A Crown of Golden Leaves
by Kitty
September 17, 2016

"A study in scarlet, eh? Why shouldn't we use a little art jargon? There's the scarlet thread of murder running through the colourless skein of life, and our duty is to unravel it, and isolate it, and expose every inch of it." – Arthur Conan Doyle

Caput XL: Unravel

IT didn't take much for Percy to convince his pater to allow him access to the forbidden part of the bibliotheca; if anything, pater was a little too quick to agree to Jason's suggestion. The next morning, he jabbed Annabeth to get her to roll off his chest to face the brisk chill after another late night between paperwork and sparring with her. (He still wasn't sure how she had managed to convince him to go outside in the freezing air. He hated winter and its continuous rain.)

He pulled on his boots instead of his sandals (another reason why he hated Winter) and a cloak to keep warm, closing the door behind him with a firm click. Grover must have already woken since the hearth was already lit, but the faun was nowhere in sight. Silently, he left their wing of the castle and crept through the silent halls.

It was too quiet. He was an early riser by nature (he had too much energy to sleep in), and he wandered these halls a lot at night whenever he couldn't sleep. Usually slaves and servants were up and about at this hour, preparing to meet their master's needs, but now it was just still. There was no movement in the air, a lack of life seemingly.

Percy scowled and quickened his pace. Hopefully, it was just the first freeze of winter keeping everyone inside since it was earlier than usual this year and not this plague. As bad as winter could get at times, it was natural. It came and it went and it was constant; reliable. You were able to plan for it and prepare to weather through it most of the time.

Well, – He slipped out of the citadel and entered the not-quite-as-still streets; at least there seemed to be life here – the only way to cure this illness is to understand what it is. Hopefully, we'll be able to get it under control soon... I don't want too many people to suffer.

He smiled to himself as something came to him – a half remembered memory, of sorts. It would be easier if he was a mere circus performer; at least he wouldn't have these doubts eating at his conscious, making him second guess every step he took.

Although second guessing himself made him double check everything he did, which he was certain most of the Senators did not do.

Still, he would rather be able to say what he really thought and not fear to invoke some kingdom's wrath upon his country. That was definitely something he wished he could do but had always been too much of a coward to speak out. It was one of Annabeth's qualities that he envied at times; saying what she meant, without hiding her intent behind pretty words, was something she excelled at... even though it ruffled many feathers. Including his at times.

But he was beginning to realize that whenever he didn't like hearing what she was telling him, he needed to listen to her the most. She never sugarcoated the truth and her opinion was usually sound. It might have been funny – if it hadn't been so sad – that an uneducated woman was wiser than the most respected philosophers and attorneys.

The bibliotheca came into view, so Percy quickened his pace until he was slowly jogging. A lone soul sat on the shadows of an alley, curled into a threadbare blanket, and it reminded him vividly of how he had found Jason that one time when he had managed to shake off his bodyguards.

It also reminded him of how he had taken a wrong turn and ended up in a gang's territory when he had been a child. They had been fighting with a rival gang at the time; he could still remember the tension as they had demanded for him to tell him who he was and where he had come from and for whom he worked. Mostly the last one. They had expected a spy from the boy who had been covered in soot with a torn cloak, not the son of one of the consuls, and he had been too proud to say who he was to the street urchins. He probably would have been injured or worse if Jason hadn't found him and convinced the mobsters that he wasn't from their rivals in time.

That had also been when he had begun to (grudgingly) respect the older boy who had been as high as a bird on some hallucinogen when he had first stumbled on him with Rachel.

Shaking the thoughts out his head literally, Percy skipped two steps as he darted up the stairs to enter the bibliotheca, barely remembering to close the door behind him. He took a deep breath and smoothed his toga down, mostly to have something to do with his hands. Glancing around, he spied Reyna's familiar, dark head slumped over a table and moved forward, intending to shake her awake. From personal experience, he knew that sleeping in that position would give someone a crick in their neck, but she moved and lifted her head and blinked at him.

"Salve?" she greeted, sounding more like she was asking a question. Her voice was unusually hoarse and he wished water was allowed in the bibliotheca – but books were a precious (and expensive) resource and anything that could potentially harm them was automatically forbidden. She grimaced as she slowly rolled her neck and shoulders in a small circle. "Ugh, I didn't mean to fall asleep."

"How come you're down here anyway?" He sat down across from her, drawing the cloak and a book closer, still shivering. He blew hard to make sure he couldn't see his breath fogging in the air – it had happened before – but nothing happened. "It's freezing down here."

A smile played at her lips. "You know, you could offer up your cloak to me since it's oh-so-cold and I've been here all night long."

"No," he said bluntly. "Mine. I'm not sharing. And don't try to dodge."

She rolled her eyes. "So childish."

"So is avoiding answering my question."

"Maybe I don't want to answer your question."

"Maybe you're trying to talk me in circles because you're grumpy. You've never been an early riser—Usually, I had to drag you out of bed. Or Jason." Her expression dimmed at Jason's name. He frowned. "Is there something going on with Jason?"

She shook her head. "It's nothing, Percy. Don't worry." That only made him worry more. She must have read his expression since she added, "It's just a rough spot we're working through," even though she probably hadn't wanted to say that much. She was a private individual, even with him; the only times she ever confided in him was when he had pushed her, and never on her own initiative.

He wanted to pursue his question further, but he had the feeling that he might not like the answer, so he decided to drop it for now. "If you ask, I'll punch him for you."

She smiled slightly, a little wider, a little warmer. "You realize that I punched him for you when he was being an ass to Rachel, remember?"

He shrugged, unable to avoid chuckling. "Well, you've always been more of a boy than I am." She stuck her tongue out at him and he returned the favor by pulling a face. She laughed and winced immediately, rubbing her throat. He jerked his chin, throwing his head to the side. "Maybe you should get sleep? At least lay down over something that isn't a book."

She bit her lip. "I shouldn't. You need as many eyes and minds to read these books as possible."

"I can use your eyes or your mind if you don't take care of yourself first, Reyna." He kept his voice measured carefully so it wouldn't sound too cajoling; if she felt like he was trying to tell her what to do, she would just go and do the flat out opposite. And he didn't want to order her to bedrest if he could help it at all costs—She would give him the cold shoulder for a month.

A frustrated look entered her eyes as she pushed her chair back. Its legs scraped against the ground with a teeth-grating screech. She marched over to one of the subsellium, gave him a nasty glare that might have made him think twice about something a couple of years ago, and laid across it, curling one of her arms under her head. Her body was tense, and he noticed an odd shiver racked her form.

Well, he would take what he could get.

With a sigh, he unhooked the clasp on his cloak and draped it over her shoulders. He'll warm up once he starts carrying those books around anyway. Hopefully, it'll warm up later. Even if it didn't, he could just get another cloak.

"Thanks," she said, adjusting it so that it curled underneath her shoulders and bunched around her neck. He smiled slightly and turned, grabbing the set of keys the librarian had hidden behind a brick in the wall.

His eyes were drawn to the stained glass depiction of a man and a woman again. He wasn't sure if it was because they were both naked or if it was because of their identical expressions of pain, but he couldn't help but study the strange piece of art. Their limbs were contorted and tangled together, like their bodies had been sewn together with thread and needle. The woman's pale back was arched as she curved around the man and the man curled around her, his fingers tangled with hers. They could have been lovers or enemies, circling around each other in some kind of eternal dance.

It was a strange picture for a place like this. There was something about their expressions that looked like they were being tortured with something they couldn't have.

He might be just reading into it too much.

Shaking his head, he tore his eyes away from it. The others were similar: depictions of the Egyptian Moses parting the sea with the help of whichever god had taken favor, of Zeus and Hera ruling over the gods with their infinite generosity, of Odysseus fighting sea monsters to get home, the Trojan Horse being wheeled into Troy, the Greek-Persian sea battle, when the weak, puny Roman populus drove the mighty, warlike Gauls out of their tiny city...

Time passed slowly as Percy pulled book after book out of the vaults. He was used to physical activity, he was one of the best swordsmen, but this worked different muscles than swinging a sword around. Sweat clung to the back of his neck and his crown despite the chill, and he knew that he would have taken his cloak off eventually anyway. It was hard, draining labor—the kind that made you focus on what you were doing until your thoughts were muddled in the back of your head.

"Salve?" a hesitant voice startled him, and he dropped one of the older books off the top of his stack. He nearly snapped at the offender, but he was too out of breath, so he settled for a glare he had learned from one of the wolves his pere kept as pets. The man – boy? His face was rather round, though his body was too developed to belong to a boy – curled his shoulders inward slightly. "Sorry," he stooped and picked the book up. "I didn't mean to startle you, uh..."

Percy softened his glare into Reyna's level. "Try not to pay attention, okay? These are priceless and my pater would skin me alive if one of these got damaged."

"So would your wife," Annabeth added, coming around a corner. She kissed the corner of his mouth and smiled at him, and directed another – slightly different from the one she usually gifted him with – at the boy-man. He wondered where she had come from, and why she wasn't wearing a cloak when it was still really cold out. "Down that right?" she pointed and he nodded mutely. "I saw the ones you were piling by the table."

"Don't take more than three!" he called to her retreating back, finding his voice again. She waved at him absentmindedly, and he hoped she heard him. Probably already thinking about their contents. The boy-man shuffled, still looking unsure, and he studied him. Rather timid, but polite even if he didn't pay attention very well.

"I assume you are Heir Apparent Perseus."

Or maybe he did have enough spine to look him in the eye and was observant enough to connect the dots with a line.

"You assume correctly," he said. "Are you Praetor Jason's friend?"

He nodded. "I'm Frank Zhang." A last name? How odd. I don't even have a last name. "Put me to work, sire."

No nonsense too. "Follow me. As I told Annabeth, these books are priceless, and they're old. I'm not sure we'll be able to read the characters on some of the Egyptian ones; the ink is faded in several areas and the papyrus is brittle. Don't take so many that you'll drop one or two—It's better to take it in two trips." He placed his stack on top of another and dusted his hands off. Frank nodded, showing he understood.

Between the three of them, they managed to get the rest of the books out before midmorning. At some point, Reyna joined them, not looking quite as tired but Percy still wished she had slept longer. His stomach was growling as he stretched, trying to pop his aching muscles enough to get them to stop feeling uncomfortable. Annabeth sat down in the middle of a pile and immediately plucked the tome off the top.

"You need to eat," he said, wondering if this was going to get him anywhere. Annabeth gestured around the room vaguely. Probably not then; when she got like this she flat out refused to move. Sometimes, she didn't even hear him.

"Eat enough for me. I'm feeding on words."

"You can't eat paper, love."

She smiled, but didn't look up. "I'll eat later, Percy. Besides, there was food out so I ate some of that. I'm really not hungry."

He wanted to say something along the lines of eating sweets does not count as a nourishing breakfast, but there was no way she was going to listen to him. He'll just have to make her eat lunch later, even if he had to throw her over his shoulder and yank whatever book she was going through.

"Fine," he submitted a little unhappily. Her smile widened as she turned the page.

The floor creaked. Percy looked over his shoulder and saw Jason stumble into the cluttered work area. Something about his state made him feel uneasy. He did not look well at all. There were dark, black bruises underneath his eyes that contrasted sharply against his pale skin. Actually, his skin shouldn't be so pale it was almost gray...

"Jason? Are you okay?" Reyna asked, standing up and moving forward. Jason shook his head slowly, and then he nodded quickly. It was almost like he was drunk, but that was impossible because he stayed away from alcohol like it was the plague – anything addicting, really. Percy looked at Frank who offered him a shrug in return, concern visible in the man's knitted eyebrows.

"You look like you wrestled with a horse and lost," Percy decided to say bluntly. That should rouse a reaction out of him; if there was anything he hated, it was exaggeration. Jason lifted his head and blinked at him owlishly, but did not respond otherwise. Okay. Maybe he was ill?

... Is disorientation a symptom of this plague?

"I'm fine," Jason said, making a visible effort to straighten. His arms automatically lifted as he took half a step forward when he swayed slightly, but the poisonous glare directed at him stalled Percy. He didn't want help. "I just need to wake up." I'm not weak.

Percy wanted nothing more than to drag him to the physician's wing. Even when you were just waking up, you did not sway like that. Even if it was nothing and just a case of lack of sleep, he would rather be cautious and deal with the teasing that came in the aftermath than sorry he had missed something.

He exchanged a look with Reyna. She seemed skeptical.

Maybe, if he just gets worse, he'll take him up to Gaius... He could keep an eye on Jason down here.

"Okay," he drawled, and Jason gave him a sort of pained smile—A grimace, really. "We were pulling ancient texts out of the archives." He gave him a wry, teasing smile. "Those should wake you up. Annabeth finds them stimulating."

"They are. There's something here about a disease that eats your insides away."

"See? Blood and guts. Exciting."

Instead of responding with a sarcastic comment, Jason doubled over into a coughing fit. Jumping forward, Percy caught him before he could topple over, and would have come down with him if Reyna hadn't grabbed his other side to steady him. The way those coughs seemed to shake his entire body, coming from deep inside his chest... he was definitely ill.

"I'll get Medicus Gaius!" Annabeth said. She brushed past him, but Percy barely noticed as he was focused on Jason who was shaking his head.

"N-no, I'-I- fine—" he said between coughing fits. Something red on Reyna's toga caught his eye – she was directly in front of him, supporting him – and he could see the panic in her eyes – so he didn't considered bringing it to her attention. Not yet; she didn't scare easily but he was sure this might cause her to panic and he needed her to think straight.

He's coughing up blood. He's coughing up blood.

Yes. He was definitely fine.

Jason glared at him, like he knew exactly what Percy was thinking, like he wanted to saying something about it but he couldn't – and then his eyes widened fractionally. His knees knocked together and then his feet seemed to slip. Unfortunately, neither of them were expecting him to fall over like that, so they weren't prepared. Reyna hit the back of her head against a bookshelf as she crashed with him, and Percy nearly tripped over his suddenly prone form as he attempted to catch it.

"What's going on with him?" Reyna's voice was small, and her eyes were dilated– She has a concussion, dammit. Frank slid between her and Jason, hopefully blocking her view, and he pressed the back of his hand against his forehead. Almost immediately, he swore under his breath.

"He's burning up!" Frank tugged his hand into his lap and pressed his fingers lightly against the inside of his wrist; he must be looking for a pulse. "Jason? Can you hear me?"

Jason didn't respond to him. His lidded gaze was distant, eyes bright but unresponsive, and Frank grimaced. He looked up at Percy.

"Has he been complaining of anything? Aches? Stomach pains? Vomiting?"

He shook his head. "Nothing. But it's not in his nature to worry people either, so he might have been experienced those but kept his mouth shut. Especially now."

"Is there something I can do to help?" Reyna asked, her voice a little stronger. Frank hesitated and then he nodded.

"Go down to the well and get some water, please? It'll help to bring his fever down."

By the time she got down there and back, Gaius would hopefully be here. But he understood what Frank was doing—trying to keep her distracted so that she couldn't panic. She probably knew it too, despite that concussion. She nodded and slipped away.

"You know she has a concussion?" he asked, and Frank nodded.

"It's mild, I think. Besides, I could feel her despair. I didn't want her to focus on that." Feel her despair? That was an odd choice of word, though it was probably nothing.

"What about me?"

Frank smiled humorlessly. "I think we both know you're too used to feeling useless to panic about it." That was... a bit too close to home. Normally, he hid that from everyone. Percy scowled at him, and Frank shrugged. "You're a prince, sire. It comes with the territory."

He nodded. "How bad is he? I have no medical training."

Frank frowned slightly. "My wife, Hazel, would know more—her father was a physician and she used to follow him on his rounds. I just did what she does whenever someone is ill, but I have no idea how to interpret it."

So, they were useless. There was nothing they could do at the moment.

Gods, he hated feeling helpless.

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Author's Note: *grabs popcorn* *waits for the reaction*

(yes I have been waiting to post this - for 2 years)