woo Piper and Leo. (And really, watching Annabeth, Frank, and Hazel tiptoe around them only made Percy gain even more respect for Will, because apparently he was the only dom in the entire Roman Empire who knew how to properly woo a sub). Percy had a bet going with Nico and Will on which relationship would happen first. Nico had instantly taken a liking to Hazel and firmly believed that she and Frank would be the first to make a move. Will sided with his sub, of course. Percy had his money on Annabeth and Piper. 

Still, even with the company, re-adjusting to civilian life was difficult. Today, like most days, Percy found himself back in the stables, quietly grooming Blackjack and thinking about a certain centurion.

He knew that it hadn’t been very brave of him to sneak away from Rome without saying goodbye to Jason. He had known that and accepted it at the time as the price for his lies, but now that he was home, he found that he was full of sorrow and regret. His physical wounds were healing nicely, thanks to Grover and Juniper and Will, but the memories and trauma of his experience in the war lingered. 

For the millionth time, he wondered what they had done with Kronos’s body. 

Grover and Juniper had burst into his bedroom his first night home. Percy didn’t know what noises he had been making, but they couldn’t have been pleasant because Grover’s face had been drained of color and Juniper had been shaking. They had curled up beside him, holding him while he gasped and trembled and recounted his fight with Kronos. Grover had told him all the right things—that he’d done it to save the Emperor and Rome, that Kronos was a monster and murder, that it had been his only option. 

Percy knew that, while all those things were true, none of them had been the driving force behind his actions. He had blinded Kronos and let him fall to his death because he had nearly killed Jason. He had acted out of selfish reasons, and would therefore probably never rest easy with Kronos’s death. 

Percy closed his eyes, resting his head against Blackjack’s neck. 

Behind him, someone opened the doors. Percy turned with a smile, about to remind Grover of the last time the dom had found him moping in the stables, when he saw who it was. The smile slid off his face, and he dropped Blackjack’s brush.

“Jason?” 

Jason stepped into the threshold slowly. He stood straight and tall, with his hands clasped behind his back, but Percy could see the nervous tension in his shoulders. Instead of his usual crimson cloak, he was now wearing a deep purple cape. There was also a shining eagle medal pinned to his chest. 

“Or, Praetor Grace, now. You got promoted.” 

Jason, looking like he couldn’t stop himself, took another step forward. “Yes, Reyna and I were elected as the new praetors.” 

“Congratulations!” Percy said earnestly. “It’s certainly well-deserved.” 

Jason’s mouth tightened. “If anyone should have been rewarded—”

Percy waved it aside. “Eh.”

“I’ve come as an emissary,” Jason said, suddenly remembering to bow. “His Majesty wished to thank you for your service. He would like to offer you a place on his council. And he sends you this crest—” Jason’s hands came from behind his back to remove a golden pendant from around his neck, which he handed to Percy, “so that everyone will know what you have done for the Empire.” 

Percy stared down at the medallion. “Thank you. Or, I send my thanks to the Emperor.” he corrected. He showed it to Blackjack with a small grin, before tucking it carefully into his tunic pocket and looking back up at Jason. 

Jason, who had been following his movements like a hawk, met Percy’s eyes and straightened. 

“Thank you for coming.” Percy offered. 

Jason swallowed. “To tell you the truth, I— I volunteered to come here because I wanted to see you.” 

Percy blinked at him. 

“You left so quickly,” Jason continued. “Without— you didn’t say goodbye, and I wasn’t sure if. If you, uh.”

When Percy stayed silent, Jason’s shoulders tensed further. “If you felt it,” he said, voice quiet but intense, “in the corridor. Our connection.” 

Percy hesitated. “I did,” he finally said, and Jason’s shoulders relaxed slightly. “But Jason, that doesn’t have to mean anything, if you don’t want it to.” 

Jason’s mouth opened and closed like a fish. It should have made him look dumb, but Percy was so stupidly, pathetically in love with him that he found it charming.  

“You were so angry with me after you found out I was a sub,” Percy explained quietly, avoiding Jason’s eyes. “It was like you wanted to forget you ever met me—”

“No,” Jason choked out. His voice was so impassioned that Percy looked back up at him. “Percy, no. I was being stupid. I was angry and hurt that you hid your orientation, but I should have realized that nothing else between us had been a lie. And I could never forget meeting you, Gods Percy, you’re incredible. You joined the legion just to protect your friend. You started out as one of the worst recruits I’d ever seen and managed to surpass everyone through sheer will. You took out Kronos’s entire army and defeated him single-handedly and you saved my life twice! You’re tougher and braver and stronger than any dom I know and you— you inspire me and I want you. I mean, I would be honored to have a sub like you by my side.” 

Percy stared at Jason for a long moment, before heaving a sigh. “To be honest with you, in return … I didn’t just join the legion to protect Grover. I went because I wanted to. I wanted the chance to prove myself, to leave behind the quiet, boring, miserable life that subs are expected to live. I hated all of it, so much. So Jason, I don’t think I could be a good sub to you.” Percy admitted, feeling a certain sense of peace despite the ache in his chest. This was the right thing to do.

The corner of Jason’s scarred mouth quirked up. “Well, Percy,” he said, taking a step forward. “I’m not sure I would be a very good dom, either.” 

“Um, what?” Percy said, surprised into laughter. 

“An honorable dom always protects his sub,” Jason recited tonelessly, “A dom of honor commands his family and acts with strength, wisdom, and conviction.” Percy nodded, remembering Grover repeating the same words. 

Jason took another step forward, closing the distance between them. “A good dom doesn’t want his sub rushing into battles alongside him,” he said, taking Percy’s hands in his own. “Doesn’t long for his sub to challenge him, to push him, to fight next to him and with him.” 

Percy smiled shyly up at Jason. “It sounds like we were both very poor at our lessons.” 

Jason smirked back, before stepping so close that Percy felt their knees touch, then their stomachs, and then finally, their lips. 

The first seconds were hesitant, only the barest touch, a whisper against each other’s mouths. But then Percy started to laugh around their kiss and Jason released his hands and wrapped his arms around Percy instead, yanking him in and up with a kind of joyous carelessness. One of Jason’s hands roamed up Percy’s back while his other hand clasped around Percy’s jaw, tilting his head just right and kissing him deeply.

When they drew back, both of them were gasping for breath.

“Come, Praetor Grace,” Percy said coyly, leading him towards the door. “I’ve waited for you long enough.” 

“Jason,” the dom corrected, and Percy yanked him in for another kiss. 

“I’ll call you what I want,” he teased when they broke apart. 

Jason laughed and pulled him in tight with a hand around his waist. “Let’s go then, my sub,” he said, and Percy, for once, happily obeyed.