─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆
❛ 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐔𝐒.
we have seen the worse of each other.
our souls are intertwined. he could be
a decaying corpse, and i will become
the maggots digging into hi...
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AMONG ALL THE MINDLESS DEMIGODS HE HAD ENCOUNTERED, MICAH CONSIDERED JASON TO BE THE MOST PATHETIC. This feeling wasn't a critique of his demeanor, even though he was admittedly a bit bland to be around; it was merely a realization that had lingered in Micah's mind since Poseidon uttered the name of his son all those years ago—of how awful it must be to be Jason Grace.
Truly, what Micah felt for him was pity. fter all, what made the son of Jupiter truly pathetic was his own greatness.
How awful must it be, being separated from his family to be raised by wolves, driven to surpass the unattainable standards set by the gods. To have every trait needed to be the perfect soldier bitten into his skin—to sacrifice everything for others—for leadership—yet still fall short to a kid with no formal training or experience who appeared out of nowhere. Just to be eclipsed by a child born to a loving mother on the opposite side of the country, destined to forever linger in his shadow without even realizing it.
It was such a cruel twist of fate that Micah couldn't help but feel sorry. Percy had achieved what Jason had dedicated his entire life to pursuing without even wanting it. What defined Jason as good to the gods elevated Percy to greatness; where Jason failed, Percy succeeded beyond anyone's expectations.
Not that it mattered in the end, he supposes.
They were both taken without notice, two pieces on a chessboard moved without a word.
Micah doesn't have the patience to play anymore.
Resting against one of his Hellhounds, he watched Annabeth's efforts to communicate with the three strays he had brought to camp. He crossed his arms, studying them intently. Having spent enough time with Aphrodite, he could recognize her semblance in all of her children, but he still couldn't determine who would be claiming the smallest of the three. He didn't have the mind to dwell on it too long; no matter where his gaze shifted, it would return to Jason.
The son of Jupiter seemed—small. Unsure of himself, faltering in his decisions, glancing at his companions for reassurance. His questions were too many, his doubts too loud. He bore no resemblance to the hero of Rome he was raised to be, as if he had forgotten everything that Lupa had taught him. As if—
"You lost your memories," Micah realized with a growing smile.
The son of Jupiter stopped speaking mid-sentence, turning to him with a desperation in his blue eyes that Micah had never seen before. "I did," Jason confirmed. "I don't remember anything before waking up in that bus with Piper and Leo. But you know me. You mentioned a name, Reyna—"
