CATHARSIS, jason grace¹

𝟬𝟭𝟰. what's up, your majesty?

"WHAT'S THE MATTER WITH YOU?" Jason seized Aera's wrist before she could get any further. "We're in a forest infested with monsters. Starting a fire here will get us killed."

Aera violently yanked her arm away. "Freezing to death will do the job faster."

"We won't freeze to death," Jason told her irritably.

"Speak for yourself," she grumbled, hugging herself and shuddering. Now that they had reached shelter from the snowstorm, Jason finally noticed how pink her cheeks, nose, and eyes had turned from the cold. Not to mention she was wearing a mini skirt and a thin blouse in nearly subzero weather. Jason had three layers on and he could still feel the cold lingering on his skin. It was a mystery how she hadn't frozen over like one of the ice soldiers chasing after them.

As if hearing his silent censure, Aera gave him a pink glare of her eyes from the rock she was sitting on. "Oh, would you relax, Man vs. Wild? Your anxiety is giving me stress wrinkles. No monster's gonna find us in this storm."

For once, Jason hoped she was right. They were stranded, snowed into some cave in the middle of the mountains. Jason had never seen a snowstorm this thick before. It was unnatural, just like everything else that had happened this week: the surge in monster attacks, the ambushes, the missing demigods...

If those ice soldiers came back again, they'd be forced to fight. Jason wasn't too fond of the idea of trusting her to have his back.

Foolishly ignoring the risk of being discovered, Aera ignored his advice, bent over, and started trying to make a fire again. For someone who was supposed to be a prisoner, she was obnoxiously impertinent...and a complete pain in Jason's―

"There's more than one way to approach a situation, you know," she stated in a matter-of-fact voice. "Are all Romans this narrow-minded?"

"Are all Greeks this negligent?" Jason watched with immense disdain as she rubbed the branches together with little force. "You won't be able to start a fire that way. You're not making enough friction."

"No, what's negligent is your ugly little bedsheet dress," she retorted, not even looking up from her bed of wood or reconstructing her tactic. "It's completely soaked. You look like a wet ghost. Are you not going to take it off?"

"It's nothing," Jason insisted through gritted teeth. He sat down on the opposite wall of the cave in his drenched clothing. He was wearing an undershirt, a sweatshirt, and his toga (what Aera probably meant by "ugly little bedsheet dress"). The ice cold wetness of his clothes was starting to tingle his skin but he had endured much worse. Jason usually didn't care what others thought of him, but it was slanderous how much derision she held toward his attire. She had to understand it was a symbol of honor and respect. "A true Roman never sheds his loyalties, no matter the hardship."

Aera rolled her eyes. "Well, I just threw up in my mouth."

Jason shook his head, crossing his arms. "You wouldn't get it."

"Oh, excuse me," she said sarcastically. "The ways of the barbarians are often lost on me."

The hairs on Jason's arm stood up the way it did right before he charged a group of monsters. "We aren't barbarians."

"Then why do you dress like one?"

"You—" Jason choked at a total loss for words. He had been raised by wolves and trained into the perfect soldier. Still, never had he ever been insulted so brutally and without remorse. "Why do you act like that?"

The architect of his misery tilted her head at him, amused. "Like what, dare I ask?"

"Like..." Jason observed her. Even though her clothes were tattered at the seams and her hair frizzy, she radiated an aura of power that gave Jason the impression if he was uncareful and got too close, it would devour him whole. Aera had the timeless beauty of divinity, with captivating brown eyes and glowing skin. The longer he stared at her, the more Jason wanted to do something completely uncharacteristic and completely uncalled for, like kneel at her feet and worship her.