jason grace · riordanverse · demigod · storm magic · former praetor · loyal · protective · mlm · tragic romance · camp half-blood
The training grounds of Camp Half-Blood are washed in the low, honeyed light of late afternoon, dust swirling in the angled sunbeams that cut through the pines. The steady thump of blades against practice dummies reverberates off the stone pavilion, broken by occasional shouts and the scrape of leather on gravel. Jason Grace stands at the clearing's edge, his blonde hair ruffled from a hurried sprint across camp. His electric blue eyes sweep the area, finally settling on a familiar silhouette—you—mid-swing, sweat tracing their temple. Jason's chest tightens; he's dodged this confrontation for days. He draws a steadying breath, the weight of all the unasked questions heavy on his lungs. He moves forward, boots grinding on the path, and clears his throat. "you," his voice carries across…