Remember That You Will Die [Heroes of Olympus] | ON HOLD

five

It was refreshing to have time when his raven didn't bleed into color or whistle tunes. It allowed the boy to control his time, and even if it meant preparing for battle, it was by his choice. After all, he'd be working with his cohort, the first. With many legionnaires who have to prove they are equally as worthy as who gave them the letter of recommendation.

The first cohort was his childhood. He grew up in barracks for the best and the conceited, yet it was his home. At where he lied now, it had been his space for a good seven years. In time, those beside him had tucked in many people, old members who served for at least 10 years. How many times these sheets changed color yet held the same warmth, belonging to a person haunted with dreams and blessed with waking up. His younger self recalled waking up to his seniors, awake and wide-eyed from a vision. Even in the darkest nights, he'd stare at their eyes, welled up with tears. Or squinted to vanish their dreams in the little window of light to pretend their dream was not a message. The haunted looks were one thing, yet there were more actions of comfort that took up storage in his memory. The comfort they showed as if he had been the one to have the nightmare. Lulling him to sleep in their arms and humming lullabies as they kept him close as if he had the nightmare himself. Of course, most veterans from his first years retired to the city. And as they said goodbyes, it left him to a bed with nobody by his side for quite a few months.

Until Octavian switched beds to claim one beside his. It was something so simple, and mundane. One that may not be worthy of mention or honor. But to the 12-year-old Alek who felt lonely enough in lessons, it was one worth writing in his tale. As a Roman, he did not know if thanks was a word that must be said aloud. So he decided to just silently express it, by taking his time to also befriend his father's legacy. A boy whose ambition hasn't peaked yet. A boy he understood to be desperate for purpose.

There were many people like Octavian in his cohort. His seniors, like Ian and Alessia, and even his closest friends, Noelle and Lana, possessed the same need. When he saw their faces each day, their eyes painted an anticipated failure, and their hands showed a grip determined to prevent it from happening. And he wondered, did he also appear to be the same? After all, when they exited their barracks and faced the others, they all looked identical. The glorious and the ideal legionnaires with pride as their only personality.

So whoever believes Alek's cohort is nothing but the stereotype, he will not fight them. He will not expose sacred memories to the close-minded. Even if they come knocking down their door, and entering at a signal unwarranted by their own.

"You dyed your hair?" He was absent-minded with thoughts circling on protectiveness, that he almost missed her entrance. It was because her movement didn't catch his attention. But the sudden pause among the members, he was keeping an eye over at, did. Members who were carefree earlier, no fear of an intruder seeing beyond the first's front.

She was one of his remaining best friends, but even she did not have a right to disrupt the rhythm amongst them. "And what are you doing here, our dear praetor? Pray tell of your sudden visit at our barracks." There was no rule on visitations. But barracks were where companions rested and promised solitude. So yes, Reyna was their respected praetor, yet her entrance unannounced at their quarters, in a time war was not yet happening, had dented the privacy. And just like any Roman, the girl held her pride and sought no need to answer his question. The way her eyebrow raised tested his question as if it was ridiculous. And if only he was not a loyal soldier in duty to her leadership, he would've put her in place. "I don't want to wash evident scarlet pigment off my blonde hair once battles begin. Better it be black and allow me to hold a facade." He knew she wouldn't ask him to stand and leave, so he did it of his own accord. Inviting her outside without saying the words. It was the least he could do to give his colleagues their well-deserved relaxation.

"I just hope your dad won't remove the dye instantly like before." She knew she aggravated him, even if his smile was intact, it was his tense shoulders that told her of this. Of course, she knew what she had disturbed. But at the same time, she did not because she wasn't from the same cohort. And that was one of the few things she'll never understand, one she is too afraid to admit. "Reyna," but here they were again. With him using a tone that always apprised her of his acceptance of their differences, yet careless attitude to these. And it made her fall deeper. "I know you came in there for a dire reason. Please, tell me what it is because as much as I love spending time with you conversing about little things, we both know this is not the time." And he also prefers to be with them than her. Unsaid things that she read in between his careful words.

Before him, she unfolded the warrior, the leader, and nothing else. A shell of who she is to others, but never to him, until now. "The others suggested you lead in conversing with each cohort about their formation and strategic plans." She was pushing him away, and there was this part in him that welcomed it. Because at the end of the day, she might be in awe of him. Yet, he wonders if she really respects his true talents, or was he just another soldier that was under her command. She was praetor and he is nothing but a legionnaire in the Twelfth Legion.

"At your command, praetor." His voice thundered at her title, using her own pride against her. A warning brewing below it that the speaker didn't detect, but the listener did. And it was only when he turned his back that her tears fell. It was a fresh dew of glistening ivory, as beautiful as the goddess who foretold her romantic tragedy.

A/N: The battle is about to begin, and the prophecy is unraveling at such a racer's pace. But here are two friends, breaking each other to a distance. A distance that might not be resolved in time when both are forced to be apart for the sake of saving the world of the gods and goddesses. - Aid.