𝟬𝟬. when in new rome

°ʚ(*'꒳'*)ɞ°

"Darling, your looks can kill."

AERA WAS STARTING TO RESENT SNOW WHITE. Maybe if the fabled princess didn't have such fair skin then snow wouldn't be so blindingly bright. And maybe if the Evil Queen hadn't been so obsessed with her wicked schemes then snowstorms wouldn't be so stingingly cold. Though it was perhaps important to note that the root of the daughter of Aphrodite's hard feelings towards the current blizzard raging around her stemmed more so from the vicious group of Roman soldiers hunting her down rather than her favorite childhood fairytale.

"Up there!" one of them shouted, their voice buffeted by the howling of the winter gale. "She went this way!"

Gods, those screaming Romans were really starting to get on her nerves. The snowstorm made it difficult to do anything other than shrivel into a shivering sack of crackling skin, but Aera managed to spot an army of shadows over her shoulder.

Where were the poison apples when you needed them?

The icy wind compromised both her vision and her hearing, but Aera had no choice but to keep her brisk pace trudging through the flowers of ice blooming in the snow-kissed air. She was well aware that if those barbarians captured her for the third time, there'd be no telling what they'd do to her. Probably something really horrible like cutting her fingers off or worse—forcing her to wear one of their saggy bedsheet togas. The thought alone made her shudder.

Part of Aera also wanted to turn back—the furious part. She wanted to pull a total Elsa moment, remove her long, satin gloves, and go back there to give that Jason Grace a major dressing down.

After everything they had been through, how could he betray her?

Aera had showed Jason everything he needed to have a good time in San Francisco: a 5-star spa resort, her black credit card that had no limit, an expensive makeover, even her heart-stirring powers, which not many could live to tell the tale about. Jason had taken advantage of all of that. He couldn't get away with that while she was out here freezing to death in her Jimmy Choo's.

Not long ago, Aera had sworn that she would never let the heart of someone who deceived her beat any second longer if she could help it. But when she tried to go back the way she came, the ice pricked at her skin, stinging and stinging across her cheeks and bare legs until Aera couldn't take it anymore and complied to its prickly nature.

Whichever path she was endeavoring now was forged solely by the blizzard, which was unusual considering it was the end of November in San Francisco. Sadly, the only other problem with blindly running high-heel-first into a thick snow squall (besides the insufferable splatter of powdery snow onto your new designer faux fur coat) was that Aera had no clue where she was going. Like, at all.

She held onto the vague intuition she was still somewhere on the cluster of Oakland Hills those badly-dressed barbarians had dragged her to, chains and gags and all, but she wasn't sure which way was far away enough. The farther she hiked, the more disoriented her senses became, blurring in the glacial tempest.

By the time she reached the summit, Aera was ready for a face mask and a nice foot massage. Thankfully, the heavy snowfall had subsided to powdery sprinkles of ice at the higher altitude. The winds were kinder and lighter, in favor of the thin miniskirt Aera wore under her coat. Compact mounds of snow fenced around the edges of the hilltop like large, white boxes. Stretching below was a wide valley spotted with a neat grid of buildings: Camp Jupiter.

During their rendezvous, Jason had fondly described New Rome to Aera several times in great detail—boasting of colorful villas, fancy fountains, and lovely gardens, but seeing the view from the hilltops kindled a different sense of bitterness altogether.

The mountains had been swallowed by the strange winter season, but the valley seemed immune to the cold, as if there were a magical barrier separating it from the outside world. There was no trace of precipitation in the valley; only sunlight.

Temples and forums gleamed against the horizon. Aera recognized a few of the snooze fest landmarks Jason had gushed to her about—the hippodrome, the coliseum, and the neighborhood of the Seven Hills. A glittering river snaked across lush pastures...wait a second, were those unicorns?

Aera wasn't welcome to her newfound epiphany but she suddenly understood why Jason's homesickness couldn't be cured, no matter how fun their seven-day rendezvous had been. There might not have been a beauty salon in sight, but still, his home was captivating. It was radiant and full of warmth and it wasn't built of the ruins he created. Not like hers was. Plus, they had unicorns. So unfair.

Aera might have spent the rest of her late afternoon brooding on that hilltop like some sad second female lead in a tragic chick flick until the Romans discovered her and tortured her with their tasteless fashion had the wind not so hastily flipped directions. It was as if the icy wind was urging her to the left, riveting her attention down towards a flash of silver against a mound of snow.

Curiously, Aera approached the side of the cliff and dusted off a layer of snow. It took a moment, as she had to be careful not to permanently water-stain the long, black opera satin gloves she wore (she would not disgrace her idol Audrey Hepburn like that). When she uncovered what was underneath, a gasp trapped itself in her diamond-wrapped throat.

Lodged into the edge of the cliff was a metal sign painted with a symbol of a silver scythe. In the pile of snow next to it was a small silver match box with the same symbol etched onto it. Wait a second. That meant this was one of—

"There!" a voice sliced finely through the cloudy nebulae of her notions.

At least a dozen Romans swarmed the mountain path around her. All of them were decked in the same bizarrely mixed uniform: oversized metal breastplates, ugly plumed helmets, purple cotton tees, and sword scabbards hanging from their jean buckles.

Concealing the matchbox behind her, Aera held back a grimace the way she always did when her eyes were unfortunate enough to graze upon these losers. Whoever taught them how to fight clearly did not teach them how to dress. They formed orderly ranks in some kind of wedge formation, systematically readying their golden swords at their target—her.

Aera waved cheerfully to them as if they were campers passing each other by on a casual mountain hike. "Hi!"

No response.

Aera lowered her hand indignantly. She had suspected just as much. Death-dishing robots weren't really creations of social niceties, were they?

The center of the wedge separated for a short and buff Filipino girl to come through. Aera's expression lightened when she registered her face. Poppy Martinez. Fitted with the biceps of a bodybuilder and a contrasting set of pouty lips, Poppy was Jason's second-in-command and the daughter of Demeter—or Ceres, take your pick. (It took Aera bothering Jason all breakfast for him to confirm that Honey Bunches of Oats were still Honey Bunches of Oats in Roman form.)

They didn't know each other long but the pair already shared a long, eventful history of Aera escaping her capture in the most stylish ways, whether it be through flying away in the hand of Poppy's commander like Peter Pan and Wendy or most recently, a bloody nose during Aera's grand getaway not ten minutes earlier. When the two girls locked eyes, Poppy sent Aera a death glare to end all death glares.

"New look?" Aera smirked at the bloody tissue rolls stuffed up her nose. "How cute. Those tissues really bring out the murderous wrath in your eyes."

Poppy impressively huffed out both tissues at the same time. "Give up!" she barked. "You're surrounded. Surrender now!"

Aera's smirk melted into a tantalizing smile. "I appreciate the love, sweetheart, but that won't be necessary."

"You're out of tricks," Poppy said through gritted teeth. "Terminus will be here any second now to bring you into the Senate. There's nowhere for you to run this time. You won't be getting away from the god of boundaries."

Terminus? God of boundaries? Aera wanted to roll her eyes to Jupiter. If she had a drachma for every time the nonsensical ways of the Romans was lost on her, she'd have enough to purchase the whole Roman Empire and give them some taste.

"No thanks," Aera said airily, tossing her silky hair over her shoulder.

"No thanks?" Poppy repeated hotly.

Aera sniffed. "Yeah, I'm not really into the Senate court trial thing. That sounds pretty boring. Plus, I don't think there'd be a mirror there to check my reflection, so I'll pass."

"That's not up to you!" Poppy exclaimed.

Aera tilted her head at the other girl, amused. There was nothing that cheered her up more than a cute girl who was mad at her. "Isn't it?"

Poppy turned purple, her knuckles white on the hilt of her sword.

Truthfully, Aera was only trying to keep her own cool. Messing with an uptight cutie may have been fun, but she needed a plan, and a plan fast. Even she wasn't thickheaded enough to believe she could charge this many opponents at a time. A week ago, maybe, just to show them how dazzling she was, but that was before she found out who these style-inept brutes were.

These weren't ordinary, run-of-the-mill, no fashion-sense opponents; these were disciplined soldiers trained for war, deadly weapons made to conquer empires. Most deterring of all was that they weren't the monsters Aera slew on the daily; they were her kind—demigods. Only by some sick, twisted birthright, they were supposed to be her natural sworn enemies...

They are not your kin, a chilly whisper in the icy wind murmured in Aera's ear—the same whisper that encouraged her to come to San Francisco eight days ago on her own; and the same whisper that led her straight to the site of a dead Roman boy where she was discovered by his brethren. They will not spare you if you show them mercy. You already have the materials you need.

Aera gripped the silver match box she kept hidden in her palm. Before she could make her move, the wedge parted yet again. This time Aera's expression soured when she registered their leader's face.

She considered him coldly. "Jason Grace."

"Aera," he breathed. He was panting unevenly as if he had ran the whole way up the mountain, which seemed stupid to Aera since he could fly. He was still wearing the pristine clothing she'd bought him from the shopping mall. His previously neat blond hair was messy from ruffling in the wind. His soft blue eyes were illuminated with attentiveness, like lightning in a bottle, making him appear rugged and in control—an image that evoked the semblance of a true prince-in-waiting.

She hated him.

"What part of 'don't ever show your face to me again' do you not understand?" Aera snapped.

"I know you're angry with me," he said, taking one careful step toward her and stopping immediately, "but this is all a misunderstanding. Let me explain."

Another trick, the chilly whisper told Aera. Only a fool falls for the same deception twice. Are you a fool, Aera Kim?

Swallowing her pride, Aera lifted her chin high. "I'm through listening to your lies. Call off your little gang of gladiators now." She tried to load her anger into her words, but charmspeak wasn't her gift. She had no power in her voice.

Her confidence continued to tremble when Jason shook his head. "No one has to get hurt, Aera. All you have to do is come with us and let them—"

"Chain me up again?" Aera suggested scathingly. "Throw me into some witch dungeon and then burn me at the stake?"

"You can prove your innocence to the Senate," Jason promised, more desperately this time. "If you tell them the truth, you'll be treated fairly—"

"There's nothing fair about thirteen on one."

Jason opened his mouth just to close it. His uncertainty was reflected by his stiffened jaw. It seemed to finally sink in that there would be no happy ending for Aera once she entered New Rome. So, there was a brain inside all that muscle.

"She's a graecus, Jason," Poppy told him, egging him on. "She killed Nathaniel. She's not a Roman. We have to bring her in. She's led this on this stupid game of tag for too long."

Jason paused, as if only now noticing how many eager eyes were latched onto him, awaiting his next call.

He won't choose you, the frosty voice whispered. Someone who betrays you will never be able to keep you safe.

"No." Aera forced down her feelings before Jason could come up with something that would surely snap her heart to pieces. "I'm not going anywhere with you."

Poppy's eyes flared with hostility. "It's not up to—"

"I said," Aera simmered, thoroughly pissed now. "I'm not going anywhere with you."

As if the snow was listening, the melting ice around the summit sloughed off in a flood of slush and mud. Several Romans lurched back in surprise. Surrounding the full perimeter, a set of large wooden crates were stacked with neon green capsules that scintillated with electricity. Snow fell from the wooden post, uncovering the symbol of a silver scythe.

"J-Jason," one of his soldiers stammered out, his eyes bulging out of his helmet. "That-That's the symbol of...of..."

"Kronos," Aera said tonelessly, ignoring the lump that was forming in her throat. It didn't take long before each of them emanated the fear and uncertainty that arose from the weight of his name. They were right where she wanted them. "You see, the Titan King had a bad habit of hoarding weapons and never using them. That's how we were defeated."

"We?" Jason demanded. "What are you talking about?"

"Oakland Hills has been rigged with Greek fire," Aera explained, skipping over his question like an old issue in a Vogue magazine. "You ugly baboons probably don't know what that is, but one little spark is all it's going to take to blow this whole place up like dynamite."

Disarray broke out within the Romans as they cautiously studied the green jars from a wary distance. For the first time ever, Aera commended Luke's paranoiac aptitude. If it weren't for his brilliant idea of storing their explosives in the hills around Mount Orthys, she would have been completely backed into a corner. Luke...

Jason is no different from the others, the chilly whisper told Aera as a heavy sadness weighed on her chest. You know what you have to do.

Aera brought out the silver match box and sparked it ablaze.

"Are you out of your mind?" Poppy yelled, as their soldiers shuffled in panic.

"A little?" Aera offered, hovering the match box over the nearest crate. "Wanna see how much?"

"Stop," Jason commanded, but Aera could hear the frantic notes in his proud voice. "That's enough."

"It's enough when I say it's enough," she seethed. "And right now, I haven't had enough."

"Aera," Jason said, slower and tamer this time. "Why are you doing this? We'll all die."

Aera hesitated. Her brain felt hazy and separate from her body like she was sleepwalking. Why did she want to do this? Jason was right. No one would survive this explosion. Luke had spent countless nights drilling her about the risks of Greek fire. She had witnessed firsthand just how catastrophic the nuclear power of Greek fire was when the Princess Andromeda got blown up and Beckendorf's life was taken in the explosion...

You have lost enough, the chilly whisper told her. Friends. Lovers. Family. You have no one left. They are a threat. You were born to eliminate each other. Make the first move. Or be destroyed.

Jason stepped forward. "Aera," he said again, desperation swimming in his eyes. He held out his hand to her. "Please."

His movement caught Aera's eye. Around his wrist was a steel watch—the most expensive one she could find in all of San Francisco. Aera remembered how excited she had been to give him that accessory just that morning. Her mind had been seized by the hope that the more pretty things she showed him, the less tempted he would be to leave her and return home. She thought she could buy his time away from his old life.

But right underneath that watch were twelve bars and an eagle branded deeply into his skin—tattoos that served as a permanent reminder that he was Roman. Jason had a whole city waiting for him to return, a legion counting on him to lead them to glory. What was a watch compared to an empire? Aera had been too wrapped up in his affections to foresee this. Now, the only thing left for her to do was show the Roman praetor how much it burned to cross paths with a Greek.

Aera willed her rattled breath to slack and radiated a dazzling smile—the last smile any of them were ever going to see. "They say, 'When in Rome, do as the Romans do'. But we're not in Rome, are we? We're in the Titans' territory. New Rome, if you wanna call it. And when in New Rome..." Aera waved the silver match box around in one last grand gesture. "I make the rules."

Jason rushed to her, as did the rest of the Romans, but it was too late. Aera dropped the match and Oakland Hills exploded in green flames.