"You don't know me, do you?" His hair is black and his eyes are green and piercing. Jason thinks this is the strangest boy he's ever met. Not for any trait of feature, or his face, it's how everyone else seems blind to the likes of him. Jason stands in front of him, numb to the world, but he sees it – he just can't care. He is more important, and no one seems to be seeing them. Literally not, worse, far worse is that he thinks he's the only one seeing this eerie boy. Anyone else who looks this way, their eyes sort of pass this boy by, seeing through him. Jason takes a breath. This is wrong; it twists in his gut, cold like snakes.
"Who are you?" Jason asks it, but what he really means is: who am I. what makes me so great that you frown at me, that you know who I am and care when – when no one else seems to even know.
"That doesn't matter. What matters is I've found you." Green eyes flick over everyone, measuring them. As if Jason's thief might be around here even now. Jason feels as if he's seen this boy do this before, many times. As if anyone could be a threat. Jason snorts, but he doesn't know why, only that the idea of harm being brought upon Harry….Harry! Jason grins, knowing this boy's name is for sure the first thing he knows about, about whom he is. It's right.
Green eyes flick to him, amused, and Jason realizes, with a flush, that he'd said Harry's name aloud. He isn't supposed to do that. He doesn't know why not, but it is not to be done. It's not somehow allowed, as if it's a secret that they know each other and are… friendly.
"That's right." Harry affirms, soft and confident. As if he knew all along Jason could do this, could remember. It's a warm feeling that fills him up, as if he's going to choke. Jason realizes he's missed this, missed Harry. And he didn't even know it until this relief fills him up with hope. Seeing Harry is like being home, if ever Jason has had a home.
"What's happened?" Jason asks Harry, because if anyone ought to know, it's Harry. Just like that, Jason knows he and Harry are more then merely friends, they are loyal to each other together and apart, they are legionary. Stronger together then apart.
"Juno doesn't like you." Harry prompts, though there is a twist in his lips. It's suddenly as if they've had this conversation before, Jason finds words tumbling out eagerly from his lips. He doesn't know what he's going to say before he's heard it.
"Duh." Juno is someone he's feared all his life. She wants his life, but Harry…Harry made a deal with, with….
"Pluto!" He exclaims, like a blessing. He feels like weeping with relief. He's safe, there is something sure and stable in his life, and it begins and ends with this boy. Harry is the only son of Pluto, Proserpina willingly gave blessing upon the union of Pluto and Lily, for a son to be born…and they, son of Pluto and son of Jupiter, together they are something obscene.
Harry will not have it any other way and Harry is all but an immortal god in his own way. For never will Pluto allow harm to come upon his child.
"Bingo boyo." Harry winks, and warps an arm about Jason's neck, and his skin is hot and he wants to press in closer. It's a relief to feel this familiarity, like something – someone – meaning more then his memory is returned to him with this embrace willingly given. Harry chuckles, dark and full of promise, later, later his heartbeat seems to say.
"Believing in me?" Harry asks, as if he doesn't already know that Jason would never willingly leave his side. That he hates Juno for what she has done in parting them.
"Always." Jason swears, and they are elsewhere, shadows swallowing them up. He isn't afraid, for he has always traveled this way with Harry. When he opens his eyes, it is the Underworld he sees and knows best. A hallway gothic and arching up into the air as if the earth does not press down upon them, it leads to Harry's bedroom, the door always open. They strand together in the courtyard, where a fountain stands, above water trickles in circles and dancing patterns, changing and forgetful, bellow the water is gathered in a bowl that Jason can't see the bottom of. Harry takes the goblet that sits on the rim, as if he had planned this, and fills the goblet with the water that is solemn and deep.
"Drink…." Harry offers - Jason swallows down his fear at this. Never has he eaten or drunk anything in the Underworld, his own father is Jupiter, sky father, and he loves the feel of air about him as he flies. It has to be his choice, as it was Proserpina's own once. He takes it though, because he trusts Harry in this, and he drinks and its bitter water, and he doesn't know what he'd been expecting when he closed his eyes.
He opens them, and Harry still means the same to him, but all else has shifted. He knows what he's done, what he's going to do. Knows that the water he drank was Moneta's gift, of memory.
"Thanks." Jason says, with a grin.
"What, my son, will you do now?" Proserpina asks, her eyes glinting in the shadows as she strides forward, her hands reaches absently for Harry's head – her hand wrapping about his neck, her fingers playing in his black hair. It is a gesture that reminds Jason that Harry isn't his alone. It's just as Proserpina intended, for Harry is not Pluto's heir alone – he is hers. This is a reminder he must grit his teeth through and be still to stay sane. To have them on his side is what he wants, what Harry needs, they are a fierce and unyielding pair, deaf to prayers and unappeased by sacrifices, they are the harnessers of death. The King and Queen who rule here, and bow their heads to no rule but their own, to them even Ceres, even Jupiter, cede to their rights.
"I would have words with Juno, mother, for what she stole from Jason, and stole Jason again – from me." Harry has his father's sense of possession and temper. He is a force of his own will, and so long as Proserpina and Pluto stand at his side and smile, he will always be.
"Then go and speak with Juno." Proserpina smiles, and it is proud, as she kisses Harry's brow. The mark there is of lightning, for Harry's name is Fulmen.