Eternal disclaimer: I owe nothing for the rest of this fic.

Even from here, Jason could hear them. The crowd, out there sitting in their seats, pounding their feet against the dirt ground and calling for blood, for entertainment. He lifted a cracked mug to his lips and swallowed, letting the cool water run down his slightly parched throat and hydrate him.

"Your helmet, sir," his attendant told him politely, handing him the headgear that could save him from death or serious injury. Nodding, Jason set aside the cup, took the worked metal and slipped it over his blond hair, making sure it was fit before taking out his golden coin from his pocket.

The servant stepped back as Jason flipped it into the golden sword, and caught it neatly.

A few experimental twirls, stabs in the air, and some movement to warm his muscles up, and he was ready. A nod to the servant, and he understood, opening the door.

The attendant led him down the dark corridor, pausing at the doors to go and whisper to the gate-guards to get ready. Jason waited until the gates opened, pouring the lights of Apollo's chariot into the dark underground, and walked out.

Heart pounding, Jason stepped into the arena, where he was met with a roar of welcome from the audience, all hungry for blood.

Whether it was for his, or his opponents, it didn't matter for them. Audiences were like that, loving the winners with adoration to rival the worship for gods, but when any of the special, 'love-of-their-lives' happened to lose, then the fighters would be pushed to the back of their minds, forgotten in the dust for a new person to fawn over.

He allowed one frown at the repetitive nature before he smoothed his face over again, and gripped his golden sword.

Pity for the other opponents. Unlike them, he knew how to play the crowd. And he had a reason to win, a reason far more important than the rest of theirs put together.

A pair of colour-shifting kaleidoscope eyes flashed in his mind, warming his heart, just a little.

Facing the other man in armour, he waited for Octavian to give the signal. Sneering, the other blond man did so.

"Begin!"

Jason charged, a blur of gold and metal.

One Year ago

A teenage boy around fifteen years of age stood in line, near the entrance of the city where guards were examining people and letting them past the gates. He had on a ragged, dirty cloak, with travel-worn clothing and a dusty pack on his back. Beneath the thinned hood, blond hair could be seen, the longer strands occasionally poking him in his sky-blue eyes. Currently, he stood behind a stuttering old woman, who was murmuring her excuses about her daughter giving birth. The guard looked bored.

"Next," the guard droned, waving past the old woman who hobbled into the city. "Name, reasons why you're coming, and identification."

"Jason Grace," the blond boy answered easily. "I'm here to try out for the Warrior competition that His Highness was holding. Uh, here's my-"

Jason sounded like a country kid, unsure and blabbing about himself, still thinking that everything would work out like a fairy tale. It was perfect. The guard barely glanced at the wooden tablet before waving him past the gate. "Next."

"Thank you, sir," he said, nothing in his voice betraying any of his real emotions. Only gratefulness could be heard as Jason slipped past.

If his sources were right (and he knew they were) then the sign-up for the tournament would be at the biggest building in the western part of the city. He had studied all the maps, of the main streets, the side alleys, and even some of the secret tunnels, and knew the city like the back of his hand.

Jason still went up and asked for directions, nodding in confirmation to the kind people passing by, and thanking them politely for the information he already knew. If anyone who didn't know him saw him, they would have thought that he was a new person to the city, someone who wanted to get a new future. That was the way he planned to keep it.

Grinning at the man in charge of writing down challengers, Jason took the carved tablet confirming his participation in the tournament, and followed the other men who had signed up (from now on, they were simply the opponents, that he would have to cut down. No names were needed) to their dorms.

It was a small room, but he wouldn't have to share, and there was a window and a bed. Surprisingly better than he had expected. Jason threw his bag onto the foot of his bed, and sat heavily on the hard mattress.

Phase one complete.

A soft knock rapped against the wooden door.

"Yes?" Jason asked, not getting off the bed. Keep up the farce, the charade, and ensure that no one suspects who you truly are. You are a country boy, someone who has no special skills currently.

A servant woman popped her head in. "Supper starts in ten minutes!" she told him cheerfully. "Just make your way down to the main hall, alright?"

"Thank you," he smiled at her, knowing the effects it would have.

It hit her much harder than he had thought. Blushing and giggling, the girl sent a dazed smile to him before shutting the door.

Greeks.

He stood up, pausing to check if his coin was in his pocket (it was) before stretching and exiting the room.

Time to scope out the enemy.

Loud, chaotic, dirty, and dark. That was his thoughts on the main hall. Hiding the wrinkling of his nose, Jason grabbed a plate and sat anywhere, ignoring the loud people roaring on about something or another, and stuffed the surprisingly good stew and bread into his mouth. For a moment, he let the savory flavours roll around on his tongue, relaxing.

A commotion, particularly loud and disruptive even here, caught his eye. Two large men had stood up suddenly, knocking down both the benches and the people that had been sitting on them, and were snarling at each other.

"Oh yeah?" One man yelled into his friend/enemy's face. Jason chewed, and swallowed, still studying the two. Both men looked like gorillas, a creature he had seen once when an odd travelling circus had come in for entertainment. They looked dumber than the gentle creatures, and more violent, with a tad bit more hair, but other than that, they were a dead ringer.

"Duh, yeah!" the other man yelled back, gross spittle flying everywhere.

"What are they fighting about?" he whispered to no one in particular.

The guy sitting next to him decided to answer, anyways. "Probably about who'll win the competition."

Jason took a good look at the man who had answered. Blond hair, sharp gray eyes, and lean muscles. Jason instantly put down this guy as a potential threat.

He knew better than to act like it, though. "Name's Jason," he grinned at him, an attempt to be friendly.

His acquaintance nodded back. "Malcolm."

"Nice to meet you."

"Thanks, you too."

It went back to silent chewing for the both of them, letting themselves be drowned out by the loud yells and occasional breaks of the pottery.

Scraping the last bit of the vegetable stew into his mouth, Jason stood with the plates and began to walk over to the servants at the counter serving and taking dishes when one of the gorillas finally broke.

"No one insults my mother!" he yelled, and smashed the plate onto the other gorilla's head.

Sharp sounds of breaking pottery. Sudden smell of blood, yells of shock, guards coming in. Jason's head took on a familiar system, categorizing everything surrounding him as he surveyed the potential danger.

If the guards, or anyone did not get this situation under control, something seriously bad could happen. There were two guards, and Jason was pretty sure they weren't going to be able to take on the murderous gorilla. He knew he was more than capable of taking him down.

On the other hand, Jason was supposed to stay inconspicuous. Normal people did not charge heroically into a fight and break it up methodically.

Well, that settled things. The mission was more important. Jason handed his plate to the servant, and then stepped closer to the wall, watching as the smaller satyrs hired as guards came running in to try and stop the rumble. They were doing rather miserable jobs of it, and it seemed like this would go on for hours-

"FREEZE!"

Every living thing in the large room did exactly that; they froze, not daring to breath. Jason turned his head a fraction of an inch to the direction where the command had come from.

A large woman stood at the entrance of the room, and she was scowling menacingly at the lot of them. It really did not help that she had about a dozen weapons strapped to her armoured, beefy body, or the fact that she was bigger than the rest of them.

"What," she gritted out. "Is this?"

One of the servants ran up and whispered something, which the woman crouched down to hear for the shorter girl. "I see," she answered, and as she looked down at the girl, Jason saw something similar to tenderness in her face.

Whatever that was, it vanished the second she looked up. "You worthless maggots!" she screamed, and Jason swore, later, that all the birds in the trees fell silent and flew away as fast as they could. "What are you, some cheap, D-rate soldiers?"

"No," the entire room mumbled like little children being scolded.

"Well?" she demanded, and then took a deep breath, calming slightly. The keyword being 'slightly'.

"You are all here to fight," she began. "But this, this is not the time, nor the place. All of you have come to prove yourself good enough to be members of the Royal Guards, have you not?"

"Yeah!" the men in the room cheered back.

"I didn't say you could speak!" she snapped, and the men closest to her flinched. By closest, he meant about a ten-yard radius around her. "Prove that you are fit to be proud members of the Royal Guards, not some brawling gutless street trash!"

Jason was pretty impressed. This woman was almost Roman, in the way that she commanded everyone. For a Greek, she wasn't half bad.

"Get back to what you were doing," she ordered, her voice not giving any room for arguments. "And the next person to start such a thing gets ten lashes."

The men did, albeit much more quietly and calmly. Rolling his eyes, Jason left the dining hall.

"P-please don't…"

"Shut up, slut."

"I'm not a slut!"

The sound of a harsh slap. "I said shut up!"

Whimpers.

Should he intervene? Jason didn't really want to risk the mission and end up losing the one person he really cared about, but he felt sorry for the servant girl.

Of course, if a masked person happened to come across the sight and be a hero, there really was no way anyone would think it was him, would they? Besides, Thalia would want him to save the girl.

Jason grabbed the hooded cloak and wrapped it around his head tightly. Grabbing the issued practice sword made out of wood instead of his magic coin, he slipped out silently from the door, and slunk to the bend in the hallway, where he saw the large man from earlier holding one of the younger servant girls to the wall, a hairy rough hand covering her mouth.

He didn't like people who abused their powers. This man was abusing his strengths against a young girl who could have been his daughter. Therefore, Jason had some kind of an excuse to help the young maidservant.

Jason smashed the flat of his wooden sword at the side of his head, and the man crumpled, not expecting the hit.

The girl squeaked in surprise as her harasser collapsed on her. Jason yanked her out from under the heavy meatbag, and gestured at her to leave quickly. She did so, not wanting to stick around. Smart of her.

Grunting slightly, Jason hefted the man onto his shoulders, and walked to the far window, where he threw the unconscious man out of the opening. He landed in what looked like a thorn bush. Ouch.

Dusting his hands of invisible dirt, Jason made his way back to his room, careful to make sure no one noticed him, and quietly closed the door. He piled the wooden sword and a few other things against the door in a way that would make a lot of noise if anyone tried to come in secretly, and lay back down on his bed, making sure to remove his hood.

Throwing the cloak/headscarf against the wall on the other side of the room, Jason closed his eyes and fell asleep almost instantly. He had a big day ahead of him tomorrow, and he'd prefer to be well-rested.

I was listening to a song, and reading Lulunoel's Unmatched (check it out, folks), when this idea hit me. The first person to correctly guess which song I was listening to gets a fic with a pairing of their choice dedicated to them.

As I'm sure you all know, this is AU. It'll also be updated slowly, but I have about seven other fics to juggle around, so bear with me, and if you can, check them out too. Oh, and vote on my poll, would you? Reviews are appreciated, thank you for reading!