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Collections/Challenges: Whumptober, Alt
Prompt(s): “I hear you’re alive, how disappointing.” | Unreality
Character(s): Jason, OMC, Caligula
Rating: Teen
Summary: Jason’s been kidnapped, tortured, beaten 50 shades of blue, burned, and starved, but for the last week his captor’s been nothing but nice to him.
Now usually that would worry him, but right now, he just wants to know what’s in the vial. Why does he feel so weird—so wrong?
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Jason was on edge.
Cameron was humming, facing Jason as he worked on something across the room. He’d been there for an hour at least, always humming, whistling—something.
Jason’s skin crawled in suspense, the rest of his body was an angry pulsing of pain and fear.
Cameron hadn’t hurt him in a while—not since the iris message to camp. Instead he’d been coming in with more food, unicorn draught, ambrosia squares. He’d sit there until Jason ate everything he brought, then he’d take the empty dishes and leave him alone until the next day. Everyday. For two weeks.
Jason had been expecting the same thing today, but instead of food, Cameron had what could only be described as an alchemy set. He’d set it up on the floor, facing Jason, and had been concocting something ever since.
Usually he didn’t look up, but sometimes he would, sometimes he’d stretch his neck and give Jason this grin. Something that screamed danger rather than safety.
He looked down. He could still feel the dried blood on his body, the grime and dirt coating his skin, his hair. He could still smell the sickening stench of rust, blood, and burnt flesh. Even if most of his wounds had healed, the scent of his torture had been ingrained into the walls. Jason wasn’t sure it would ever come out.
He’d gained weight too. Not a lot, but enough that he wasn’t skin and bone anymore. He’d also been given more freedom—if that’s what you could call it, anyway. Instead of his wrists being shackled to the wall, he had two shackles on his ankles with enough slack that he could comfortably walk around most the room (or workout.).
It worried him.
Before he had the opportunity to question Cameron’s sanity some more, a sharp, happy giggle pierced the air. Jason looked up and grimaced at the exuberant smile on his face.
That couldn’t be good.
“It’s done.” Cameron said with a giggle, holding up a small vial of liquid. It looked like rusty oil; red, brown, a dash of blue—probably poisonous.
Still, Jason found himself curious. He arched his eyebrow, staring at Cameron with thinly veiled suspicion. “What’s done?”
Cameron just grinned. He got up off the floor, stretching his hands above his head before he brought them, and the vial, back down to chest height. He gave the liquid a swirl and Jason’s eyebrow arched higher at the shimmering effect it had under the light.
“This right here is a special concoction.” Cameron said slowly, taking a step towards Jason. “It’ll help you heal faster.”
Jason pressed himself further into the wall from where he was sitting, looking between Cameron and the vial like he was crazy. “I’m not drinking that.”
He took another step closer. “Oh but you will.” He said softly, his voice sweet like honey. “Because if you don’t—well, you’ve already seen what I’m capable of, haven’t you?”
His shoulder conveniently started throbbing, reminding him just how bad it could be. Still, he tried to brush it off, looking away from Cameron as he thought about his options. One, he could take the potion willingly and hope he wasn’t poisoned. Or two, he could refuse, likely end up beaten half to death, again, and still end up taking the potion because Cameron force fed it to him.
He didn’t say anything. Instead, he lifted his head, locked eyes with the other demigod, and held up a shaking hand—palm turned towards the ceiling. Cameron let out a pleased hum, smiling as he pressed the glass into his palm.
He debated throwing it, but Cameron’s grip suddenly turned vice like, holding the vial and Jason’s hand still. “If you even think about breaking this,” he started slowly, looking at Jason with cold eyes, “I will make everything I did before look like child’s play.”
Jason paled, nodding slowly. Just like that Cameron had a smile back on his face, took away his hand and stepped back. “Go on,” he said, “drink it.”
Jason brought the potion towards his face, sniffing it. It didn’t smell bad, but it was a scent unlike anything he’d ever smelled before.
“You’re sure this’ll heal me?” Jason said slowly, looking at Cameron with narrowed eyes. The demigod only grinned.
That wasn’t helpful in the slightest, but oh well, if he died he died.
With that he brought the concoction up to his lips, downing it in one big gulp. The first thing he noticed was the taste; sweet, tangy and chalky—like smarties. It went down easily enough but Jason grimaced at the bitter aftertaste, scrunching his nose as he passed the empty vial back to Cameron.
Speaking of, the son of Mars looked downright ecstatic, practically vibrating with energy, a wide smile painted on his face that came off much creepier than it did reassuring.
Jason’s face dropped. “Why do you look like that?”
Cameron smiled wider. “Well, I don’t know if I mentioned this, but that potion was something I invented myself.“
Jason felt the hairs on his arm standing on edge, an uncomfortable weight settling throughout his body. “What did you give me?”
Cameron only shrugged. “Nothing I wouldn’t give myself.”
Jason shook his head, but it felt fuzzy. A slight, almost unnoticeable tingling had started to spread up his arms, down his legs, and around his torso. He was nauseous, like whatever he took was fighting back against his stomach. “What did you give me?”
Cameron’s eyes shone with something dangerous. “There’s some unicorn draught in it to start. But I added some Hawaiian baby woodrose seeds for flavour.”
Jason shook his head. His heart was pounding now, practically trying to beat out of his chest. “That can’t be everything.”
“Well, I added a dash of monkshood, breadseed poppies, and a bit of moonflower if you really want to get specific.” He said simply, watching Jason with a great deal of interest—but Jason was hardly paying attention anymore.
Everything was wrong.
The shadows on the wall were stretching, the light from the torches flickering, growing brighter. He tried to breathe but it felt humid, thick, the air itself seemed to stick to his throat.
What the fuck was going on?
He turned his head up to face Cameron but everything tilted—the room spun and the ground under him felt like it was rippling. He blinked, tried to say something, but his tongue felt heavy, his mouth drier than a desert.
His heartbeat stalled, skipping beats and adding them back erratically, like a toddler directing an orchestra. He took another deep breath and almost choked.
He blinked again and the room was shifting, subtly, like it was trying to reach out and grab him. The shadows looked like hands and the fire contained smiling faces.
“What—“ Jason started, forcing his tongue to work. “did you give me.”
Jason could barely make out Cameron’s smile, properly distorted now, the shadows stretching on his face until he didn’t even look human anymore. “You should be familiar with it, after all, you had about a dozen warriors hospitalized with this exact blend.”
There were pieces trying to fit themselves together but Jason couldn’t think, could barely remember what was going on. His vision doubled and his limbs felt heavy, every turn of his head felt impossible, like he was moving a hundred pound dumbbell.
That’s when they started, the voices. Unintelligible at first, distant—Jason almost didn’t hear it. But they were there, coming from all angles; the torches, the walls, the floor, behind him, above him. Everywhere.
He pressed himself into the wall, gasping, but the air curled around his lungs like water, suffocating, heavy, thick.
“This isn’t real.” He muttered, closing his eyes. He didn’t have the energy to drag his hands up to his ears. “This isn’t real.”
“But it is.” Cameron’s said, his voice cutting through the air like a hot knife. It sounded distorted, almost inhuman. Distant.
Jason opened his eyes and his heart skipped at least two beats.
Where Cameron should’ve been standing stood Caligula, exactly like he remembered him. Sharp brown eyes that screamed danger, a twisted smile, that stupid captains hat and blue blazer.
His blood went cold—or maybe that was his blood pressure dropping, who knows—and his breath caught in his throat.
No, he thought, horrified, there’s no way. It couldn’t be… could it?
“Caligula?” He whispered, paling. The word seemed to melt in his mouth, the syllables shifting and dissolving on his tongue. “How..? You’re dead.”
He didn’t understand. Couldn’t understand. His body was tensed and terrified, on edge and alert. Even if it didn’t make sense, his body recognized it’s killer and he was not okay.
“Am I?” Caligula said, smirking. Jason shook his head, closed his eyes, covered his ears with his hands whether they wanted to move or not. This couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t be happening.
“Not real.” He whispered desperately, ignoring the way his heartbeat pulsed in his eyes, the way every part of his body felt like molten lead coated in molasses. “Not real not real not real not real—“
There was a hand on his shoulder and Jason flinched, his stomach lurching with pure terror.
“I heard you were alive..” Caligula said, right next to Jason’s ear. His voice bounced around his skull like a distorted record. Every sound was purposeful, coated with venom and caressed with poison. “How disappointing.”
Jason whimpered, pressing himself further back into the wall. “Not real. You’re not real. You’re—”
Before he could say anymore he was yanked forward, forced to his knees. His stomach rolled, his head thrummed, and he was choking.
“Look at me, Jason.”
He opened his eyes but he could barely focus, his heart was beating so fast Jason thought he might actually have a heart attack. In front of him, so close Jason could feel every breath on his face, was his killer.
“This can’t be happening.” Jason said shortly, or was he saying anything at all? He couldn’t tell, everything felt delayed and too fast at the same time. Nothing made sense, everything was wrong, shifted, his own voice felt foreign on his tongue. “You were killed—“
“As were you.” Caligula smirked, too big, too wide, lips stretched thin and wrong. “Did you really think I’d be gone for good?” He tutted then, clicking his tongue in a way that did nothing but amplify Jason’s distress.
The torches were staring, mocking. The shadows were reaching for him and every sound out of Caligula’s mouth harmonized with them in the worst possible way. Jason gasped, then gasped again. He couldn’t breathe. It didn’t feel like he was inhaling oxygen anymore—just his fear, thick in the air like smoke.
He shook his head and cried out at the throbbing pain sparking behind his eyes, travelling down his neck to the very tips of his toes. His stomach churned violently and for a second, Jason genuinely thought he might throw up.
“This isn’t real.” He snapped desperately, trying to crawl back. Caligula’s hand stayed firm on his shoulder, fingers digging into his flesh. Too real, unreal, no, no no no, not real—
“You keep telling yourself that.” Caligula again, his voice smooth and cold like marble. It seemed to travel down his spine, chilling, invading his very bones. “But your body remembers, even if your mind pretends.”
His throat felt like it was closing, suffocating. He let out a noise caught between a whine and a sob, looking at Caligula with nothing but fear in his eyes. He was terrified, cold, hot, his limbs felt like sand and every blink brought upon new horrors. The longer he looked the more his face shifted, Caligula, Octavian, Cameron, old enemies long since dead.
He didn’t know what was happening, could barely think. The only thing he knew was that he was terrified and nothing was right.
“Stop.” He choked out, his eyes darting across every feature as they changed right in front of him, a slow shift that made him doubt his own sanity. “Stop, please.”
The man in front of him—if he could even be called a man anymore—laughed. A cruel sound that felt like spikes in his ears. “You took my life, Jason Grace. My honour. My dignity. It’s time to return the favour.”
Jason felt himself spiralling, his body collapsing in on itself as Caligula stepped back and let go. The ground couldn’t decide whether or not it wanted to be a boat or quicksand, instead settling on a nauseating combination that left Jason unsteady and reeling.
Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew it was the concoction, but just as quickly as that thought appeared it was shooed away, gone. His head was light, like he was going to pass out.
No, he was definitely going to pass out.
He looked up at the figure, a distorted mess of Caligula’s features on Cameron’s body, and his blood turned to ice.
His eyes, brown—or were they black?—stared at him. Calculating. Proud. Euphoric. Triumphant. Jason felt his own eyes roll to the back of his head.
The last thing he registered before his head hit the ground was Cameron’s voice, soft, sweeping him into a gentle embrace.
“Fear suits you, Grace.”
Then, nothing.