Athena was like a cornered mountain lion, proud and willing to rip your throat out the minute your concentration slipped. Jax had noticed the old scars webbing her neck, and the fresh lacerations on her wrists. But despite the obvious wounds, she'd looked at him as regally as a queen – her deep green eyes fathomless. Jax cursed himself for his own stupidity; he'd gone to her like a child expecting a history lesson – and she'd thrown his own idiocy right back in his face.
Before Athena's arrival, the war had seemed like such a separate entity. Of course he'd known it was going on – but he'd been so detached from the actual battles, it was as if all of the information was coming through a bad filter. Now, the war was all Jax could think about. His deeply-rooted sense of empathy was keeping him awake at night – tossing and turning as he thought of Athena's initial fear when he'd entered the room. She was smaller than his younger sister, and probably as weak, yet she'd tensed as if ready to take him on. How could she live a life where such small things were viewed with a fight or flight response? What horrors had she seen; or participated in?
There was no way Athena could be the downfall of everything they knew. She was too real – and in a world Jax was slowly beginning to realize he knew nothing about, Athena was just a scared girl. Her eyes were the deepest green had had ever seen, and the raw fear in her eyes would haunt him for years. With eyes like that, there was no doubt. Athena was the messiah – but did that inherently mean she was evil?
"Jax! Come play with me!"
The words carried to him on a faint breeze, bringing a smile to Jax's face and shoving his dark thoughts to the back of his mind. Sierra raced down the hallway, her hands held out like wings. She was blowing air out of her mouth, trying to mimic the sounds of an airplane as she ran toward him. Jax bent over, scooping Sierra up and tossing her into the air. He laughed as she screamed, catching her and cradling her against his chest.
"Again, again!" she giggled.
Sierra clutched Jax's shirt, swinging her legs wildly. One of the kicks went wrong and landed just below his rib cage and he winced. Jostling Sierra until she was wrapped under one arm and facing downward, Jax growled. "Jeez Sierra, you always kick me there."
"I didn't mean to!" she pouted.
"You always say that."
"But I didn't! I swear!"
"There you are, your majesty!" came an unfamiliar voice behind Jax.
A maid bustled around the corner, her hands on her round hips. Her expression was stern, but Jax could see amusement lurking in her eyes as she spotted Sierra. It was hard to dislike his little sister; she was just too sweet. But the maid froze when she spotted Jax, her expression blanking. Jax shot the maid a wink; chuckling when she blushed.
"Sierra, please tell me you didn't run away from your studies again." Jax sighed. "Do you want dad to be mad?"
Jax swung Sierra forward, catching her legs so he was holding her princess style. She avoided looking him in the eye, a sure sign she had indeed run away from her maids. Jax sighed, then placed her on the ground, one hand resting on her shoulder.
"I don't like my studies! They're so booooring." Sierra whined, pouting up at him.
"I know they're boring." Jax smiled, squatting so they were at eye level, "Since they're so boring, how do you feel about going to the field with me?"
A radiant smile lit up Sierra's face, and she squealed as she threw herself at Jax, her thin arms wrapping around his neck. Laughing, Jax stood, lifting her off the ground. So what if they skipped their studies for the day – Jax needed a moment of peace to combat his heavy heart.
"Jackson, put your sister down."
A chill shot up Jax's spine, but he forced himself not to shiver. It seemed there would be no afternoon in the sunshine. Slowly, he lowered Sierra onto the ground, a spark of anger tearing through him when he saw the tears gathering immediately in her eyes. They both knew that tone. Jax pushed her gently toward her maid, relieved when she went, standing behind the now pale woman and clutching her skirt. Turning slowly, Jax stuffed his hands into his pockets, appearing as nonchalant as possible.
"Do you have anything to say for yourself? Any excuse for encouraging your sister to become a delinquent?" His father's voice was the epitome of calm, but Jax could see the fury lurking in the depths of the king's eyes.
Jax remembered when he used to like his father; before the queen had passed, he'd been a generally calm man who'd been a decent, if not absent, father. But once his wife had passed – the king had slowly changed. Jax honestly didn't know if it was actual change, or if his mother had merely shielded him from his father's controlling ways. Though actual beatings came few and far between, Jax could see he'd pushed his father too far this time. He wasn't surprised that Jax would try to disobey him—that happened all the time—but it was new for Jax to involve Sierra. The king's obsessive interest in his daughter sometimes worried Jax, but he knew his father just wanted to raise Sierra to be the spitting image of the queen.
Instead of responding to his father's bait, Jax shook his head, hoping the king would send Sierra away before punishing Jax.
"Maid – Margaret is it? Please take Sierra back to her studies, and make sure she doesn't escape again." The King's words were measured, his thinly veiled threat causing the maid to shiver.
"Yes, your majesty. It won't happen again." She took Sierra's hand, pulling her back toward the hallway they had come from, "Come, miss."
Jax watched as a pouting Sierra was pulled away. He waved to her at the last minute, but didn't think she saw it. Now Jax was in the last place he ever wanted to be: alone with his father. Slowly, he turned, keeping his expression bored. Jax had learned long ago that it was always better to be disinterested – any display in emotion would only serve to further infuriate Jasper.
"Come to my office, Jax. We need to talk."
The King turned without any further direction, his long strides carrying him quickly though the hallway. Jax was only an inch shorter than his father, but his legs were not as long, so instead of trying to catch up, he followed at a much more leisurely pace. He would take any small victories he could; and keeping the king waiting was one of them. By the time Jax reached the office, his father had rounded the large oak desk and seated himself, his hands linked atop his crossed knees.
"Sit."
Fighting against the instinctive eye roll that always came when his father ordered him around, Jax dropped into the plush, leather chair seated on the opposite side of the desk. He sprawled in the fine seat, his army issue boots soiling the colorful rug. Jax knew his nonchalance would bother his dad, and delighted in being able to bother him in any way.
Hands stacked behind his head, Jax watched his father watch him. Neither moved as they waited for the other to become uncomfortable and turn away. Jax was the one who finally turned away, his agitation showing as he ran a hand through sun-streaked locks – and he hated his father for this manipulative game they played.
"I've recently discovered you went to visit the most recent addition to our cell block. Against my express orders." The King started, one dark eyebrow arched.
Jax shifted forward, his elbows braced against his knees. Damn – this was going to cost him. Jax took his time answering, his jaw shifting as if he was looking for the right words. He deliberately took longer than needed, one shoulder rising in a shrug of disinterest.
"Now, that's not entirely correct. I did go see the girl, but you never forbade me from visiting her." Jax raised a hand, offering his reasoning before he could be interrupted, "See, I was there when you so nicely told everyone not to go near her without your permission. You said, and I quote, 'No army personnel, or medical facilitator will be allowed near the subject.'"
Jax leaned back, his expression grim. His father was a very literal man, and Jax knew he had won this argument – though that didn't stop the fear from uncoiling in his stomach and tightening around his heart. Unable to stop himself, Jax drove home the point by adding, "I am obviously neither."
The King took a deep breath, the telltale vein in his neck pulsing. For a long moment, he said nothing, just stared at his son - his heir. Jax eventually became uncomfortable with the attention, but refused to break. There was nothing he hated more than feeling weak in front of his father. Slowly, the King stood. Heart thudding against his chest, Jax watched as the king snatched up the thick wooden ruler on his desk. Usually, there would be consequences, but this anger spoke of a new level retribution for this specific act of disobedience. Jax watched as his father deliberately rounded the desk, his expression growing calmer as he walked. When he finally reached Jax, he paused. Then in a movement so sudden Jax had no clue it was coming, his father swung out and cracked the ruler against his face.
The ringing in his ears couldn't seem to stop, and he could taste blood in his mouth. Jax stared in shock, his hand reaching up to cradle his red flesh, but before he could speak – the king brought down the ruler again. Swallowing a yelp, Jax leapt from the chair and tried to get away from his father – but the king was quicker. Jax felt fingers tangle in his hair just before he was dragged to the floor. Several blindingly painful cracks later, and Jax was curled up in a dazed heap on the floor, blood pooling beneath him. He could feel his skin swelling where the flat edge had met his unprotected flesh – and where the metallic edge had sliced his skin.
"You are never to go see that girl again. Under any circumstance, do you understand me?" His father snarled, one hand jerking Jax up by his hair. "I am your king, and so help me goddess – you will obey me."
Jax spat blood on his father's shoes in response, wincing when the king wiped it off in Jax's hair by delivering a swift kick. Multi-colored spots danced in his vision, and Jax couldn't breathe. Slowly, silence invaded the room, and Jax slowly raised himself into a sitting position. Through swollen eyes, he saw the king seated behind his desk – completely unruffled and at ease as he looked through paperwork. Gently, Jax rose to his feet, and with a growl he forced himself to walk out of the king's office – his head held high.
The assault had been a tipping point – and as Jax limped to his room, he vowed that he would find out just how much of Athena's words were true.