Of Demigods and Monsters (Leo Valdez x Reader)

XXI

Jason

If the entry hall had been cold, the throne room was like a meat locker.

Mist hung in the air. Jason shivered, and his breath steamed. Along the walls, purple tapestries showed scenes of snowy forests, barren mountains, and glaciers. High above, ribbons of colored light—the aurora borealis—pulsed along the ceiling. A layer of snow covered the floor, so Jason had to step carefully. All around the room stood life-size ice sculpture warriors—some in Greek armor, some medieval, some in modern camouflage—all frozen in various attack positions, swords raised, guns locked and loaded.

At least Jason thought they were sculptures. Then he tried to step between two Greek spearmen, and they moved with surprising speed, their joints cracking and spraying ice crystals as they crossed their javelins to block Jason's path.

From the far end of the hall, a man's voice rang out in a language that sounded like French. The room was so long and misty, Jason couldn't see the other end; but whatever the man said, the ice guards uncrossed their javelins.

"It's fine," Khione said. "My father has ordered them not to kill you just yet."

"Super," Jason said.

"I suggest we keep moving, Jason Grace. My father is not a patient man."  Khione cast a sceptical look on Piper. "It is a shame your girlfriend is losing Aphrodite's blessing. It could have helped you."

Jason couldn't help but blush at the word girlfriend. He wasn't really, but he knew he had a complicated past. It surprised Jason more when Piper answered calmly.

"We aren't like that. Just friends."

He thought it killed her just as much to say it as it was for him to hear it. She quickly leaned over and whispered in his ear. "Unless you don't want it to be..."

They kept walking, and the mist parted to reveal a man on an ice throne. He was sturdily built, dressed in a stylish white suit that seemed woven from snow, with dark purple wings that spread out to either side. His long hair and shaggy beard were encrusted with icicles, so Jason couldn't tell if his hair was gray or just white with frost. His arched eyebrows made him look angry, but his eyes twinkled more warmly than his daughter's—as if he might have a sense of humor buried somewhere under that permafrost. Jason hoped so. He suddenly wished that y/n had followed them in here, then maybe he wouldn't be stuck under so much pressure. That, or he would have rather been in Leo's position.

"Bienvenu," the king said. "Je suis Boreas le Roi. Et vous?"

Khione the snow goddess was about to speak, but Piper stepped forward and curtsied.

"Votre Majesté," she said, " je suis Piper McLean. Et c'est Jason, fils de Zeus."

The king smiled with pleasant surprise. "Vous parlez français? Très bien!"

"Piper, you speak French?" Jason asked. Piper frowned. "No. Why?" "You just spoke French." Piper blinked. "I did?" The king said something else, and Piper nodded. "Oui, Votre Majesté."

The king laughed and clapped his hands, obviously delighted. He said a few more sentences then swept his hand toward his daughter as if shooing her away.

Khione looked miffed. "The king says—"

"He says I'm a daughter of Aphrodite," Piper interrupted, "so naturally I can speak French, which is the language of love. I had no idea. His Majesty says Khione won't have to translate now."

Khione frowned as if she expected to be more appreciated. Nonetheless, she bowed stiffly to her father and took a step back.

The king sized up Jason, and Jason decided it would be a good idea to bow. "Your Majesty, I'm Jason Grace. Thank you for, um, not killing us. May I ask ... why does a Greek god speak French?"