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jflashandclash · 3 months

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Tales From Mount Othrys

Axel II: Into the Lion’s Maw

The masks’ thrum was alluring. Something brushed his knuckles—the edges of another pew? Axel startled, gripping the wood. When had he started walking forward? There was nothing between him and the altar now—no other pew to warn him that his legs had elected to go for the shiny, dangerous object before his brain agreed.

Pax was as cautious as he was capable. “The Triple A Chimera helmets!” he squeaked and scrambled ahead of Axel.

“Ajax!” Axel growled, but knew he couldn’t stop him. Pax was right beside the altar, and Axel didn’t trust his legs to cooperate.

Alabaster sighed. “Ajax, we’re not calling it that.”

“Witch Boy, you might not be, but the rest of the world is in agreement.” Pax cracked his knuckles and reached for the bronze serpent helm. If he was willing to drink mysterious, glowing vials for Alabaster, he would definitely pick up a haunted artifact that screamed, “hex me, please.”

Alabaster grinned darkly. “Mercedes has been fueling more of the Romans’ own rumors, the ones about a beast that can morph in and out of the Mist. Why not—”

“Hello, little Spy Master,” the voice was soft, harsh, and slithered from the helm in Pax’s fingers.

The helmet clanged onto the altar. Pax jumped backwards. “Cool creepy stuff!” he yelped.

Axel ground his nails deeper into the pew. “They talk?” He already had to worry about Jack and Matthias’ influence on Pax. Pax didn’t need more bad influences.

Alabaster nodded. “They each have their own unique sense of humor.”

Sense of humor? What could that mean from Alabaster of all people?

Pax paled, still staring at the bronze one in confusion. “Why’d it call me the Spy Master? I’m just an irresistibly adorable spy assistant.”

Hecate settled a calming hand on Pax’s shoulder. This time, her smile was sad. “These helms reveal potential futures if you chose to align with them.”

“Maybe you take over spying on the Greeks when Silena Beauregard finally betray us.” Alabaster rolled his eyes at his age-old complaint.

Pax brightened, “You mean, I could be Mercedes’ irresistibly—”

“Irritatingly—”

“—adorable partner? Not just her assistant?” The prospect thrilled Pax. Axel knew how desperate Pax was to impress Mercedes. Despite that, Pax glanced over at Axel. The Free Possessions Here vibe had spooked him, and he wanted to make sure it was safe.

Axel swallowed, willing his legs into a casual approach. The closer he came, the more he could make out the detail of the beautiful plumage, the worse the urge to touch that gorgeous gold. His fingers twitched back to the cigarette in his pocket. Otherwise, he’d grab the helm. “Kinda flashy for you, no subtle amulets?” his voice came out rougher than he wanted.

Alabaster rubbed the edge of the antler between his forefinger and thumb. “I believe you gave me lectures on the value of utilizing fear in battle, and then proved it during our fight for my lab. These forms will enhance that…” His hand shook. He was awaiting an answer for a question Pax hadn’t realized he’d asked. But Axel knew the gravity of this conversation. And with this topic of conversation, Axel worried how demigods, supposedly, could spy on others in their sleep.

If Axel hadn’t come to know Alabaster so well, he might not have noticed how unconfident the Witch Boy felt. He was paler than usual—worried. His voice was soft as he continued, “Daedalus won’t make Kronos a body. I’ve researched his myth and history. He worked under threat for too long. Kronos only needs one more soul before he reforms.” Alabaster glanced up at Axel. “Castellan’s getting desperate. Even more short tempered than usual. And paranoid. He turned away Kelly. He sent out souls into the labyrinth that aren’t coming back—”

The three of them winced. None had heard from Chris Rodriguez. Pax liked to pretend he was okay.

Alabaster’s expression hardened. His knuckles turned white on the edge of his helm. “He hit Mercedes.”

Pax froze. “He what?”

Axel clenched his jaw. Mercedes hadn’t given Luke a name for their leak yet. She couldn’t find that Di Angelo child that Luke so fanatically wanted. He went from saying they didn’t need a Spy Master to using her supposed incompetency as a scapegoat to Kronos.

“Yesterday. When I told you Mercedes wanted you in the laboratory…” Alabaster trailed off. Something uncharacteristic of him. He was usually so calculated with his words. “Both of you are…” He hesitated and glanced at his mother.

Hecate nodded at him in encouragement.

Pax clutched his stomach, like he was ready to use the new helmet as a barf bag.[1] Axel understood the nausea. Mercedes was the first person to show them kindness on the Princess Andromeda.

Alabaster closed his eyes to collect himself. He squeezed the horn of the boned helm once more before his gaze shifted back to Axel. “You’re not pledged to Kronos. You can’t. Both of you have befriended those in power: Castellan’s Scourge of New Rome, his Quiet Death. The Bearer of Flames owes Axel his freedom—” Axel felt dizzy as Alabaster listed their monikers: Jack, Flynn, Prometheus.

“You can just call them their names,” Pax said weakly. “Or give them more accurate names. He Who Wears Pink Pajamas.”

Alabaster glanced to Pax, betraying the slightest of smiles over the joke at Jack’s sleepwear. “Ajax, you’ve become Mercedes’ prized spy for New Rome. Even your silly band has marked the two of you as a minor celebrity with the monsters. And—and both of you have wormed yourselves into the good graces of the children of Hecate.”

Pax feigned some bravado, leaned towards Axel, and whispered loudly, “I think Alabaster just admitted to liking us.” He straightened and looked at Alabaster. “Alabaster, you could have just said you thought we were cool. Remember how we talked about needing to sound less like a super villain about to assassinate someone?”

Alabaster’s lip twitched.

Pax balked. “Are you a super villain about to assassinate someone?”

Alabaster and Axel exchanged a glance.

That was exactly what they were talking about.

If possible, Pax’s eyes widened further. “Axeeeellll,” he whined in a tattle. “Alabaster is talking about assassinating someone!”

Alabaster sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s Kronos, Ajax. Must I spell it out for you and any hostile gods that might be eavesdropping?”

“Nah, I’m illiterate.” Pax waved a hand. “It would only help the gods.” Axel could tell how desperately his brother wanted to look aloof about the situation.

Alabaster straightened to his full height. One hand lifted a vial out of his pocket. “I can’t do this alone. I need people I trust.”

“And if we refuse?” Axel asked, eyes trained on the vial. Something about this felt wrong. But, when was the last time things felt right? Despite everything, he could picture Luke’s easy smile, the way he coaxed Jack back after Calypso captured him.

And the look of hunger on his face when he wanted to interrogate Annabeth one-on-one.

Alabaster’s expression crumbled. “I have the River Lethe water on hand. You’ll never know you were asked. And, I will be down two friends.”

Tension curled the Mist into menacing figures in their peripheral. Hecate, Axel suddenly realized, had faded into the fog around them.

Alabaster and Axel stared at each other. It felt like they were on opposite sides of disk that was balanced on a ball. One wrong move, both would topple. Was Alabaster trying to trick Axel into admitting treachery? Or was he reaching out to commit it with him? This felt like a trap, but Alabaster had never gotten along with Luke. But, what if Luke could still be brought back?

Pax glanced from his brother to his friend. He raised his hands in an unarmed gesture. “Guys, I know you’re both paranoid, but, like, we can all agree that Luke is a dick. He—” Pax quieted. He took a shuffled step closer to Alabaster. Tactically, Alabaster shouldn’t let Pax get that close until he had an answer. “He has been. H—he hit you… when we first got here.” The end of the sentence disappeared into a mumble. Pax slipped his fingers along Alabaster’s.

Alabaster startled. His face rouged, but he didn’t withdraw. “You hadn’t even officially joined and you were already spying for Mercedes.”

“Only unwittingly.” Pax’s smile was shy, impish. He pressed Alabaster’s hand, and vial, back into Alabaster’s pocket.

Something about the interaction rang Axel’s Older Brother Alarm Bells. (And, besides, did Pax have a crush on Mercedes…?) But there was too much to process to consider it now. “And if Luke can be separated from Kronos?” Axel asked.

Alabaster shrugged. “This will give us the tools to free him, whether through aid or death. We need him to win the war, but afterwards…”

“I don’t want to kill Luke,” Pax said, “That would make Jack very sad. And he might resurrect him. And that could start the zombie virus—Ala, do you think we could make the zombie virus in Camp Half-Blood and New Rome and win that way?”

“Well, we—” Alabaster raised an eyebrow at him. “Super powered zombies?”

Pax puffed up his cheeks and popped them. “Oh. I see your point. Bad idea.”

Pax and Alabaster’s hands hadn’t come out of Alabaster’s pocket. Later, Axel decided.

Right now, the helm thrummed in his ears. There were no coherent words, just dissonance—a presence felt by way of an increasing pressure around his skull. Did the others hear it? Did they feel it? Did theirs call to them so intensely?

The eye sockets seemed to have eyes of their own, pits of blackness. Axel thought, for a stuttered heartbeat, that an iris shifted. Reflections off metal, he assured himself. Though he knew better. Maybe others could be tricked by the Mist. He could see through it. Something was inside the helmet. Something wanted out.

“These grant us power,” Axel summarized. Placing a hand beside the helm made the cacophony inside his head near unbearable.

No wonder Alabaster asked them to meet in his mother’s realm. Having these in the laboratory felt dangerous. Too much for demigods. Axel had to wonder if Alabaster was just a mouthpiece? Maybe Hecate was doing what she was rumored to do: give another option. A tertiary option to Kronos or the Olympians.

Axel searched the surreal jungle. She had to still be here. This was, presumably, her temple, and these were her godly gifts. Even with his true sight, all he could spot was wisps of her presence in the fog: the wave of some hair, the echo of a finger, the curve of fabric along her side, none in the same spot. An unsettling notion made Axel draw his shoulders back. She was the Mist itself. Millennia of entangling with its essence had left her nearly indistinguishable.

“Hecate?” he called, “What is the catch? What are we trading?”

She resolidified across the altar from Axel. “While you wear these, the past will become nothing more than just a dream, so that you may regain the ability to dream.” She lifted the feline helm to examine it. As she did, the air electrified. He felt something swishing behind him in tempestuous flicks—a tail? He didn’t look. She was trying to distract him.

“These will harness your anger, your pain, your doubts, and your fear. They manifest it and they become it, so that you may hold it separately from your own identities. So you may don it and meld with it when it is most fitting.” Her emerald gaze lifted to Axel’s. “You are trading a piece of yourself, pieces that will become my little monsters, my children. You are trading control. You will no longer have unwanted intrusions, but they will become the intrusion when you don them. I’m powerless to change your fates…” She looked to each of them in turn. Her son. Pax. Axel. “But in the end, I’ll shelter you. After all, you are my child’s cherished friends.”

Alabaster went red.

Breaking her somber speech, Pax nudged Alabaster. “Your mom knows she doesn’t need to pay us to hang out with you, right?”

Alabaster shot Pax a glare.

Axel tried to picture what that would mean, to be able to dream again without screaming, to know internal peace. He clenched his jaw. This felt like a cheat. It felt like—

“They will fail one day,” she said, as though reading his thoughts. “You’ll need to face your fears. But, not during this war. The delay will make it traumatic, especially for you, Jaguar Child. Melding with this will cause you pain.”[2]

Axel swallowed. Hesitantly, he reached out. The cacophony intensified, screaming until—

“Hello, Lieutenant of Kronos.”

Everything siphoned into that voice. Tension eased out of Axel’s shoulders. Distractions faded. He meant to just brush the cool metal with the back of one knuckle, but it was cradled in his hands. Its weight felt right, comforting. The plumes were soft as they curled around his forearm, around the blades he kept strapped there.

Lieutenant? Axel mused, Like Atlas? A smile curled along his lips. The Leader of Assault and Battery? Or the Sabotage Unit?

Touching the feline etching made Axel feel lighter. The calm was intoxicating. Some people went to his father to fuel their opioid addictions. He wondered if this kind of relief was similar.

“Do you two need a room? Or, well, a tree to hide behind?” Pax asked. He tried to sound light.

Axel startled, glancing up at his brother. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed. It must have been more than a few moments, as it had felt for Axel. Pax fidgeted with a satchel of something Alabaster must have given him to occupy his free hand. The one not in the Witch Boy’s pocket. Alabaster was examining Axel, expressionless. Axel ignored Pax, instead, giving Alabaster a crooked smile. “You’re not tricking me into taking a magical sleep med by throwing a rebellion, are you?”

Alabaster shrugged. “Is it working?”

It was, but Axel didn’t want to admit that. The thought of falling asleep with this calm, all in the name of stopping a tyrant? Instead, he pointed out, “If these are going to alter how we fight and think through combat, we’ll have to test them in a controlled environment first.”

Pax bounced on the heels of his feet. Alabaster merely nodded; he already would have planned for that.

Axel’s fingers shook around the helm at the thought of putting it down. “Kronos will be suspicious if Luke tells him we have got specialized magic armor, if Kronos doesn’t just pull the memory out of his head.”

“A memorandum for surviving the Roman’s raid on my laboratory,” Alabaster explained away.

Pax rolled his eyes. Axel had to agree: Alabaster wasn’t known for being sentimental. That was an unlikely story.

Axel considered other protests or objections. But, as he did, he realized there was no way he could put this helm down without trying it on. His gaze dropped down to the flicker of movement behind those blackened eye sockets.

We have work to do, Lieutenant, the mask reminded him, as though they were already one.

This wasn’t like signing up to fight Camp Half-Blood and Camp Jupiter. That hadn’t been a choice. Luke’s men were going to kill both of them if he hadn’t signed up. But this? Alabaster was treating Axel as an equal. He was giving him the tools to fight an encroaching evil, something that was devouring his other friend.

“I’m in,” he said.

A dark laugh echoed from the helm, something that felt strangely comforting.

Axel looked up to find Alabaster smiling. The Witch Boy turned to Pax. “Ajax?” he asked.

Pax puffed up his cheeks and popped them. Everyone always assumed he would follow Axel’s lead in every decision. Axel appreciated that Alabaster wanted the three of them equally committed.

Pax hesitated. He set the satchel in Alabaster’s pocket. Timidly, he reached for the serpentine helmet. This time, he didn’t drop it, cradling it like Axel held his. He gave Alabaster and Axel a goofy grin. “Triple A Chimera assemble! Do we get a secret handshake?!”

“No,” Alabaster said. After Pax pouted at him, his stern expression cracked, “But, the helmets do come with weasel kittens, now that you’ve accepted them.”

Alabaster was excellent at delivering deadpan humor; that hadn’t sounded like a joke. Before Axel could ask him to repeat himself, he heard the soft trilling sound from the plumes.

“No…” Axel mumbled in disbelief.

There, emerging from the thick feathers, was a tiny set of squinting, beady eyes. The whole critter was miniscule, certainly smaller than Axel’s palm. Lifting its head appeared to be too much for it, the snout bobbing around uncertainly as it sniffed. A pang hit Axel’s chest. He held the helm more delicately. This was even more fragile than his pet jaguar cub, Juana, had been.

Pax squealed with delight. “It’s a weasel! It’s a baby weasel! You got us baby weasels!?” He hopped around the altar with the helmet. It made Axel want to frantically rush over to assure no tiny weasels fell out.

Alabaster plucked a pure white one out of the ivory on his skull helm. He slipped the weasel into a breast pocket on his shirt. Alabaster often had various compartments on him for spell ingredients, but—

“And you got yourself an incubator shirt?!” Pax yelped with glee. He had separated his weasel from his helmet, set the helmet on the altar, and was cradling his weasel in both hands.

Leave it to Pax to ignore the All Powerful Magical Armor.

“Kits or pups,” Alabaster corrected. “They don’t need incubators, but they will need to be fed, socialized with each other, taught to hunt, and—”

Alabaster cut off when Pax went on his tiptoes to kiss his cheek. His complexion had just settled back into that of a vampire. He went bright red again, cleared his throat, took a step back, and pointedly avoided looking at Axel.

That “later” talk that Axel and Alabaster needed to have? It was going to happen as soon as the three of them were awake.

“And named,” Alabaster tried to make it sound like there hadn’t been a pause. “Th—they’re more than pets.” He swallowed, regaining composure. “Each is an extension of your helm’s power, playing to the strength of the owner. Nietzsche can store spell runes, acting as both a roving set of prepared spells and a conduit to set magic off at a greater distance.” The tiny white head poked out of Alabster’s pocket, slitted red eyes trained on the Pax brothers.

Axel extended a finger towards his tiny charge. When the weasel sensed him, it curled about his index finger, nipping vainly. Axel had to admit, he liked her. She had spunk.

“Who gets Honey and who gets Baller?” Pax bobbed to Axel’s side.

Axel’s tiny charge clung to his finger while nodding off to sleep. “Honey and--?” he asked.

“Hunahpu and Xbalanque! Duh!” Pax cheered.

Alabaster looked relieved at the shift in conversation. “Maya names?” he asked.

Axel nodded. “The hero twins.” The names of sorcerer warriors felt fitting for gifts from Hecate. Though, Axel doubted these two weasels could feign dismemberment, the way the ancient warriors and Hecate’s children could. Well, maybe Pax’s could. That would fit Pax’s style of combat.

Pax pointed to a clustered spot of fur on the back of Axel’s. “Yours has little rosettes.”

Axel nodded. “Mine shall be Hunnapuh then.”

Pax held his up, Lion King-style. “And this shall be Baller!”[3] he proclaimed with bravado.

The three boys got to enjoy something they rarely did these days: a peaceful moment in a safe place with no one watching but a caring mother. Pax demanded they put their weasels into a kit pile in his hands. Axel surveyed this carefully, but was relieved Pax seemed to have a natural knack for tending to the little ones.

Despite discovering the existence of Greek gods, being “adopted” by someone a few years older than he was, and being cast as the heartthrob in a monster-centric metal band, these gifts were some of the biggest surprises Axel had in the past two years. Alabaster had always been uncomfortable with shows of affection. Some people got each other burgers and French fries as signs of friendship. Others gave each other weapons of war.

All of them were smiling when the jungle shook. The quake’s ripple was so strong, Pax pitched onto one side. He cradled the weasel kits protectively to his chest with one hand while smacking the forest ground with the other floor to break his fall. Axel stumbled. Alabaster snagged the edges of the altar. “Mother--?” he called.

“Mount Tams,” she said from the fog of mist, “is under attack.”

***

Thank all of you for reading! Also, thank you to those of you that left comments in my last post. I promise, I’ll be responding as soon as I can. You rock and have made it worth while to get myself to post again! In the meantime, know you have Jack in an appreciative pile of moosh and gratitude! Stay tuned for, hopefully (>>’’) every other week updates!

***

[2] Pax, “Way to hit his kink, Hecate.”

[3] I recently read up that the hero twins were pronounced, “WAH-nuh-pwuh and shi-BAY-lan-kay.” But I think younger Axel would have been too insecure to call his lil one “Pooh,” so we’re sticking with the mispronunciated, butchering of Honey and Baller.

#percy jackson and the olympians #PJO #the heroes of olympus #HOO #Tales From Mount Othrys #TFMO #alabaster c torrington #Hecate #Pax #Axel #WEASELS #FINALLY WE GET SOME MF WEASELS

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