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Chapter Text

The floor beneath Reyna’s feet lurched and she fought to balance herself for the hundredth time since boarding the Argo II. She still wasn’t accustomed to the sudden motion of the massive ship when airborne and couldn’t help but be slightly amazed at how Jason seemed able to anticipate every rock and movement of turbulence, as he did now, not hesitating in the slightest as he continued relaying the looming mission’s details.

“...you will have to ensure a consistent pace is maintained; around one jump every 24 hours to reach Camp Half-Blood in time. You’ll be at your most vulnerable when coming out of each jump— especially until you get accustomed to shadow travel. Knowing Nico, he’ll do whatever he can to make it as easy as possible for you, but that’ll take more effort than just making the jumps. You won't be able to count on him for help with defensive maneuvers should you land in a hostile environment.” 

Despite the lack of inflection from the jolting of her sleeping quarters around them, Reyna detected agitation in his voice. He continued rattling off information until finally fading out mid sentence to release a tense breath of air. Reyna set down the case of ration packets she’d been about to place in her ever expanding backpack, turning to face Jason at the silence that had befallen him.

The former Praetor looked strange wearing jeans, an old shirt with some band logo Reyna was unfamiliar with— most likely a gift from Piper— and muddy Converse. Not strange because he looked out of place, but because he didn’t.

Reyna couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride in her oldest friend. He’d found a home in this strange ship handcrafted by that son of Hephaestus, and a family in the wildly diverse group of Greek and Roman demigods. This was his life now, where he belonged, here on this ship traveling the world with Piper and the others. Not in New Rome. Never had she seen him so at ease with himself despite the crushing weight of their current situation and impending war. It was she who was out of place, who didn’t belong. She was the stranger in this odd sanctuary that they’d each fought to build through blood and sweat and love. 

And the yelling of Leo from above deck, roaring of Festus, muffled conversations of Hazel and Frank, laughing of Percy and Annabeth… they were all strange to her. But she was here, packing a bag to journey across the globe. Not just because of the good it would do for the sake of all demigods and the future of the world, but because she had no home, no family of her own. And with… with Scipio... gone… she had nothing more to lose. 

Jason seemed to have picked up on this, and she saw him warring with himself to convince her otherwise. His shoulders were hunched, posture unrefined in a way Reyna recognized instantly despite its rarity on her fellow Roman. Jason was afraid. Afraid for Reyna, and she knew he was weighing his odds for the fight that would surely break out should he beg her to stay.

She lifted a brow as his lips parted, daring him to oppose the decision she’d made only yesterday.

Jason leaned forward in his seat, the wood creaking beneath him. “You’re an amazing warrior, Reyna, an even better leader. But come on…,” the strain in his voice was more piercing than an arrowhead, but she kept her features carefully blank and shoulders squared. “This is beyond dangerous. Even for you. And I know you’re smart enough to have already realized that. There's just... there's no pleasent outcome to what you're agreeing to do.”

Rising from her chair, Reyna placed her feet squarely beneath her frame, stance that of a commanding officer— of a Praetor who’d led the entire Twelfth Legion more than once.

“Nico Di Angelo will need a demigod with such qualities to protect him.” Then added with a tilt of her head, the single braid she wore sliding over her shoulder, “Are you suggesting he transport the Parthenos across the world alone?”

Jason’s spine straightened, hands raised in defense. It was a low blow, she knew. Jason had grown close with Nico ever since their mysterious mission on Split, Croatia and she knew he worried deeply for Nico. She also knew there was no other way. Nico could not do this alone or else the odds— which she indeed calculated already— would be zero. Either they would succeed or they wouldn’t. But they had to try. And despite her severe lack of prior interactions with the son of Hades, she sensed he was prepared to see this through till the very end. And so was she.

“You know that’s not what I mean,” Jason said, clearly hurt. 

“Then what, Jason? What are you trying to say?”

Exasperated, he threw a hand into the air before rubbing it across his face. “I don’t know, okay! I don’t... gods, I don't know…”

Reyna almost took a step towards him, towards that rare display of vulnerability that she knew he didn’t show to just anyone.

He rose from the chair and began to pace in the small room, in an attempt to calm the anxiety coursing through his veins— that survival instinct burned into his DNA that told him this mission wouldn’t go well. When his muscles stopped twitching, he cleared his throat, voice barely a whisper. “I just… I don’t want either of you to get hurt.”

Reyna opened her mouth to restate the strategic benefits for the war, that this was a necessary evil they had to endure for the sake of both camps. But the words of reason died in her throat as a noise erupted from beyond the closed door, shouts that echoed from down the hall.

Rushing to the door, she opened it a crack just as Percy, Annabeth, and Piper did the same from their own rooms. Reyna felt Jason come up behind her to peak over her shoulder in time to see a door down the hall burst open before a figure shrouded in writhing shadows slammed it behind him, taking the stairs two at a time, storming up to the deck. A chill shot down her spine from a rush of cold air that pulsed throughout the hall in his wake.

Reyna and the others retreated back into their respective rooms after a shared look of concern. She knew Jason wasn’t finished having this conversation and she tried to rearrange her thoughts again in the analytically sensical way she had before when a knock sounded at the door causing them both to startle.

“Come in,” Reyna barked after swallowing past the lump in her throat. She hadn’t expected to be confronted by a table, but Jason beamed at it from beside her.

“Hey Buford, good to see you. We’re kinda in the middle of someth-”

“Iris message for Reyna,” the table said as it pushed past Jason, nearly knocking him over as it scurried to the center of her room.

She saw the golden hair first. Morning light that streamed in through the open window behind him illuminated the locks as if a halo. She couldn’t quite tell due to the nature of an iris message, but it seemed there were tears streaking the healer’s face.

“Hey, Will,” Jason greeted, quickly getting rid of any traces of the worry and concern there a moment ago, replacing it with a warm smile. But the child of light didn’t return the gesture with his usual megawatt smile. Will’s mouth barely twitched upward in greeting, and even then it didn’t reach his eyes. Without their usual spark of energy, the honey glow irises that secretly calmed Reyna were now flat brown, and around both eyes were rosy. The sight was more than unsettling.

Jason and Reyna stayed quiet as Will stepped closer to the spray of water, but the Roman’s watched every movement. They both caught how Will’s eyes washed over the room, quickly flicking to their faces after catching sight of the backpack sprawled out on the bed behind Reyna. 

“I need to speak with Reyna,” he said bluntly before looking to Jason, mouth open to apologize for the directness. Jason only smiled with understanding and dipped his head in a friendly nod before grasping the door handle. Just before slipping through, he threw a pointed look to Reyna that told her their conversation was far from over.

Once the door was closed and Jason was gone, Will sunk into a chair by the window that she figured was in his bedroom at Camp Half-Blood. Reyna lowered herself onto the mattress behind her. Though her ability wasn't that of controlling elements or charmspeak, what she did possess told her to let Will gather his thoughts and speak when he was ready. He did so with his head in both hands, voice muffled by sun kissed palms. 

“Nico… he won’t change his mind. I’ve tried everything to convince him that this- that it’s a suicide mission but…,” he looked up at her, the healer who was always composed for the sake of his patients, friends, and sanity. Those were definitely tears in his eyes. “... but he says he’s the only one who can do it. And I know he’s right, but Reyna—” the desperation in his eyes shone bright, “— he’s scared. He won’t admit it but I see, I-I can see that he’s… he’s terrified. Have you ever seen Nico afraid of anything? And the worst part i-is knowing he’s not scared for his own safety, for the possibility of… of getting hurt or..." a sob breaks off the thought. "All he's thinking of is the possibility of failure, all he's afraid of is letting everyone down if he were to- to do something as inconvenient as dying."

"I won't let that happen," she swore. "I'll keep him safe. That's my role in this war."

The bluntness and levity to her words had the intended effect. After a few sniffles, Will's breathes evened out and the tears ceased to flow. He nodded, wiping at his face roughly. 

“If you're really gonna do this... I figured I could give you some insight."

His face grew serious as he hesitated. Reyna sat back into her chair with a nod to continue. 

“When we first started dating, it took him weeks to finally let me spend the night because of the night terrors.”

Will swallowed, remembering the nights of screams that twisted his heart, the desperate pleas and groans of pain through teeth clenched dangerously tight, the sounds of near hyperventilation and hours it would take to bring Nico out of the hellscape his mind trapped him into.

“I’m fine,” Nico had ground out, jaw tight, muscles tense beyond possibility as he became aware of Will’s presence. This was only the third night he’d let Will sleep in his bed. Nico had been strong enough to keep the terrors at bay the second night after secretly taking a sedative because on the first night, he’d done the same thing— awoken, throat raw, screaming with Will wide eyed beside him.

“You say that a lot for someone who wakes up screaming.”

“That was one time,” Nico huffed with a pained smile trying to play it off.

Will had narrowed his eyes at Nico, not in anger but to analyze him. He ran a hand over his face in thought before muttering against his palm. “You took a sedative last night didn’t you?"

Nico tried to hide away, but Will was having none of that. 

"This happens every night doesn’t it?”

“Lots of people have nightmares,” Nico shrugged only to wince, likely from having hit the wall during the usual thrashing. “Especially demigods.”

Will could almost see Nico raise those damn walls that Will had spent months tirelessly getting him to lower, so he quickly took Nico’s frigid hands into his own, shaking them lightly to get Nico’s eyes to meet his own.

“Not like that they don’t.”

Will knew Nico would be embarrassed beyond belief, angry even, if he knew Will was telling Reyna all this. It was selfish, he was aware, but Will knew he wouldn’t be able to function knowing Nico was countless miles away, risking his life, with a companion who had no idea what was going on or how to help. So he told her. He told her everything.

How it’s best to not touch Nico during a night terror, to stay a safe distance away— no matter how much she’ll ache to comfort him and stop the screams— and speak calmly to him even when he can't hear.

How it’s okay if Nico can’t remember his own name or where he is while coming out of it, and that it’s normal to feel like the world is ending and like her soul might shatter from watching him suffer.

“It’s gotten better," Will assures, wringing his hands in his lap. "This past month, he’s only woken up a few times, and even then he just jolts upright and we talk until he calms down enough to go back to sleep. But that’s because I’m always there. And now… I brought it up to him, asking how he’s going to do all this without me there and he said that he’s spent most of his life alone, but… all those times are the reasons for the night terrors in the first place. And I have this awful feeling that they’re going to come back without me there. Especially with him shadowing traveling so much. That’s another thing…”

Will got up and began to pace, the iris message glimmering as it tracked each sporadic movement. He was rambling to help with the evident rising anxiety, Reyna could tell, but she continued to listen intently.

“...he’s never used his powers this much before, no one knows his limitations or the risk of such a massive task. Even children of the Big Three have limits... I think... I mean, they must, right? But no one knows what that limit is. And I just… I hate you're both being asked to do this." 

Will looked down at his hands, sinking back into the sun draped chair. He seemed to be struggling to get something out, and Reyna remained carefully composed despite the edge of anxiety grazing her spine. His mouth opened and closed three times before bracing both arms on his thighs, raising his gaze to look at her.

“Leo sent me an iris message a while back after one of the Seven got injured, I can’t remember who, but I talked him through putting together a pretty extensive medkit. He spent weeks finding, buying, and making all the supplies.” Will averted his gaze, dropping his head as he gripped the bridge of his nose. “Find it. There should be a small orange bag made of waterproof nylon. Take it with you.”

“What’s inside?” Reyna asked with confusion.

Will’s jaw clenched as he ground out, “Four syringes… and enough sedative to keep him asleep for three hours. Inducing sleep can be traumatic though, because if he can’t wake up, he can’t escape the nightmares. So only use them if you think he’s going to hurt himself.”

Will saw her startled features ripple through the iris message’s mist and took a deep breath to elaborate. 

Again, he explained everything to her, this Roman that for some reason he trusted so much. Described in detail that once Nico had an episode, a horrible night terror that no amount of calming words on Will’s behalf could break him free. Nico had stumbled off the bed and staggered around the room wildly until he’d tripped and flew a hand out against the nearest wall to catch himself. But he’d instead thrust his palm into the only mirror in his room. The glass had shattered, jagged pieces that reflected the moonlight streaming in through the windows above the bed. 

Will’s voice wavered as he recalled Nico grabbing one in his left hand, not sure what it was in his dazed mind as he began to wake up. But the terror had sunk its claws in again, most likely triggered by a memory associated with reflections or glass, and Nico’s eyes had clamped shut… along with his hand. Trapping the shard just as he was.

Will looked to the floor as the memory threatened to drown him. It had taken days for him to recover from what came next. To be able to look at Nico without concern in his eyes.

Because it had been complete chaos that night when Will had learned the meaning of fear. Mind numbing amounts of terror at the sight of Nico unknowingly driving that shard down, cutting through layers of tissue, forced deeper and deeper by his white knuckled grip. Nico had been mumbling and whispering in a way that sounded almost like a plea but he didn’t seem to register the pain, no of course not, he’d always had an impossibly high threshold for such things. An ability that had saved him countless times, but almost ended his life that night. 

Will had learned true fear because if what would’ve been unimaginable amounts of pain to anyone else did nothing to pull Nico from his nightmares, if the agonizing sensation was no match for what he felt inside his own mind, then what was Will supposed to do? How could he be any match?

Blood had begun to trickle down Will’s throat as his screams, louder than he ever had, grew hoarse. As he tried to be louder than the horrors Nico was trapped in. 

“Nico, stop! You’re okay, I’m here just open your hand! Nico!”

He’d tried with all his strength to pry the glass from Nico’s iron grip. With no luck, he dove for his bag that thankfully had a syringe from his last shift. Without a millisecond of thought, he sunk the needle in and Nico collapsed with a cry that echoed through the now silent room.

Will had then seized Nico’s hand, feeling his head go light and stomach twist. Sure he was a healer— the best in all of Camp— but even he had to take half a breath to compose himself. The damage… vital nerves and tendons were severed, bone was crushed… the hand was- it was unsalvageable. In the moment, he’d tried to deny his conscious that screamed to him ‘amputation’ but he knew it spoke the truth.

His breath had hitched, a cry escaping his lips, as he pictured Nico waking up from the brutal operation to see his dominant hand gone; another casualty of his trauma filled life. 

Will had rushed to his bag, removing a roll of bandages and makings of a tourniquet to cut off the blood flow, simultaneously planning out the quickest path to the infirmary, the urgency he’d yell out to his siblings, and exactly what he would need to gather once in the medbay to conduct immediate surgery to prevent Nico from bleeding out. He’d begun tearing pieces of bandage into strips but dropped the roll with a yelp. Because his hands were glowing. He jumped to his feet only to see that his entire body was alight. 

He took both hands, power thrumming between each palm, and clasped them around Nico’s. He could feel warm blood and lacerated skin and then… nothing. He pulled his hands away to reveal a perfectly undamaged hand, void of even the oldest scars and thickest callouses. Will had fallen back on his heels, head tilted to the ceiling and whispered, utterly exhausted as adrenaline and the blessing left him. “Thank you, father. Thank you. ”

The last of the glow had disappeared just as Nico’s eyelids fluttered open.

Much like the glow that night, the memory vanished slowly and Will was back to the present. Sitting before Reyna. He wiped at his eyes, cheeks going flush until he looked through the mist to see that there were tears welling up in the Praetor’s eyes. 

“I may not have Apollo’s blessing,” her voice was strong as she rose from the chair with an air of confidence and respect, “but I hope that I am worthy enough to accompany Nico on this journey.”

Will sat back in his chair to let the sun's rays warm his shoulders and dispel the frigid cold in his core from retelling the story. He could hear campers running around, talking about everything and nothing, laughing from where they splashed each other in the lake or in groups eating their favorite foods; hear the clopping of Chiron’s hooves as he and Dionysus discussed something in hushed tones; the clanging of swords from the sparing field and whooshing of arrows slicing through the air to find their targets. And he took in the Roman demigod who held the fate of every sound and laugh that drifted through the window in her calloused palms. As well as the survival of a piece of his own soul.

“For the sake of us all, Reyna… I hope so too.”

Nico shifted on the ship’s mast, gripping more tightly as the slick surface threatened to dispel him. Squinting in the thick mist, Nico breathed in the cold air of the clouds as they bit at his tear strewn face.

Despite everything, amusement fluttered in his chest. When he was younger, he’d been terrified of heights. The smallest ledge or shortest balcony would overwhelm him with vertigo. He looked down, past his long legs that swung gently from the wind, and figured he was probably a good 40 feet above the deck. And yet not the slightest spark of fear entered his mind. Because after all he’d done, seen, and endured… nothing could scare him anymore. 

Well… almost anything.

His thoughts were interrupted by movement down the wooden beam he was perched on, the jostling enough to announce a presence. Nico quickly wiped at his face, pulling a scarred wrist roughly over his cheeks that would now appear flushed from cold alone. Despite the questionably stable mast jostling beneath him, Nico did nothing to hold on. If the Fates wanted him to go like this, then so be it. He almost wished for it each time he retreated up the beam, but he knew better. Whatever end the Fates had in store for him wouldn’t be so banal.

There was a muttered curse beside him at the slick footing and cold seat, but Nico knew who it was that joined him even before that. He’d recognize that scent anywhere. He kept his gaze ahead despite feeling those piercing eyes on him.

“Hope you didn’t come all this way just to talk me out of it. You’re tempting Zeus right now, these are his clouds ya know?” 

Percy wished he could appreciate the ease with which Nico spoke to him, how hard it had been to finally earn the demigod’s trust and friendship, but Percy had to ruin the mood, there was something he needed to get off his chest and Nico was the only person in the world that would even come close to understanding it. So he gave Nico a smirk of approval and pretended to punch the sky Rocky style, which got a laugh, before settling beside Nico and letting his shoulders haunch.

The wind howled between them, the chill growing so strong it burned Nico’s throat as he breathed it in. His muscles shook despite the lack of goosebumps, raven hair tousled in the waves of air as they sat in silence having sensed Percy was gathering the nerves to say something that was bothering him, and he got the feeling it wasn’t about the looming mission. Percy cleared his throat but didn’t speak for a few moments, and when he finally did, Nico barely recognized the voice. Deep and gravely, no trace of that signature humor to be found.

“How’d you do it, man? ‘Cause without Annabeth I wouldn’t be here right now,” the crisp air he breathed in stung his throat and despite the vagueness with which he spoke, Percy knew Nico knew exactly what he was talking about, “and I-I just can’t… I can’t even imagine what it- what that would've been like alone.” Knuckles growing white as his fingers fought to stay on the slick mast, Percy looked to his side, at the son of Hades who was doing nothing to stay on. “How the hell did you survive?” 

Without breaking his steady narrowed gaze into the fog choked distance, Nico breathed deeply, hoping to numb his senses. 

“You don’t wanna know.”

Percy knew that face, recognized the ghosts in his eyes, the unspeakable horrors in his furrowed brow and pursed lips, knew the tense features and clenched jaw. Because he’d seen it in the mirror everyday since he and Annabeth had escaped.

“Besides, look at me...” Nico huffed bitterly, “...I didn’t.”

Sure he’d put on weight and muscle, sure he’d worked out obsessively and filled out his lanky frame, but he was by no stretch of the imagination healthy. Part of me is still down there, he wanted to say. But he knew Percy could hear the unspoken words. 

And because of their history together, because Percy had become that of a brother to him and was the only person other than Will and Hazel that he trusted with his entire being, Nico dropped his gaze to the mess of scar tissue on his palms.

“I sleep like eight hours a week, if I’m lucky. Without Will it’d be even less. I have to force myself to eat because an appetite is a foreign concept to my body by now. I can see better in the dark than the light. My throat is permanently scarred from drinking the Styx for so long. And I— I come up here not to hide from you all, but to hide from myself.”

The words burned on his tongue almost as much as the Styx but he was surprised to find he wasn’t regretful at the admission, just relieved to see Percy not look at him with pity. And Percy was shocked, by the words yes, but also by the feat he’d just witnessed. Nico had just opened up to him. He trusted him. 

Not sure how to respond, they were silenced by the sounds of Tartarus that plagued both their minds. Eventually, Percy cleared his throat.

“I did something horrible, Nico. Something a hero shouldn’t be capable of.” He ran a hand through his hair, feeling the mist gathered there wet his palm. “There was this goddess, Akhyls—” Nico flinched hard enough for the mast to tremble. Percy let out a curse as he fought to stay on the mast and turned his head to see Nico breathing heavily, eyes closed shut. When he’d regained composure, Percy raised a brow, “You met her?”

Nico took a shaky breath, voice hollow, “What’d she say to you?”

So Percy told him. About the poison and the shrieks and, despite not having even told Annabeth, Percy told Nico about how he’d felt while doing it all. How he’d smiled, how something deep within him had laughed, how he’d wanted more. It was hard to vocalize what he’d done to the goddess, and he stopped a few times to quell the lump in his throat and steady his racing heart as his hands began to tremor. Because, even now, he wanted to do it again. Wanted to wield that with which was forbidden by all moral standards that made him part mortal.

Nico listened patiently, but wasn’t shocked by what Percy spoke of. Not when Nico’s night terrors would sometimes flicker for long enough for visions to appear. Nico had visions just like any demigod, except his were stronger, clearer because visions were always shrouded in darkness, and Nico could lift that shroud, could bend darkness. 

And one night he’d caught a glimpse of Percy in a way that made what he now spoke of seem like child's play. But Nico did not share this, knew that revealing a future would only bring pain to the present, and Percy had enough pain right now to last a lifetime. Nico would rather die than be the cause of more.

When Percy had finished, he glanced at Nico and asked what the goddess had said to him. Nico looked down at his marred palms before twisting his silver skull ring, then the band of gold beside it— a gift from Will— and whispered, “She said I was perfect.”

What more could I do to you? 

Her voice was still just as clear in his mind as it had been in Tartarus.

So much pain and suffering!

Nico looked like he might say more, but instead swallowed roughly, gazing out into the clouds. “The things I did to survive… trust me, Jackson, you don’t want to know.”

They sat beside one another in silence. Never needing anything more than each other’s presence to calm the raging storms inside.

After what felt like years and seconds all at once, Percy tilted his head to the side. “I’m worried about you, man. We all are.” He took a deep breath that almost looked painful, “And I know this is the only way we have a shot at winning this thing, but Nico…,” the son of Hades met his gaze, “...you’re my brother— anyone who tries to challenge that can catch these hands— and if anything were to happen to you, I-I don’t know what I’d…”

The words filled Nico's numb heart with embers of warmth that allowed him to move, to reach beside him and place a hand on Percy’s shoulder. “I don’t blame you for Bianca, Percy. Or for anything else. You saved me that night, just as you’ve done everyday since. So thank you.” The corner of his mouth twitched as he said with confidence, “And you are a hero, if you ever question that again you’re gonna have to ‘catch these hands’.”

Percy looked like a weight had been lifted from his soul as he laughed and Nico felt his own heart warm ever so slightly at getting to provide peace to someone for once. 

The son of Poseidon let out a relieved breath, “Promise me those won’t be the last words I hear from you, di Angelo.”

Nico smirked, even letting a chime of laughter slip between his blue lips. Having accomplished his daily mission of getting Nico to smile, Percy clasped a hand on Nico’s shoulder before giving a nod and mischievous smile, “Come on man, I think it’s almost time for dinner.”

With a childish groan that elicited another laugh from Percy, Nico told him he’d meet them in the dining quarters soon. With a salute, Percy scaled downward and raced for the stairs below deck to help Piper and Frank set the table.

As he climbed down the pole, Nico’s hands were so cold he couldn’t feel the wood in his grasp, only numbness and a faint tingling like static from lack of blood flow. A sensation he was all too familiar with. That was part of the reason he always climbed to the mast’s peak, because up there where it was nothing but shrieking wind and cold so violating it seeped into his bones, Nico could truly escape. Escape the others, yes, but mostly himself as he’d just confessed to Percy. 

The experience of sitting up there— among the howling wind, stinging mist, and elevation that made it hard to breathe— was the purest form of sensory overload he could find in the confines of the flying ship. And with all his senses at their maximum capacity, things like memories of Tartarus and emotions regarding Will or the mission, had no place. Oddly enough, with even his sleep being plagued by terrors, the only place he could truly find peace was atop the mast.

His combat boots had barely touched the deck when he felt someone approaching him from behind. Despite the blissful state of numbness he’d achieved, Nico knew he couldn’t so easily escape from his sister. Turning, he was met with a stern face and extended arms that held out a jacket.

“If you’re really going to do this tomorrow, you can’t get a cold.”

Nico tried to object, reaching out to show her his exposed arms didn’t even have goosebumps, but she was having none of it. Rising to her toes, she draped it over his shoulders with a look that said hypothermia would be the least of his issues if he didn’t put the jacket on. 

He obeyed, sliding his arms into the sleeves, the soft fabric within feeling strange as it tightened, stretching around his muscles. That was new for him, having substance to his frame. He was still getting used to it; having an appetite, having to get new clothes, and having said clothes not hang from him as if a skeleton. He’d worked hard to get healthier in the physical sense, had been sparring with Jason and Percy, and even iris messaging Clarisse for tips with whom he’d formed an odd sort of friendship. But Nico had done none of it for himself, he didn’t see the point when his powers worked just the same whether his lanky frame was built with toned muscles or scrawny. His powers were what helped the world, and that’s all he cared about. No, he’d done it all for Will, for the sake of smoothing out the furrowed brow line that had begun to crease whenever Nico admitted to not eating for a day… or two.

The corner of Hazel’s lip twitched upward in satisfaction before nodding once and motioning for him to follow her. With the jacket on and the sun beginning to peek out from behind the thick clouds, warmth seeped into Nico’s body. It reminded him of Will, and despite the pain it brought his heart— the recent argument ringing in his ears once more now that the numbness was beginning to thaw— he couldn’t help but smile a little.

Hazel led them to the very back of the ship, and turned to face him, resting against the railing with crossed arms. Nico stopped before her and stood awkwardly, not wanting to have this conversation with her. He was drained from the argument with Will and confessions to Percy, all he wanted was to rest, to sleep… something he hadn’t done in his whole life, at least not without night terrors.

“I won’t lose another sister, Hazel. I just won’t. And if I have to tear myself apart to ensure that, I will.”

“What the- how could you even say that? You think I want to lose a brother?”

He took a step closer, let her see the truth in his eyes, in his heart.

“You’ve felt demigods pass to the other side. Now imagine hundreds, thousands of our friends, of our family, doing the same.” He could feel echoes of that same sensation from the battle in New York, and every quest or battle. He lowered his voice, “I’ve got a chance at stopping that from happening. I have to try. Please ,” he begged, taking her hands in his own, “let me do what I do best.”

Hazel pulled her hands back, away from his touch cold as death, voice incredulous, “Sacrifice yourself like always? Why does it always have to be you?" She shook her head and scoffed, "We don’t know what this could do to you.”

It hurt to look at him. The wariness in his face, the unending exhaustion that clung to his every pore. It hurt. She knew his poisoned relationship with sleep and would give up all she was, every ounce of power in her body, just for him to get one night of peaceful, dreamless rest. She could feel the weight of what he was prepared to do, but there was something else. 

She turned, looking out to the sea of clouds that seemed to go on forever, voice hollow as she fought back tears, the lump in her throat, the strain in her heart. “Do two things for me.”

“Anything,” Nico said as he moved to her side, leaning down as he braced his forearms on the railing, following her gaze into the expanse of blue and white.

“First, admit to me that you’re scared, that there’s a part of you that doesn’t want to do this.”

Nico swallowed, dropping his head and closing his eyes. He hadn’t put words to what he felt about it, had made a silent promise to himself that he wouldn’t give in to his fears or let them take shape. But the pain he was going to put her through while he was away, not knowing how he was doing… he could give her this.

And with a voice barely louder than the breeze surrounding them, Nico lifted the wall to his heart. “I’m terrified. If I can’t do this… if I’m too weak or too slow… so many will suffer.”

Beside him, still not looking at him with her gaze focused on anything but her brother, Hazel released a slow breath, eyes shut as if in mourning.

Nico hated seeing her like this, hated causing anyone— especially his sister— pain. In an effort to distract her, he angled his head to the side. “And the second?”

“You’re right, I have felt demigods pass, felt their souls leave the living world, felt them die.” She turned, looking down to meet his eyes for the first time with a gaze of ancient levity. And when she spoke, it was with the strength of Pluto. “Don’t let me feel that be you. Promise me.”

Nico embraced her, felt her press an ear against his heart and the rumble of his chest as he spoke into the top of her head.

“I promise.”

Will's words still in her ear, Reyna dumped the contents of her pack across her bed for the fifth time, closing her eyes as she began to reassemble it. Lupa had instilled in her the importance of being able to maintain control of a situation even in worst case scenarios. Her pack was as vital to survival as a weapon, and much like a rifle, assembling it needed to be second nature. What if she were blinded? What if they were stuck between shadows or it was just too dark to see? Will had told her Nico had a sort of night vision, but she couldn’t rely on that, not when it was likely he wouldn’t be coherent as the jumps progressed. 

She unpacked and repacked, over and over, hands memorizing each item and the optimal order to place it inside the bag. She packed to prepare her muscles, and she packed to distract her mind. Because when she stopped, even for a moment, she was faced with the gravity of what she would be doing tomorrow. And Jason’s words would flood back. 

Reyna knew it was only a matter of time before Jason knocked on the door to pick up their conversation. And she was using the incessant packing as an excuse to expel her nervous energy. She had nothing else to say to him. She was going, it was settled.

As she dumped her stuff onto the bed for the twelfth time, a knock sounded on the door. Her eyelids flew open and with a deep breath to straighten her posture and smooth out her features, she crossed the small room and opened the door. 

The open doorway didn’t reveal a blond son of Jupiter eye level to her, but instead the much taller son of Mars. Adjusting the angle of her neck to look up, Frank Zhang slouched slightly, obviously uncomfortable being taller than the Legionnaire. 

“Hello Frank, what can I do for you?”

Frank looked over her shoulder at the evidence of her packing and started to back away, “Oh sorry you’re busy, I can come back later.”

Just as the words left his lips, Jason appeared in the hall, having descended the stairs from the deck. He walked over, nodding to Frank, “Hey is it alright if I borrow her for a second? Our conversation was cut short earlier.”

Frank opened his mouth to oblige, but Reyna shot a hand out, clasping Franks arm and pulling him into the room, “Sorry Jason, Frank has something urgent to talk about.”

Frank stuttered, not sure what was happening as he was shoved into her room by the strong grip, and opened his mouth again but this time to apologize to Jason for interrupting but Reyna was already closing the door with a wink to Jason. 

Reyna leaned against the shut door, closing her eyes for a moment. She opened them to a very confused archer. 

“What was that all about?”

“Don’t worry about it. What can I help you with?”

But Frank wasn’t so easily deterred, and if there was one thing he knew, it was people… well archery, and people. It was a gift he had in common with Reyna due to their shared militaristic godly lineage. Which is how he was able to read the barely-there lines in her face, the pattern of rations and clothes littering her bed, and the empty bag with the worn zipper and turn to her.

“He’s trying to convince you to stay, and you’re running out of ways to convince him it’s a good idea for you to go. You’re using Lupa’s training to keep you busy because… you’re nervous about tomorrow.” 

“And my zodiac sign is Cancer.” They smiled and despite the lighthearted joke, Reyna couldn’t help feel a beam of pride at Frank. He’d grown so much in his time with this crew aboard this strange ship, almost as much as Jason, maybe more. He still carried himself awkwardly but there was a strange sense of confidence there too. Reyna didn’t have to be blessed with prophetical sight to realize she was in the presence of a true leader, a demigod who was destined for greatness. Which is part of the reason why she had offered to go with Nico in the first place; between Percy, Jason and Frank, the demigods aboard this ship and at Camp Half-Blood were in good hands. 

Reyna gestured to the wooden chair behind Frank as she moved to lean against her mattress, ration packs crinkling beneath her.

“So what can I do for you,” she repeated.

Frank looked at his hands before clasping them with a sharp inhale and meeting her gaze. “I don’t want you to do this either, there’s so many unknowns and it’s hard to look past that, but… I wanted you to know that I get it. The strategy, I mean.”

Furrowing her brow, unsure of what he meant, she asked for him to elaborate.

“I would preface this by saying ‘don’t take this the wrong way’ but I know you won’t.”

Frank swallowed, shifting before explaining, “Nico has to do this, he’s the only one strong enough to do it… and the only one with a shot at shadow traveling to this extent. He’s the obvious choice. But you… anyone of us could do what it is you’re going to do, any of us could go with him and act as a security guard.” He leaned forward, bracing both forearms on the tops of his legs. “And it took me all day to figure out why you’re so adamant about going rather than one of the Seven. But I get it now… you have the least to lose. And you’re right, that makes you the best demigod for this. You’re not ignoring the terrible odds like the others think… it’s how you made your decision. You realized the Seven work optimally together and that we each have significant others.” 

Reyna felt her chest tighten. Frank was good, really good. But hearing her inner thoughts, her decision making process, spoken aloud was unnerving. Sensing her unease, Frank rose, raising his hands slightly.

“I’m not judging your methods, or questioning your conclusion, I just… I wanted to say thank you. And I know that doesn’t cut it for what you’re about to sacrifice for us all, but I wanted you to know that I get it, and even though I don’t like it, you’re right.”

Reyna’s lip twitched as she gave him the whisper of a smile. Back at Camp Jupiter, she never could have imagined the demigod before her could have grown so much. Yes, he would lead them well in her absence. She told him as much, eliciting a strong blush across his cheeks.

Running a hand through his hair, he rose to leave but paused with one massive hand wrapped around the door handle. “Hey, don’t be scared of Nico. He doesn’t warm up to many people and isn't quick to trust, but I doubt he’ll be able to stay cold towards you for long. And if I know one thing about Nico, it’s that he’ll do whatever it takes to get you there safely.”

“Thank you, Frank. That means a lot coming from you.” He smiled at that and nodded a goodbye before crossing the threshold.

“Oh and Frank?” Reyna called out. He paused once more, turning to see a smile on her face, “I’m not scared of anything.” 

“Careful, Praetor, the Fates might be listening,” he countered with a smile before closing the door.

Heart a little more at ease, Reyna turned back to her bed and had barely taken a step towards the mess when a knock sounded behind her. Without turning, she closed her eyes and called out to the stubborn Roman at the closed door, “I’ve made up my mind, Jason. Go away, I need to finish packing.”

She heard Jason clear his throat from beyond the wood, except it didn’t sound like Jason. Rushing across the room, Reyna swung the door open. Nico di Angelo stood eye level and unmoving, pinning her with those onyx irises in a way that unsettled her to the very core. 

“Leo wants us to meet him on the Quarterdeck early tomorrow morning so he can show us the rigging before making our first jump.”

He held her gaze for another moment, as if searching for something, but said nothing more. No words of encouragement or discouragement, no smile or joke to break the tension. Nothing. So with that and nothing more, Nico turned and left. She couldn’t help but watch him recede down the hall for his room.

If he was nervous or scared for tomorrow, she couldn’t tell. All she read from his tone and movement was that he was ready, ready for whatever they faced. She closed the door and whispered to no one but herself.

“What have you gotten yourself into this time, Reyna…”

Chapter Text

Reyna ascended the wooden staircase, the ship around her rocking gently as it sailed across an open sea. She wasn’t sure when they had made the transition to water but could see someone was very happy about it. 

Heading for the Quarterdeck, she’d taken a detour. Leaning over the railing she watched as Percy burst from the water's dark depths, vaulting into the air before diving back below like an overenthusiastic dolphin. Up and down over and over, he seemed to float in the air as the water rose like a geyser to meet him. The morning sun had yet to breach the horizon but the sky was alight with vibrant oranges and pinks, making the water look as though it were on fire. The air wasn’t cold as it had been the other day in the sky, and the salty sea breeze surrounded her like a warm embrace. 

It was a bit unsettling, if she was being honest, how calm and peaceful the morning was. How the waves sang and clouds glowed despite the looming mission.

She tried to enjoy it, for she had lived the life of a demigod long enough to know the rarity of peace as pure as this. Eyes closing blissfully, she breathed the crisp air deeply, soaking up every ray of the ever rising sun. She noticed everything… like the sudden quiet— no breaking waves or jumping son of Poseidon. Brow arched, she opened her eyes and leaned over the railing, the furrow deepening when she couldn’t see Percy in the clear water, as if he’d disappe—

“Whatcha lookin for, Praetor?”

If not for her brutal training with Lupa who had a particular fondness for surprise attacks, Reyna would have startled so badly she might have fallen over the rail. Thankfully though, she was able to simply turn around to see a dripping wet Percy before her, stance wide and arms crossed in mock disapproval.

“What would the Romans think of their Praetor watching a Greek’s morning swim?”

Reyna rolled her eyes, “Don’t flatter yourself, Jackson. Leo asked me and Nico to meet him early to show us the rigging. The better question is, why are you up so early?”

Reyna had commanded enough soldiers in her day to see the blaze of Percy’s blue eyes, could see the darkened streaks that glinted in the light, evidence of his time in Tartarus when the irises had become accustomed to such intense darkness. 

And if she hadn’t been watching his face so closely, she might’ve missed the split second of darkness cloud his vision, how his carefree smile slipped millimeters, eyes narrowing, shoulders falling nearly as much. The demigod shook his head, dispelling the water from his hair and limbs, but she’d seen. Just as she’d overheard Annabeth telling Piper about how worried she was getting for her boyfriend's lack of sleep since resurfacing; how she worried for her boyfriend and how the tension never left his body even though he tried to hide it.

Reyna couldn’t imagine what it had been like to trek through Tartarus. From what she’d seen in their eyes, it was worse than anything her mind could concoct.

Soldiers, and people, dealt with trauma in different ways, but never had she seen someone so good at masking it as Percy Jackson. Even when he’d arrived at Camp Jupiter with amnesia, not even knowing his own name, he’d still been able to hide his pain and loss. All that meant she wasn’t surprised when Percy deflected the question with that contagious smile of his.

“A magic metal dragon steers this ship, we were floating through clouds yesterday, and Frank sleeps as a bulldog. There’s a lot of questions in this world, Reyna,” he said with a wink, “and some just aren't meant to be answered.”

Reyna gave him a smirk before letting her features school into something more serious. She opened her mouth to ask if he’d gotten any sleep last night, but Percy sensed the question and before she could get out a single word, ran straight past her, diving overboard with a yell.

“Say hey to Leo for me!”

With a curse under her breath and a not so Praetor-like hand gesture, Reyna continued her walk to the meeting location. When she arrived, Leo was hanging upside down from Athena’s extended left arm, tan legs hooked around the stone forearm. She hadn’t actually seen the statue before now, and she wasn’t too proud a demigod to admit it’s shear size sent a spark of anxiety throughout her. It was massive. 

“Pretty impressive, huh?” Leo shouted from what had to be at least thirty feet in the air. He checked the last knot on his elaborate network of rope and leather before carefully maneuvering himself along the goddesses arm and shoulder then slid down her toga— apologizing the whole way down, he was a gentleman after all.

Leo joined Reyna’s side, turning to face the statue as she did.

“Ya know I searched every inch of that thing and I don’t get it… no trapdoors, no gears, no mechanics. Unless you count one pissed off face that makes me want to be on my best behavior, it doesn’t seem to have any abilities.”

Reyna couldn’t take her eyes from it. Nico had seen this already, knew that this is what he’d be transporting, and he’d still agreed. She was lost in thought when out of nowhere, Leo checked her in the arm with a bony elbow. 

“Oh! Remember you asked for the medkit last night?” He rushed to a mess of crates and toolkits at one side of the deck, pulling out an unlabeled leather duffel bag, “Could you maybe leave us the princess band aids? They’re pretty popular.”

Reyna joined him, leaning over the large bag that was packed with supplies. She mumbled under her breath as she focused on finding one thing in particular, “I just need… this.”

“Uh, that’s the sedative. What do you need with that?”

Reyna gave him a small smile as she bent down to place one of two orange pouches into her travel bag, “Don’t worry about it. Thank you for bringing this."

“Dude!” Leo yelped, “We talked about this!”

Throwing the pack onto her back as she rose, Reyna saw Nico was now standing beside Leo, fog like shadows dissipating, evidence of a shadow jump.

“Sorry,” he said to the son of Hephaestus flatly, and nodded to Reyna with just as little emotion. Reyna watched his expression closely as he took in the Parthenos, but there was no fear, no hesitation. Nothing.

“Uh-huh, I’m somehow not convinced, but given the circumstances I’ll let it slide.” Leo moved in front of them, spreading his arms wide, “And with that, let’s get started on the Valdez Custom Statue Harness Tour!”

In the shade of Festus’ tail that acted as a sort of metal umbrella over the entire Quarterdeck, Reyna and Nico followed as Leo explained the elaborate rigging. After a thorough tour, Leo had them each get in and out of their respective harnesses until they could maneuver the leather without hesitation. Once they had accomplished that— the straps familiar in their hands and knots able to be tied blindfolded— he suggested they hook and unhook each other, just in case.

“Never know what could happen,” Leo elaborated, “might as well practice all the scenarios.”

Reyna nodded, admiring his attention to detail in describing everything to them, but with a glance to her side, she noticed Nico tense at the suggestion. Though despite him flinching each time her skin came in contact with his, he voiced no objection.

When it was her turn, she was surprised at how strong he was, how sure each movement of those long fingers were and when Leo asked if she felt comfortable with Nico’s understanding of getting her in and out by himself, she didn’t hesitate to say yes.

“Alrighty, I think that’s about it. I’ll tie some extra rope around the base just in case, but besides that, I guess it’s time.”

Reyna clasped his grease stained hand and shook it firmly. "Thank you for doing this, Leo.”

She glanced over to Nico who was leaning against the railing with a spare piece of rope practicing one of the more complex knots. He was so engrossed that he didn’t look up when she waved to them both and said she’d go round up the others.

Now alone with Nico, Leo walked towards him, “Hey, gotta say I really respect what you’re doing, man.”

Nico’s hands paused and he looked up, “What?”

“I know the others haven’t made it easy for you,” Leo began, running a hand through his hair, “but I just wanted to say thanks.”

Setting down the rope, Nico leaned heavily against the railing as Leo did the same. He let out a sigh and angled his neck to take in the statue’s entirety. “Don’t thank me till I get this thing to Camp.”

“You can do it, I believe in you. We all do.”

Nico blinked.

It had sounded less corny in his head, but Leo meant every word. Even as he looked at the massive stone goddess and couldn’t see how it was possible. But if anyone could do it, it was Nico  

“Hey, Leo?” Nico’s voice lowered enough Leo had to turned to hear. “You’ll… you’ll watch after Hazel, right? Not that she needs protecting or anything, but I just… gods, I don’t even know what I’m asking.”

Of all the impossible things he’d seen Nico do, rambling wasn’t one of them. Let alone speaking with such openness. Fear simmered beneath each word. 

Leo reached over, placing a hand on Nico’s shoulder. The taller demigod flinched but didn’t pull away, and Leo swore he’d keep an eye on Hazel.

“But only till we all get to Camp, okay? Then she’s your problem.”

Nico let a ghost of a smile lift the corner of his lip, “Yeah, okay. Thanks.”

“‘Cause if anyone can do this, it’s you. I know we all joke about never betting against Annabeth, but I’d rather volunteer for latrine duty at Camp than ever bet against you.”

Nico’s eyes went wide a moment before his breath hitched with quiet laughter. “Thanks, Leo.”

Just then, Reyna appeared, followed by the rest of the Seven. Leo heard Nico breathe in sharply before pushing from the sun warmed rail, heading for the thick shade by the Parthenos.

Annabeth walked towards Nico, embracing him on her tiptoes. Nico looked over her shoulders to make sure no one was watching before pulling away and lowering his voice.

“Will this work?” 

It was torture, Annabeth thought, to witness the dying hope in those dark eyes that needed something, anything to assure him. But worse was the fact that it was a statue of her mother that was putting him through this. More than any demigod she’d ever met, she wished that for once, the Fates would take pity. Nico had been through enough. But she swallowed her sorrow, her fear of what would happen if the statue didn’t make it in time, if Nico was harmed in any way, and if so what it would do to her boyfriend. She swallowed it all, and took Nico’s frigid hands between her own, gazing deep into his eyes that reminded her so much of Percy’s as of late.

“It has to.”

It was all Nico needed to hear. He nodded and hunched over as she pulled him in for a hug. It felt like an apology.

He’d barely taken a step away from Annabeth when Hazel replaced her, dipping under his long arms and clasping herself around him tightly.

He felt her voice rumble against his chest as she threatened, “Remember your promise.”

As he had the other night, Nico reached down and planted a soft kiss on the top of her head, promising her again that he would not put her through the pain of feeling her own brother pass on.

And with that, his heart could take no more, so he nodded to Reyna who finished embracing Jason and joined him. Together, they worked in silence, fastening every strap and situating themselves in their respective harnesses.

Nico looked around, Annabeth gripping a very fidgety Percy with white knuckles to keep him from stopping them; Jason with worry clear on his face and Piper rubbing a hand over his shoulder blades; Hazel quickly wiping a tear from her cheek as Frank did the same; and Leo who bowed his head in a cowboy salute. 

Turning his head away from the family he didn’t deserve, Nico cleared his throat.

“Ready?”

It was amazing to Reyna, it really was, how Nico’s face yielded nothing and yet a single word held so much. A word that came out hoarse as if he was holding back tears.

Taking a deep breath, she nodded.

Nico closed his eyes, brow furrowing with concentration. Every shadow on his face left his face as though being absorbed, even the seemingly permanent dark circles beneath his eyes. Reyna thought it oddly poetic that Nico was brightest just before turning into literal darkness.

A chill went through her— slowing her heart that had begun to race and stealing the air from her lungs— as she took his hand, the long fingers and strong grip colder than a Hyperborean giant’s ice.

Reyna thought she knew darkness well from living the life of a demigod, a Roman Praetor trained by the wolf goddess, Lupa; thought she’d been honed in it, for it, by it, but she realized in the next heartbeat that not only had she overestimated her fluency with darkness, but fear as well. What she had endured thus far was luminous compared to what she now faced.

The ship around them melted, her friends turning to silhouettes before fading, and then all she knew was the howl of silence.

The song of darkness.

Where they landed, Reyna had no idea. She stayed in her harness, leaning against the base of the Parthenos heavily as the dizziness subsided. Beside her, Nico was already removing his straps. 

“You’ll get used to it,” he muttered as he moved to help free her. When she stopped seeing three of him, Reyna asked if he was alright— she was, after all on this quest to keep him safe and well.

“I’m fine,” Nico nodded despite the sweat beaded on his forehead that gleamed in the dying sunlight. 

Testing her legs, Reyna took small steps until she felt more sure of herself. She finally looked around, taking in their surroundings. “Where are we?”

Nico didn’t turn from his pile of kindling and twigs, speaking over his shoulder instead as he worked to get a fire going as the sun had rapidly begun to set since their landing. 

“Mount Olympus.”

“Excuse me?” 

Nico nodded to a large painted sign several yards away with writing in strange characters. Below them was indeed written ‘Mount Olympus’.

“National park in Greece. Percy’s told me about Roman training with Lupa at the Wolf House. Figured it’d make things more familiar. And there’s always shadows in forests, no matter what time of day.”

“Oh. Thanks,” she managed after processing the shrouded kindness.

Avoiding the pang of awkwardness, Reyna slid the bag from her back and settled onto the grass across from him, rummaging through it to find tonight's ration. She was starving after the jump, and she hadn’t even done anything. She couldn’t fathom how Nico was able to coax the fire so patiently.

Just as the last slivers of light receded from the sky, Nico’s efforts were rewarded with a substantial flame made bigger as he added large branches cut into pieces with his nightmarish blade. Reyna had tried to help, of course, but he’d pinned her with an icy glare.

“Rest. You’ve never shadowtraveled before.”

His eyes had softened the slightest amount and he’d asked if she could set out the sleeping bags. Under normal circumstances, Reyna wouldn’t have taken his comment well, would’ve taken it as an insult and challenged it. But there hadn’t been malice in his voice, and she got the sense that starting this first fire meant something to him.

She set out the sleeping bags.

With the fire going and rations atop a flat rock cooking at its center, Nico finally lowered onto the ground and leaned against the Fir tree behind him. He tried to savor the minor ache of his shoulders and dull throb at his temple, tried to remember how he felt after this first of many jumps. It would only get worse from here.

“Is that from your partner?” Reyna asked respectfully, nodding to Nico’s hand, her voice cutting through the awkward silence between them. 

Nico hadn’t even realized he’d been twisting the golden ring. He immediately stopped the motion, tucking the ringed hand beneath a shirt covered bicep as he crossed both arms.

“Hate that word.”

Surprised he’d responded at all, Reyna tilted her head. “What?”

“Will isn’t my ‘partner’, he’s my boyfriend.” He mumbled under his breath, reaching forward to prod the firewood with a stick, “We’re not criminals… or cowboys.”

Reyna stifled a laughed before realizing he wasn’t joking by the tug of his lip. Rather than slapping herself, she tried again.

“Did your boyfriend give it to you? I’ve seen the silver skull ring before but not that one.”

Nico didn’t uncross his arms, just leaned his head back against the tree. Rudeness wasn’t his intention, but his head was suddenly pounding, and he could barely hear her question. It was all he could do to grunt a reply.

He was so good at hiding pain that Reyna took his response as a cold shouldered signal to leave him alone, so she rose and halfheartedly told him she was going to call in an update.

When she got to a clearing just out of earshot, Reyna pulled a small object from her pocket and sat atop a moss covered rock. The cellphone felt strange in her hand, it’s screen illuminating her face in the night covered forest. Leo had given the modified device to them somewhere between his explanation of the harness system, saying he’d done some engineering magic to ensure it wouldn’t be detectable by monsters, but only for one use. They’d been instructed to burn it after. He’d also given them another device for contacting, but it was dark and she was too tired to figure it out right now.

She dialed the memorized number and her face appeared in the top right corner of the screen, at the screen's center was a rotating circle. Leo had called this a Facetime? Whatever it was, she felt stupid sitting amongst the trees and moonlight with this synthetic brightness and spinning circle. After a few moments the circle disappeared and was replaced by a smiling face.

“Reyna, so good to hear from you!” Annabeth beamed, “How was your first jump?”

“It was-”

“Ay is that Reyna? Where’d they land? How’s Nico?” 

Reyna opened her mouth to answer Percy who shoved his way into the camera’s view with a wave despite Annabeth trying to push him away, but she heard a door burst open. 

“Reyna! Are you both okay? Where’s Nico?”

The Praetor couldn’t help but smile at the three, they were so energetic and yet she could see the weariness they were all trying to hide for her sake. 

“First jump was good, I got a little dizzy but went away quickly,” they all nodded, having had similar experiences with their first times. “We’re in Mount Olympus and-”

“I’m sorry, you’re where?” Percy questioned with a raised brow.

“Mount Olympus, apparently it’s a national park somewhere in Greece. Nico got a fire started so we’re waiting for dinner to heat up.”

Annabeth nodded and from behind her Hazel wrung her hands, “And Nico? How is he?”

“He’s… good,” she replied, not sure how to explain his coldness to her just now.

“Uh-huh, that wasn’t even a little convincing,” Percy smirked.

Running a hand across her tousled braid, she tried to elaborate. “Well he… I don’t know, he’s really distant and kind of… dismissive? I understand he doesn’t know me and I’m not pressed if he doesn’t want to be friends— we aren’t children, this is a serious mission— but it’s going to be pretty difficult if he won’t even talk to me.”

The other side was quiet for a moment, and Annabeth was the first to speak.

“That doesn’t sound like Nico. Being distant, most definitely, but I’ve never known him to completely blow off conversation when someone else is trying to talk.” 

Percy’s lips pressed into a thin line, thumb and pointer finger holding his chin in.

“Actually it does sound like him.” Lowering his hand, he looked to Reyna, “I’d bet Riptide that he’s hiding something.”

It was Reyna’s turn to furrow a brow. “Like what?”

“Pain,” Hazel filled in, nodding, “Percy’s right. That’s what he does when he’s trying to hide the fact he’s in pain.”

“I’ve been watching him since we landed though, he hasn’t so much as flinched. He even chopped wood for the fire.”

Percy huffed, “Yeah, well, that’s Nico for ya. If he doesn’t want you to know something, you won’t.”

“He didn’t mean to be rude,” Hazel said almost like an apology, “he probably was just desperate to rest.”

“I should go check on him then. Talk to you all after the next jump.”

With goodbyes exchanged, Reyna ended the call and headed back to the temporary camp, crushing the phone between her hands as she went. It wasn’t hard to find her way back, what with the forty foot tall statue and all.

Nico was pulling the fish from the flame blackened rock when she rounded the Parthenos. He saw her out of the corner of his eye and before she could confront him, he held out a leaf with a large portion of the fish wrapped inside.

She took it with a thank you after throwing the crushed phone into the fire, and went back to her spot across the flames. 

“Did you call?” He asked, not touching his half of the fish; crossing his arms instead as he leaned back against the tree.

“Yes, they were happy to hear we’re alright. It was Annabeth, Percy, and Hazel.”

Nico nodded but said nothing.

“How are you?”

“Fine.” She opened her mouth to press, but he sensed it and added, “Just tired is all. You?”

“I’d be much better if you ate your food,” she countered, gesturing to the untouched sliver of fish on the leaf that lay beside him in the moss. He waved a hand dismissively and tilted his head, waiting for an actual response. She gave in, glad to see him so much as pretend to care about her wellbeing. 

“I was dizzy when we first landed, but I’m alright now. Starved though, as I’m sure you are.” She gave a pointed look to his meal and he tried to dismiss it by saying he wasn’t hungry. Shaking her head, Reyna set down her clean leaf, “I didn’t do anything and I’m drained, you shadow traveled us to Greece.” 

He said nothing, the only sounds the crackling of embers between them, and she looked through the amber flames. She looked at his frame, the silhouette of sharp muscle definition highlighted by the flickering light against the tree. She remembered how scrawny he’d been the first time he’d wandered into the Roman camp, how skeletal he’d appeared. Reyna had no idea the extent of what he’d endured— from what Will had told her, it was better if she didn’t— and she didn’t know what that kind of trauma could do to a person, but if he didn’t take care of himself this mission was doomed.

“Come on Nico, you have to eat.”

When he remained silent she inhaled deeply, about to lay into him, but something stopped her. He was spinning the ring on his finger again, not the skull but the band of swirling gold beside it. She got an idea.

“How did Will get you to?” 

Because Will must have been the one to convince him to change his diet, to gain weight and strength, to care for him when he didn’t know how to. And the way he stilled told her she was right.

Nico whipped his head to her, opening his mouth with slitted eyes and a clenched jaw, but then all the tension left his body at once. He released a hiss of breath.

It’s not like he was purposely starving himself, the problem was that he wasn’t hungry at all. The word had no meaning to his body, none. It was Will and Hazel who would gently remind him three times a day, every day, that he needed to stop whatever he was doing and feed himself. Ever since that part of his brain had died, that neural response that signaled hunger to the brain, Will and Hazel had been the stand ins.

Nico wanted to tell Reyna about how when he’d gotten out of that jar his stomach forbade him from eating more than a bite despite the starvation gnawing at his bones. Wanted to explain how horrified even he’d gotten after the House of Hades when he’d looked in a mirror on the Argo II and seen his condition— how the sunken in eyes, gaunt features, dangerously thin pale shin made him look like a wraith. Wanted to explain how embarrassed he’d been after finally opening up to Will and admitting that despite his power, he was wasting away into nothingness, becoming the ghosts that haunted him in his nightmares. Wanted to explain, or at least try to, how it had felt meeting Will. How Will had taken one look at Nico and not winced or gasped or run… how he’d looked into Nico’s eyes, taken his frail hand, and listened… just listened. 

Nico wanted to say all this and more but he couldn’t find the words nor the courage. Something told him he could trust the Roman, but at the same time he couldn’t. He just couldn’t, not yet. Will had fussed at him more than once that he had trust issues, but given his life, who wouldn’t?

Despite not having an appetite— he doubted he ever would— Nico grabbed the leaf plate and ate in silence. And he was grateful Reyna didn’t press. Once he’d finished, they both zipped into their sleeping bags, blew out the flames, and went to bed without another word.

Having always been a light sleeper out of necessity, Reyna’s body woke her, pulling her through the thin membrane of sleep, alerted by a prolonged rustling in the sleeping bag across the charred pile of firewood. 

Thanks to her conversation with Will, she was well aware that Nico tossed and turned in his sleep even when Will was beside him, but something told her this was different. Instead of the usual throwing his head back and forth, left to right or clenching and unclenching his fists with twitching legs— as she’d observed him doing for about an hour before she’d shut her eyes— he’d begun to make soft noises through clenched teeth. As she was trying to decide whether or not to be worried, he stilled, the noises and motions ceasing. The forest fell to complete silence.

Rubbing her eyes, she checked her watch. ‘0000’— midnight. They’d gotten into their sleeping bags less than two hours ago. After looking over to Nico again, squinting in the darkness, she turned and closed her eyes. Not a moment later, a low dragged out groan filled the air and more rustling. 

Reyna slowly sat up, quietly unzipping her sleeping bag. As she inched closer, fingers slick with dew, the soft noises became more distinct.

Nico was whimpering.

Heart skipping a beat, breath lodged in her throat, Reyna knelt in the wet grass by his side, unsure of what to do. Will had told her sleep was so rare for Nico that unless the nightmares got too bad, she shouldn’t wake him.

You’ll know

As if in testament to her memory, Nico began to writhe again. His lips trembled, hands reaching out, as the whimpers solidified into pleas. His head shook back and forth, pressed into the small pillow, tears beginning to stream down his pale face, over his clenched jaw, and down his pulsing jugular despite how tightly his eyelids were clamped shut.

His body thrashed as if struck and Reyna had only felt this helpless once in her life as Nico’s breaths quickened, nostrils flaring and he began to mumble louder, trapped in the clutches of the night terror.

“No n-no no I-no can’t… no more… p-please please no more make it… please make it stop make it— please…”

The words choked in his throat, sputtering as he fought to breathe. And all Reyna could do was watch as Nico curled in on himself, wincing as he brought both palms to his mouth and began to scream, sound muffled by his hands. She noticed in the moonlight how one hand wasn’t nearly as scarred, and remembered Will’s story. She wished she had Apollo’s blessing now, wished she could heal him from his past, but she knew deep down that even the god himself couldn’t free Nico of this.

Her foolish wishes were interrupted when Nico’s screams grew louder and his eyes flew open. Reyna moved away quickly as he tore from his sleeping bag. 

Back and shoulders hunched, fingers like claws digging into the dirt, knees pressed into the earth like an anchor, Nico forced his eyelids to stay open. To stop seeing the—

He stared at the ground beneath his hands— dying blades of grass, shadow choked dirt— and focused on not throwing up his dinner.

Reyna physically ached to reach for him— to do what, she didn’t know— but she heeded Will’s warning and spoke into the night air, focusing on keeping each word steady. 

“You’re safe, Nico. It’s alright, you were having a nightmare. You’re safe…”

After what felt like an eternity, Nico’s breaths evened out, his fingers relaxed in the dirt and he winced in the starlight, eyes hazy and out of focus.

“Will?”

“No, it’s Reyna. It’s just you and me here.”

When he regained enough control over his body to sit back on his heels, he was grateful for the darkness and her lack of night vision because he felt his face go red.

It all came back to him— the Parthenos, Greece, shadow traveling, Reyna.

With a mumbled apology that even he couldn’t understand, Nico made his way back to his sleeping bag, sliding under its cover despite the sweat coating every inch of his body. He lay there in silence, pretending to have gone back to sleep, until he heard Reyna release a tense breath and return to her bag. Once the rise and fall of her back had finally slowed, Nico opened his eyes and turned his head to take in the Parthenos towering over their campsite.

Unable to let himself sleep fully, he spent the rest of the night drifting in a sort of twilight slumber, basically a state of meditation. He’d learned to do this only a few months ago; it allowed his body to rest but not his mind, never his mind. That was the poison.

If he relaxed fully— let his mind go blank and sink into unconsciousness— the night terrors could catch him, trap him, torture him.

When the birds began to sing and Reyna was beginning to wake, Nico opened his eyes, squinting in the morning light. He got up and rolled his sleeping bag, Reyna doing the same before situating her pack and throwing it over either shoulder.

They moved in silence, Nico too embarrassed from the night’s events for small talk. Only when she asked if he needed help getting into the harness did he mumble a clipped, “No. Thanks.”

Reyna again watched, fascinated, as Nico closed his eyes to the forest and that aura of light overcame him as the shadows from his face and surroundings became one within him.

Like a watercolor painting, the trees began to blend with the moss covered dirt, the blue sky mixing between. So much color around them, so much light radiating beside her, and then nothing but darkness.

Chapter Text

Balls of fire hurtling for his chest, razor sharp teeth flashing inches from his face, sword glinting in the sun as it swept towards his legs— Percy hadn’t felt so at peace in days.

From the other side of the Argo's massive deck, Annabeth and Jason watched as Leo, Frank, and Hazel sparred against Percy. What had started out as just a bit of morning exercise had quickly transitioned to somewhat of a private lesson with Percy yelling out advice or constructive criticism on their form or teamwork. Despite him providing the blueprints, telling them exactly how to adjust their attacks to beat him, no one could.

Jason felt a mixture of fascination, jealousy, and intimidation as he watched. Even without wielding a single drop of water, Percy fought like a demon. Skill every Roman spent their life striving to achieve. Skill that remained a dream for most, if not all. 

Water surrounded them as they sailed across the open sea, and yet Percy didn't call for it. The opposite actually; as he fought— moving at incredible speed, every movement of the utmost control and precision as if in a lethal dance— he kept the water around them still, using his powers not to aid in the fight against the three demigods, but rather to force the rough waves into submission, keeping the ship steady. Son of Poseidon— controlling not just the battle, but the battlefield itself. 

Working together, the three launched coordinated attack after coordinated attack, with little success. In the hour since starting, they'd landed no more than a few relatively shallow cuts on Percy’s jaw and exposed biceps.

Without warning, Frank shifted from a timber wolf back to human, quickly shooting an arrow that Percy slashed easily with Riptide. The arrow clattered to the wooden planks in two pieces. Leo doubled his efforts using strikes of flame that crackled in the air, but Percy dodged the attack, even as Hazel simultaneously swung her blade, colliding with Riptide as he brought the sword down from slicing Frank’s arrow. The thunk of the arrow halves against the planks and the clashing of both swords were no more than a heartbeat apart.

The three's eyes narrowed in concentration, gritting their teeth as sweat dripped from their faces and soaked through their shirts. Then there was Percy.

Percy who was grinning wildly. Percy whose eyes held a strange glint, suspended in the oceans of his irises. Percy with thin lines of blood adorning his body from the few blows he’d taken in favor of getting in close and delivering a blow twice as devastating.

Jason wondered why Percy didn’t call on the water to heal the injuries, but after watching for a moment more, muttered to himself, “He’s enjoying this way too much.”

Beside him, Annabeth nodded with a sigh. “Yeah, but I haven’t seen him smile like that in awhile.”

“Speaking of which,” he added gently with a sidelong glance, “how’ve you been?”

She rolled her eyes with a smile at Percy who’d thrown her a wink from within the fray amidst parrying Hazel’s blade while placing a solid kick to the back of Leo’s knee. But then her smile fell, lips pursing in thought. 

“What happened was… words can’t begin to describe. But for some reason, I’ve been able to put it behind me. Must be an Athena thing," she scoffs dejectedly. "I don’t have nightmares anymore, at least nothing close to terrors. But Percy… it’s been... harder for him. Tartarus— what we did and saw down there… it haunts him.”

Jason remained silent, listening as her words filled with something like guilt. Without taking her eyes from the chaos before them, she wrapped her arms around her waist.

“I can reason with my emotions, ya know? Like, I can see it as a bad experience that I survived, and I'm able to focus on just that. That no matter how bad it got down there, I survived.” She lowered her head and Jason watched her gaze fall to the ankle that had only recently healed. Her voice became nothing but breath as she whispered, “I survived but he… a part of him is still down there. And I... I did this to him.”

The self hatred and almost ancient weariness weighing down each word was that of the world itself. It wasn't hard to believe she'd endured Atlas' burden once before.

If a part of Percy was still in Tartarus, then maybe a part of Annabeth still held the sky.

“Hey," he nudged her shoulder, "if you’re gonna blame anyone, blame that big ass spider." That managed to crack a smile across Annabeth's haunted features and Jason clasped a hand over her shoulder, urging her to face him so that she could read the warmth in his eyes. “It’ll get better, he’ll get better. And we’re all going to help him, alright? The two of you aren't alone anymore.”

"Thanks, Jason. You're right," she says with a nod and looks back to the four— drenched in sweat but exchanging high fives, having decided to take a break. Percy gave a valiant salute before jumping overboard as Frank transformed midair into a dolphin, diving after him and Leo pulled a water bottle from his toolbelt, offering it to Hazel.

“Do you think this will ever be over?”

Jason sighed, running a hand through his sun warmed hair.

“I mean we’ve just gotta subdue Nike, get the Gordian Knot your mom told us about, get back to Camp Half-Blood, use the Parthenos to heal the rift between the two camps, then convince the Romans to unite and help us fight Echidna’s monsters before they make enough of us bleed to raise Gaea.” Jason counted each task on his fingers and showed her, "That’s only four things. We totally got this.”

This time, she couldn’t hold back a laugh, deep and true. It’s chime gave Jason hope. If this girl who'd battled Typhoon and Kronos, held the sky and walked through Tartarus could laugh, then maybe it was possible. But there was one thing he hadn’t counted.

His gaze lifted to the mast above them, where the usual dark figure was nothing but sea mist and weathered wood. Following his gaze, Annabeth’s lips tightened into a thin line.

“I know, I’m worried too. But if anyone can do it, the two of them can.”

Heart aching uncomfortably, Jason nodded before giving her a hug and saying he was going to go look for Piper. Annabeth pulled away with a smile and watched as Percy sat on a column of swirling water, making hoops in the air for Frank to jump through in his dolphin form.

She watched it all, trying to imprint in her mind this memory of his smile, his laugh illuminated by the morning light. Something deep inside her— an instinct that had kept her alive for so long— told Annabeth days like this were numbered.

Please, just a little longer.

Let him live, not just survive.

A little longer.

Just a little longer.

It didn’t take Jason long to find Piper after remembering the morning's conversation over breakfast with the others. She'd mentioned wanting to write a letter to the Romans in hopes of preparing them for what Echidna— the ‘mother of all monsters’ or whatever— was sending and persuade them to end the feud and unite with the Greeks now, before it was too late. Civil diplomacy wasn't really the Roman way, not with Octavian at the helm, but Piper had a way with a pen and paper that could deal blows more swiftly than a finely honed blade.

With a swift rap of knuckles against her bedroom door, he shouldered his way in. When Piper heard him enter, she didn’t turn, instead continuing to mutter under her breath with a scowl that made him keep his distance.

“Wish I could write in Charmspeak… the things I’d make that asshole do…”

A smile played at Jason’s lip at her muttering, he’d mentioned it to her once and she’d adamantly denied such a habit. After another moment of incoherent curses, conceivable only by a child of Aphrodite, her hand stilled. The harpy feather brushed against her cheek as she twisted around in her chair.

“Sorry, I’m being insensitive. How are you doing? Did Percy beat them all again?”

From where he sat against her bed, the linen pristine and giving off a lilac aroma, Jason let his shoulders slump as he let down all his guards.

“It’s alright, I enjoy watching you restrain yourself from writing death threats to our potential allies.” She rolled her eyes and he answered, “I’m alright, worried about… you know. And yeah, ‘course he did.”

She rose, slipping behind him to lay against the plethora of pillows before tapping her front. Jason gladly obeyed, laying on his stomach between her legs, head resting against her torso that rose and fell softly with each breath. She tilted her neck back to gaze at the wooden ceiling as she rubbed her boyfriend’s back, feeling herself calm with every ounce of tension she lovingly dispelled from his shoulders and back.

With both hands pressed against his frame, she felt it rumble as he said something too low to hear.

“What was that?” she asked, trying to keep the smile from her voice as she felt his breaths slow.

“Why write with… quill ‘n ink?”

She glanced over at her desk that looked like that of a Victorian era poet’s and grinned slyly. “Adds flair and formality, don't ya think? Plus, what’s more intimidating than curvy letters?”

Jason laughed weakly as his entire body melted into hers and the rumbling laughter turned to deep snores.

As the snores of her boyfriend echoed throughout the room, Piper’s thoughts wandered. She had the sinking feeling that her letter wouldn’t work, but she had to try. She couldn’t just sit around and do nothing while Nico and Reyna risked everything to get the Parthenos home. And although she felt like a traitor to her own heart, she seemed to be the only one remotely considering what would happen if they failed.

Then again, the others didn't seem to realize the extent of Percy and Nico's bond. Not that she did either, but she could feel it. A bond stronger than the Fate's usual thread. A bond that, if severed...

Gods help them all. 

As Reyna came to, she winced at a burst of sound that exploded behind her. She shook the dizziness from her head, pleasantly surprised that it dissipated almost immediately. 

“Hey, where do you think we are?” she shouted to Nico, taking in the landscape of dense trees glowing beneath a radiant sun, much like where they’d just left. When no answer came, Reyna unfastened her harness and clambered over to Nico, only to find him hanging limply in the leather bands. Panic shot through her with breathtaking precision. 

“Nico!”

Thank the gods he raised his head slowly, blinking in the bright light with a groan.

“Is that a waterfall?” he asked weakly, flinching as she had to the steady roar behind them. 

Reyna made to help him from the knots and buckles, but Nico swatted her away. “I can do it, thanks.” Then added, somewhat disjointedly, “Sorry for startling you. Sometimes it takes me a moment.”

Hopping down from the statue's base, she kept an eye on him while taking in their surroundings.

“You're right, it's a waterfall. Looks like we’re at the base of it," she tracks with a pointed finger, "the shore is just over there.”

When the rustling had stopped, Reyna turned back around to see Nico hunched over, drenched in sweat as he tried to catch his breath. She started to ask if he was alright, but he waved her off. 

“I’m fine.”

After a few deep breaths he straightened, training his onyx gaze on the tree pattern, the formation of the waterfall, the rocks and chattering wildlife around them. 

“Plitvice,” he concluded. Reyna raised a brow, not sure if he was still incoherent from the jump. He saw her confusion and gestured to the lake behind them with its steady flowing tide as it was fed by the waterfall. “Plitvice Lake National Park. We’re in Croatia.”

She nodded, not sure if that had been the desired location or not, but satisfied by the lack of alarm on his face. In fact, there was nothing on his face but sweat. As he continued catching his breath, Reyna gestured to the abundance of fresh water with the tilt of her head. “Maybe we should wash off.”

Nico rose, breaths more even now, and looked down at the drenched shirt that clung to his body uncomfortably. His pale cheeks flushed and Reyna turned, heading for the waters edge in an effort to lessen his embarrassment. As she stripped the outer layers of her armor, Nico ran a sweat-slick hand through his shaggy hair. Definitely in need of a wash. Gritting his teeth, he began to peel off his shirt. The wet fabric felt like skin.

Pretty sure I had a nightmare about that once. 

Reyna dipped a toe into the rippling water experimentally and, finding it wasn’t too cold, called out as she twisted towards him, “It’s actually not that ba-”

The words died in her throat at the sight of Nico’s bare torso. The Praetor wasn’t silenced by the glistening caverns of toned muscle, or the harsh angles of his lithe frame— not even by the jagged scars that coated most of his body. No, it was the purple and blue bruising that marked, like a brand, along his ribs and sides that stole thought from her mind. The coloring was bright as the rays of sunlight against his pale skin. 

After several shuddered breaths, she jerked her chin towards the hellscape of ruptured blood vessels. And Nico simply shrugged, the movement made stiff by what had to be significant amounts of pain.

“Looks worse than it is.”

Reyna was glad she had the slight chill of the water to ground her. It was probably all that kept her from throttling the other demigod. 

“You knew ?”

Like an elk spotted by a lion, Nico went utterly still. The son of Hades nodded cautiously, voice even as he assured her, “They’ll fade once this is over.”

She'd been warned by Percy of his self-sacrificing tendencies, but this—

“They'll— gods…,” she trailed off, forcing herself to stop. Leading a Legion had taught her that chiding was less than effective on some warriors, and she had a feeling Nico fit that description. So she took a deep breath and climbed from the water towards him, the grass and dirt clinging to the water droplets covering her legs. “I’ll make a deal with you, di Angelo.”

Nico furrowed his brows in confusion at the sudden change of tone. The Praetor didn’t sound angry anymore, more so diplomatic as she continued.

“If you promise to not lie about your injuries anymore, I'll get us some help with guarding while we sleep.”

Nico almost felt bad for noticing the loophole. The Roman hadn’t known to make him swear on the Styx. Without an ounce of hesitation, he nodded. 

Reyna took another deep breath before loosing a sharp whistle that pierced time and space to call her greatest strengths. Not two heartbeats later were Aurum and Argentum standing proudly before her. It was selfish, she knew, but until now she’d made the decision to not bring her beloved dogs into this dangerous mission. She couldn’t lose another animal— not after Scipio. They were all she had left in this world.

But she'd knew from a random conversation with Hazel that Nico had a special fondness for hellhounds. And while Aurum and Argentum were far from hellhounds, they were hounds nonetheless. Besides, she hoped their gemstone eyes and precious metal bodies would remind Nico of his sister who he was surely missing.

Nico let out a curse in surprise and nearly fell to the grass. With a smile, Reyna nodded to the dogs, urging them to go sniff the other demigod. They obeyed and with wagging tails, leapt onto Nico, this time bringing him to the ground. Reyna took a step forward, hand raised, to call them off for fear of hurting him, but the command died in her throat at a burst of laughter that erupted from within the ball of metal and flesh.

When they finally calmed down, having approved of Reyna’s companion, she introduced the gold and silver dogs to him. When she was done, Nico looked up at her from the ground, a glimmer in her eye that she knew was a rarity.

“They’re beautiful.” Argentum, sensing the compliment, dove for him with metallic licks against his cheek. Nico pet his silver back and he curled up beside Nico’s crossed legs. “I’ve always liked animals, but they stay away from me… able to sense death 'n all that. The only ones that can stand to be around me are the hellhounds like Mrs. O’Leary and Cerberus. And I guess you two, huh?”

Reyna felt light with warmth at the genuine smile on his face. The moment of peace was interrupted by a loud splash. Turning, she saw Aurum had lept into the lake and had begun to bark for them to join.

“You up for a swi-,” she started, only to see Nico and Argentum already racing past her to the water.

Nico’s hand slid under Will’s shirt, freezing at a familiar feeling beneath the pads of his fingers. 

His eyes shot up to Will who shied away, a strong blush spreading across his cheeks like wildfire. Shame, embarrassment, and something else radiated from him. Nico looked down at his fabric covered hand for a moment and waited for permission before slowly peeling the shirt back to find five raised lines of surgical precision etched in perfectly horizontal rows across his heart.

Nico lifted his fingers as if burned but gave not a millimeter more to fear. Because he’d seen marks like these before. On himself. Where his were jagged and desperate, these were measured, calculated.

Will closed his eyes, the marks stretching as he drew in a ragged breath. Opening them, he took Nico’s hand, the electrifying coldness of his boyfriend’s palms grounding as always. Nico was silent as Will placed his finger onto the first line. The white scar tissue a stark contrast to his sun brazen skin.

“Lee Fletcher.”

Then over the next. 

“Michael Yew.”

Another breath, no less ragged.

“Charles Beckendorf, Silena Beauregard, Luke Castellan.”

Those he couldn’t save. Marked on his skin forever.

Will untangled himself from Nico’s arms that did nothing to restrain him, averting his eyes, posture guarded as he drew into himself. “I’ll understand if you wanna go.”

He turned, not sure if he could bear watching Nico leave. But Will spoke the truth, he wouldn't blame Nico for wanting to bolt. What kind of doctor was so weak they resorted to such actions? It was the only way he could cope with them, his failures.

He needed to forget them, needed to erase the memories of feeling their last breaths and dying heartbeats beneath his hands that had been too slow, too weak, too late to do anything. But at the same time, the thought sent him spiraling. Who was he to forget them? Why did he think he was allowed the luxury of moving on when their lives had ended on his table or on bloodstained ground at his knees?

So he’d etched them over his heart forever. Drawn out their lives in perfect, precise lines. This way, he could carry them with him, could give them physical form as he lived on.

His racing thoughts were interrupted by a cold palm clasped around his wrist.

Stepping fully in front of Will, Nico silently placed his own scarred palm flat against Will’s chest, feeling the rough tissue press against his own. Eyes closed, he muttered under his breath in Greek and then a warm smile graced his lips. He looked up.

“They all reached Elysium.”

He should be grateful, should feel lighter, but all he felt was cold. 

"They should be here," he bit out. "They should be here, Nico. I failed them."

"You did all you could. It was their time to go."

Will shook his head, tears he didn't deserve to shed staining his face like trails of blood. "No, no there's always more— I could've done more, I should've—"

Nico leaned down, planting the most gentle, heartfelt kiss on those marks, and the sharp edge Will had carried with him for so long dulled beneath the touch of his angel. Nico rose, looking down to behold his sunshine, his light, his everything and wiped away crystal tears with reverence.

“I love you, Will Solace,” he whispered into the dark room, voice soft yet no less powerful for it.

A declaration to the shadows. A challenge to the universe.

Will gaped up at him with wide eyes. Nico had never spoken those words before, neither had he. Wearily, sure that this moment would end, Will tilted his head back to search Nico’s face for regret or hesitation. He found none. Only his own reflection in depthless, unflinching, onyx eyes. 

“You don’t even know me," he blurted, incredulous, even as those eyes grazed his soul. 

Dropping his head, Will made to pull away again. But Nico took Will’s chin between two fingers, grip impossibly gentle despite thick callouses. “I want to, if you'll let me, even the darkest corners. Will,” Nico lowered his voice to that of a rasp, a prayer, as he leaned in, “I can’t imagine a life without you.”

The room spun just as it had that night as Will was thrown from the memory and slammed back to the present. Thick sleep clouded his vision and he instinctively flung out an arm, reaching for— his hand met nothing but empty sheets.

He sat upright but didn’t move for several moments more. Legs stretched out, he leaned against the bed’s headboard. He focused on each breath, fighting to soothe his constricting heart that ached so much he could barely breathe. Finally rising, he swayed as his head went light. Reflexes took over as he ran through a clinical analysis of himself, finally coming to the conclusion with a huff: he hadn’t eaten a solid meal since news of Nico’s departure… which had been a full day ago.

Will looked over at the far wall where a mirror hung. His eyes were gaunt, posture wreaked, features depressingly somber. It had barely been twenty four hours.

Squaring himself in front of the reflection, he forced one of his signature glowing smiles onto his lips before widening his eyes ever so slightly to lift them away from morose and into that of enthusiasm. He considered himself, scrutinizing as he searched the mask for any imperfections in its construction and, finding none, took a deep breath and pushed back the thick cloth sheet, identical to his brothers’ and sisters’ that acted as barriers to their meticulously placed ‘bedrooms’. 

His family liked to feel each other’s presence and warmth so most kept their curtains parted at all times, the only form of privacy being that the girls lived upstairs and the guys down— but even then, you could see up to the second floor just by standing in the center of the first due to the second floor being just a parameter of rooms hovering over the second as if a square donut of wooden flooring. If one of his sisters leaned over the railing from any of the four sides, they could easily see straight down into the first floor. This made it especially easy for rotating shifts when they could simply jump down through the hole instead of using the creaky staircase and waking anyone who might be resting or studying.

But despite being surrounded by his family from all angles, and the smiles and waves directed at him as he exited the cabin, Will hadn't felt so alone in ages.

Heading for the mess hall— a name he thought strange to describe a stone roof held high by marble columns with no walls and no ‘halls’— Will rubbed the sleep from his eye between waves and warm smiles to the demigods he passed. He’d almost made it when something wet sprayed across his left side. Turning, he jolted so suddenly that he nearly fell to the ground in surprise. 

Hazel tried and failed to quiet the laugh that erupted from deep within her. “Hello to you too!”

Hands raised, Will narrowed his eyes in confusion at the figure before him. It was Hazel, and yet it wasn’t. At least last time he saw her, she wasn’t made of mist.

“Yeah that was my first reaction too,” she said, mouth moving just as if it were her real body talking. She extended an arm, twisting it to show him how it moved. “It’s something Leo’s working on. He's been fiddling around with the Archimedes spheres and needed a subject for the first test run.”

Will blinked at her, conveying to Hazel that it was far too early for him to wrap his head around the concept, and to be fair, she’d watched Leo make the damn thing and still had no idea how it worked. 

“What time is it at Camp?” she questioned, changing the subject much to his relief.

Will focused on the sun's warmth against his back, reading the intensity. “‘Bout seven-ish. Last shift went till 2am so I technically have the morning off, but you know me.”

“You busy right now?” she asked after nodding, “I could really use some Solace wisdom right about now.”

Will smiled warmly to her mist form. He’d taken a liking to Nico’s sister the moment he’d met her and would do anything for her, but his empty stomach forced his attention to gaze longingly at the breakfast spread and linger for a moment. Noticing the puppy dog eyes, Hazel let out a chime of laughter and made way to an empty table. It was early enough that only a few tables were occupied— most campers either asleep or in their morning training sessions— and no one usually enforced the ‘sit at your cabin’s table’ for breakfast. Not that the rule could apply to mist... probably.

Will filled a bowl with oatmeal and returned to the table, setting it down to look up at her, eliciting another chime of laughter as she nodded to the mountain of fruit he'd put on top.

“Eat,” she pleaded, eyes creasing from the smile despite her mist features. Will gave her a look of gratitude and apology for the lack of etiquette as he unceremoniously shoveled food into his mouth.

While he ate, Hazel took in her surroundings, wishing she were actually there. Out of habit, she realized she was now staring at the edge of the lake, at a specific tree. Unmarked and no different from the rest of the tree lined shore, she and the Seven all knew that tree was special— it's foliage was thicker than the rest and its branches hung lower in a canopy of shade. It was Nico’s favorite spot.

Hazel remained transfixed, hoping to see Nico resting against its trunk with that signature far off look to the expanse of the lake, to watch, from the shadows, the radiant beams of light as they reflected off the gentle rippling liquid. Maybe if she hoped enough, the shadows would materialize into her brother.

When at last she heard Will set his spoon down on the wooden table, Hazel turned her attention to him. The famed son of Apollo— renowned at camp for his mastery of human interaction, medical genius, and that infectious smile— looked exhausted.

“You had a question for me?”

Hazel leaned forward and lowered her voice, “Yes. A very important question that impacts the health and wellbeing of this entire camp.” 

He raised a brow, urging her to continue, clearly intrigued.

“Will Solace, counselor of Cabin Seven, head of the medical oversight at Camp Half-Blood— how are you?”

Will blinked, “Uh, what?”

“I live with six of the most powerful living demigods, all of which run on too little sleep and various levels of spite. I know a sleep deprived demigod when I see one. And you, sir… rival most of them right now.”

He considered lying, but knew it would be a losing battle with the daughter of Pluto. “I’m... still adjusting,” he responded honestly. “It’s gonna take some getting used to— not knowing where or how Nico is— but other than that, I’m alright.”

“Do you know how great it is to hear a real, genuine answer out of somebody?” Her voice sounded lighter, mist shoulders not as weighed down. “And don't worry, he'll be alright. Reyna won't let anything happen to him, we can trust her.”

Will ran a hand across his face with a nod, then straightened his posture.

“Oh, speaking of sleep, there's something I wanted to discuss with you,” he said, wringing his hands beneath the table. “Clarisse and I were strategizing yesterday with the others at the Big House, trying to prepare for when you all get here… hopefully before the Romans and Echidna's forces… and I wanted to advise you stay well rested and ration your energy.”

“Sure, for what?”

“Well… we don’t know what condition Nico and Reyna will be in once they reach Camp, but I think it’s safe to assume they won’t be up to fighting in this battle.”

“You want me to reserve power so I can shadow travel them to safety when they get here…,” Hazel finished. “That’s a great idea, I’ll tell the others. I think we’re meeting up soon.”

Will nodded in thanks, a fragile calm washing over him to know Nico would have relief, have a chance to rest right when he completed the task. Hazel opened her mouth to speak but her mist form flickered, once it re-solidified she rolled her eyes.

“That’s Leo’s signal for ‘time’s up’. It was great getting to talk, Will. Hope to see you soon.”

And with that, she was gone. Will looked around to find a large group of campers staring, wide eyed at the spot Hazel had just been. With a laugh, he rose from the table to go explain his future sister-in-law's impossible form.

As his sandaled feet touched down, tall plush grass brushing against them, Zeus squinted in the radiant midday sun— he made a mental note to speak with Apollo once he returned to Olympus. Such blatant flaunting was unacceptable.

The god started for the lone cabin so adorned in roses and vines that it was difficult to see the wood with which it was constructed, moving along a stone path as he looked around at the fenced in fields surrounding the cabin, the brightly painted barn off to one side connected to the cabin by another stone walkway.

Within the fenced in pastures were sheep. Dozens upon dozens of white specks dotting the fields. As he walked past, some came closer, sticking their large heads over the wooden beams. He paid the creatures no mind, just continued on without hesitation, for he was only here for their master.

It had been many centuries since he’d sought them out; he made a habit of not keeping company of those with more knowledge and power than he. It had been so long that he’d been surprised to learn that they no longer resided on Olympus, and had taken to this… strange living arrangement. 

A sheep farm. How quaint when they could have anything they desired.

The flaring thought settled with him uneasily, there must be a reason for it, this must be a cover. His paces slowed and for the first time he looked to the sheep as if they might morph into something monstrous. Only a few paces from the front door, Zeus halted.

They want my throne, that must be it. They have come all this way from Olympus to scheme against me in private— the farm is nothing but a diversion. They ar-

His thoughts were cut short from the torrent of muffled whispers that slipped beneath the rickety door.

“Is his majesty going to stand out there all day?” The ragged voice sounded disappointed… and vaguely Scottish. “I was hoping he’d come in, I’ve just pulled out the oat bread 'n jam for him.”

“Oh shut up, you. Knowing him, he’s wondering if we want that stupid throne,” to which the first mumbled in agreement.

Zeus was caught off guard by the comments and, feeling an unholy prod to his ego, marched up the creaking stairs before pounding on the door roughly.

“Oo, finally! I’ll go fetch the drink glass, let his majesty in will you?”

“Decided he’d pay a visit, did he?” The second voice said, getting louder as they neared the door. Much like the stairs, the wood in front of him creaked as it opened beneath a wrinkled hand covered in sunspots, revealing a stern and weathered face. “Good lad. Only took ya a century.”

Zeus kept his head high and swallowed his anger at the tone of voice from the being who stood no more than chest height to him. Had it been anyone else, he would have demanded control of the situation, but as it was, he followed the greeter into what looked to be a kitchen table. Great bundles of yarn and three sets of knitting needles covered the gloss finished table, but a small spot at one side had been cleared and staged with a placemat, pate, and silver utensils. 

“She’s gone through trouble to make you this, best appreciate it if you know what’s good for you.” But then the drooping features lifted and a haggard laugh escaped her lips, “Apologies sire, you don’t know what’s good for you, ‘ts why you’re here!”

With a grumble to restrain the retort he wanted to explode with, Zeus sat at the done up portion of the table just as the First entered through a doorway that must be to a kitchen. Plates balanced across her withered arms filled with sliced bread that steamed in the light and a variety of jams. Her silver hair was pinned to her head in elaborate braids unlike the one Second who’d opened the door for him and now pinned him with a death stare as she took the seat at the head of the table, hair wild and untamed as she blew it from her face before reaching forward to grab her knitting needles. 

Warm bread was placed before him and sweet tea poured into a glass chalice before the ancient being took her seat at the other head of the table, picking up her yarn work and continuing on a piece as the other was.

The room was silent for a moment and Zeus opened his mouth to explain why he was here, but the Second glared at him, a warning in her eye so with another huff, the god ate a piece of bread that tasted of ambrosia and took a swig of sweet tea. 

After he’d swallowed the last of his offerings, Zeus raised a brow in curiosity. “Last we saw each other, there was only one eye.”

The First rolled her orbs of striking purple irises and tutted with a wrinkled smile that revealed a row of slightly yellowed teeth. “Oh that lovely thing Hephaestus made us each a pair as a housewarming gift when we got the farm.”

“Not all the gods have lost the meaning of generosity,” the Second said pointedly. 

Ignoring the jab for the sake of his ever rising irritation, he cleared his throat. “And what of the Third? I did not see her on my way in.”

“Fate,” the Second grumbled. 

“Excuse me?”

“Third Fate, ‘where is the Third Fate’. We're are not numbers, majesty,” she spit the word out like poison. The First’s hands stilled in her work, trying to conceal an amused smile. She answered the question with less animosity.

“Your grace, she's shearin' sheep in the barn.” She waved a hand over the table eloquently, “we make our own yarn and knit hats, among other things, for those with chronic pain and mental illness.”

At that Zeus nearly choked on the tea he’d taken another sip of, “You what?”

The Second rolled her eyes and set her piece down with an air of impatience. “Hypnos blessed our sheep. They produce wool that grants the wearer peaceful sleep.” With a grimace she added, “Cuttin' the golden string of destiny was getting bland after millennia. So now we take turns; every week one of us tends to the strings while the others knit hats.”  

Not knowing what to say to that, Zeus set the glass chalice down. “I assume you know why I am here, shall I waste breath telling you?”

The fates laughed at Zeus, a horrible sound, delighted by his annoyance. The First rose, gathering up the crumb filled plates before him and turned on her heel to the kitchen, throwing a sing-songy voice over her shoulder as she swept away, “Of course we do, your highness. We know everythin'.”

The smile the Second had only moments ago from her laughter disappeared, face cementing into that of serious levity. “You feel it, don't 'cha? Your reign coming to an end. Don’t take it personally, all do sooner or later, regardless of the might and power of who sits on the throne.”

Zeus leaned forward in his seat, bracing both elbows on the table top— and promptly removing them at the glare he received. “Tell me how to avoid my fate.”

“Can't be done,” the Second rasped. “You speak of impossibility… and you know that deep down but are unable to see past the insanity clouding your vision. You're bein' driven mad by the knowledge of what is coming and that even you, God-King, are powerless to stop it. Your pride, your pathological need for unquestioning devotion, these will be your undoing. Not a child with blood of crimson and gold.”

“I said nothing of a demigod,” Zeus noted, his eyes narrowing as he whispered to himself, “so that is how it will be done.” 

Before he could question further, the First drifted back into the room with a smile. Without warning, she stilled at the room’s center and turned her head, eyes far off as the smile turned cryptid, the wrinkles in her leathery skin carved by shadows. 

“Do you hear that?” She bent to the floor, angling towards a rug woven with pink twine covering the wood boards. With a hand cupped around her pointed ear, she listened to a voice he could not hear, and with a hoarse whisper looked straight at the King. 

“Tartarus calls for you.”

Chapter Text

Nico’s eyelids fluttered open, birds chirping from the canopy of rustling foliage above him. He squinted in the bright morning light streaming through the leaves, eyes narrowing even more as his mind cleared.

“I know you asked me not to let you sleep for long, but I just couldn’t bring myself to wake you,” Reyna's low voice offered from across their small campsite. The Praetor was standing in front of the Parthenos, half-turned towards him as she folded the clothes they'd washed in the lake after their swim. 

Wearily, Nico propped himself up on both arms, surveying their surroundings. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept more than a few hours, let alone through the night. 

Something was wrong. 

“You alright?” Reyna asked, halting her folding to analyze his composure.

"Don't punish yourself, searching for darkness where there's light," Will's voice echoed in his mind. "Sometimes a sunrise is just a sunrise, Angel. Not an omen, just there to offer its warmth."

“Yeah, I'm... I'm fine," Nico decided and rose from his sleeping bag with a stretch that should've flared his bruises. Nothing happened. They didn't hurt. Experimentally, he rolled his shoulders, swung his legs. Nothing was sore. 

Reyna was watching, he could feel her stare, but thankfully remained silent until, “Must've been the hot chocolate I made last night. That always puts me in a coma.” 

Nico didn't remember hot chocolate. 

"Sometimes a sunrise is just a sunrise."

With a heavy sigh, he expelled the tension in his body and ran a hand through blissfully clean hair. They could use all the miracles and victories they could get on this journey. He should be grateful. 

They fell into their usual silence that with each day together was becoming less awkward and more comforting. Another thing to be grateful for.

Reyna moved with a purpose that Nico found grounding, and he realized that despite being partial to solitude, he didn't mind her presence. Dependable, strong, experienced. Percy had been right, she was a good travel companion.

The slightest of smiles tugged at his lip as he bent down to roll his sleeping bag. Behind him, Reyna was placing the last shirt into her pack. The zipper sliced through the soothing silence.

“So what’s the nex—,” she began, only to be interrupted by the forest floor suddenly shaking beneath them. He dropped the sleeping bag, quickly spreading both arms to balance himself in the quaking that only grew in intensity. Reyna lost her grip on the Parthenos and tried to make her way to him, swaying violently. Her eyes were wide as she yelled to him, “Nico? Are you— what’s happening?!”

Before he could so much as open his mouth, the earth beneath him split open, and like a gaping maw, swallowed them whole.

No no no this can't be happening— please I can't, I—

Mottled air rushed past his ears in a deafening shriek, so loud he could barely make out Reyna’s screams above him as they plummeted into the darkness. He could barely feel anything over the fear of what he knew would be at the bottom.

In anticipation, Nico threw out his hands to call on the skeletons he knew were buried deep within the unholy surface to slow their fall in a ramp, or encapsulate them like a shield, or—

Nothing happened.

He collided against the ground with such force that he felt both legs give, crack, shatter, on impact. The scream that exploded from him sent fissures through his ribcage. His vision swam, but the moment the ringing in his ears lessened, he bit his tongue and managed to brace himself on one arm and lift his head. Not that ne needed to even look. He could feel it. Could taste it. 

Tartarus. 

But somehow, he was in a massive cage.

Looking up he saw the cage had no top, it was limitless, a vertical tunnel leading all the way to the surface of the forest floor through which he’d fallen.

The stone ground beneath him must have been the reason for his call to the skeletons not working, and the reason his legs were nothing but flashing, pulsing pain, stomach rolling with nausea as his head went light.

Breathing in the acidic air wasn’t helping, and the familiar sensation of not getting enough useful oxygen to his lungs returned. The shallow breaths he forced himself to take halted when he peered beyond the thick bars of his confinement. Just beyond were eyes, an infinite amount. Bared teeth. Claws.

The red irises surrounding him made the yellow and white teeth glow in the dim light. But while the monsters on the other side milled around, jostling one another to get closer to the cell bars, none attempted to reach inside. But for how long?

Nico’s mind raced sluggishly, but a ragged whisper from behind him sliced through the toxic air. 

“N-Ni...co?”

He twisted his body causing his ruined legs to jostle, eliciting a sharp cry, but the sight was worse than the raging pain. Because strewn across the stone cell floor, spine at an impossible angle, chest barely rising and falling as those lungs— inexperienced to the air as he was— fought against its burn… was Reyna. And

Nico's

heart

stopped.

The Praetor was so still that if not for the strangled plea, he'd have thought her a corpse. 

“Ple… p-please… N-”

Gritting his teeth and fighting the dark spots corrupting his vision, Nico drug his battered self across the stone to her. His forearms and elbows grew slick with blood from dragging, scraping, ripping against the rough surface beneath him. It was nothing. His ruined legs shrieked in agony. It was nothing.

Panting, he finally made it to her side, and because of his ability to see in the dark, could take in the scene before him with clarity. Enough clarity to now realize how bad it really was.

Her spine was most definitely broken, but what he hadn’t noticed from a distance was that her neck was craned to one side, and her left shoulder had begun to swell with a vengeance. Her mouth opened and closed around stuttered gasps, as if trying to speak. He was intimately familiar. The first time he'd experienced this air, his body had violently rejected it as well, his lungs had refused to swallow a single breath. With time, he'd adapted.

Reyna was in no state to. And there was no time.

“Only the strongest can survive Tartarus,” the monsters jeered from beyond the bars, hundreds of thousands speaking as one. Their voices layered over one another like lashes from a whip. Claws raked against the bars. 

Nico didn't have the breath to yell that it wasn't about strength— if it was, Reyna would be fine, and so would Percy. But, it wasn't about strength. Never had been. The truth was simple:

No one survived Tartarus.

Some merely managed to escape. 

But he had neither the energy nor air to do so. And as he looked down at her again, tears welled up in his eyes, mind and soul racing as he tried to think of a way to heal her, a way to escape. 

With a scream, more ragged and desperate than the rest, he pushed off with one arm to search the enclosure. There was only one object across the cell. When he grabbed it and returned, crawling on both trembling forearms, Reyna flicked her gaze without moving to see what he now held.

“D-do it….,” her eyes strained in the darkness, acceptance melting away her fear as she wheezed, “pl...ease... ” 

“No, no don’t make me do this, Reyna,” he pleaded, heart on the brink of collapse. “I can’t, I-I won’t.”

Desperation gripping his throat, suffocating him more than the air, he turned to the limitless space above their heads and with all he had, called to any god or being who might care, might listen.

“HELP HER! PLEASE! I’LL STAY JUST HELP HER!”

He collapsed against a shaking arm, heart pounding with strain, chest heaving as he fought to satiate his lungs. The Parthenos, the wars, the camps, the gods… none of it mattered, none of it, as Nico beheld the pain in Reyna’s face. 

She opened her mouth to plead again and Nico shook his head against the awful, awful sounds coming from her. Tears flowed down his cheeks. 

Claws scraping against rusted metal bars filled his ears as the monsters tried to reach in, blood and gore from their serrated edges spraying him from their efforts. The bars began to groan from the monsters’ weight. It was only a matter of time before the cage bent enough for them to reach.

"Sometimes sunrises aren't sunrises at all," the monsters snickered with their inhuman chatter. "Isn't that right, Prince of Death?" 

Reyna choked on a whimper.

Never, in all his life, had Nico felt more helpless.

Ignoring the monsters, the smell, the agony in his own body, Nico laid a palm against her cheek. With the slightest of smiles, one meant for him alone, Reyna closed her eyes. 

The sound that came next would haunt Nico for the rest of his life.

******

In the fresh light of the breaking dawn, ribbons of light streaming to the forest floor as if a kiss that illuminated the vegetation, Reyna set about making breakfast as quietly as she could.

She lovingly swatted Aurum’s golden muzzle away from the makeshift fruit platter for the third time and glanced across the ashy spot of dead embers from the night’s fire. With Argentum curled beside him, Nico was still tucked into his sleeping bag, utterly lost to the world. 

Before going to bed after his watch shift had ended, he’d made her promise that she’d wake him up after three hours. He’d been adamant about it, and hadn’t lowered onto the ground until she’d nodded. But when her alarm went off, about two hours ago, she couldn’t bear to wake him. Not when he’d been running on fumes since that first jump. Not when she could see thick bruising— blues and purples so bright they looked like neon paint against his pale skin— peeking out from his ruffled shirt. Not to mention the ever darkening circles under his eyes. She might be new to shadow travel, but there was no way Nico could go on much longer in that condition. 

Meaning, at the sight of him still asleep— randomly shaking and twitching with incoherent muttering, but asleep nonetheless— Reyna had made the executive decision to let the demigod rest, and her promise from the night before retracted.

Content in her decision, she turned back to the task at hand, humming softly while Aurum licked at her ankle in apology.

All was peaceful, blissfully so, until the forest split in two with a bloodcurdling scream. 

The knife in her hand clattered to the grass, head jerking up in time to see Nico launch from his sleeping bag wildly, only to crash to the ground when his feet got tangled in the fabric.

"Nico!"

Argentum leapt from beside him, running wide circles around the chaos, barking defensively and head whipping around trying to find the threat.

Reyna whistled sharply, calling both hounds to her side as Nico stumbled with trembling legs that threatened to give out. He slammed against the nearest tree and clawed at his throat, glazed eyes rolling back in his head, as he continued to fight for air.

"Nico!" Reyna rushed forward, kneeling beside him, just out of reach. Her hands shot out, prying his fingers away from his scratched up neck. "You're okay, you're safe!" 

Shadows poured from his bare feet like ink, grass and moss instantly dying. The bark he leaned against turned black and cracked— a sound that had him flinch violently enough that Reyna startled, dropping his hands. They instantly curled into fists. But, he took his first full breath and despite concern turning her stomach inside out, Reyna went lightheaded with relief. 

"That's it, breathe for me," she encouraged, "just like that, you're doing so good..."

Nico couldn't make out the words drifting just out of reach.

Everything was too bright, too loud, but he forced himself to take in the light and sounds that were so different from—

It took several moments more before he became aware of his legs, how they weren’t broken. His arms didn't burn either. The only pain was radiating from his palms. A stinging that turned to an intense throb, and he looked down, disjointed and sluggish, to see his fingernails digging so deeply they broke skin. 

Blood pooled in his palms and it hurt, but he couldn’t relax his grip, was just barely remembering how to breathe. At least the red was familiar. 

He vaguely noticed Reyna crouching from a safe distance, her dogs gleaming in the light beside her, but his head is full of cotton and he can’t make out what what she's saying. All he could hear as she neared— reaching out until he flinched away from her extended hand— was the ragged sound of her pleas, the clanging of claws against cell bars, a blade being sliced through the air, her throat convulsing for air it wouldn’t receive. 

All he could see was a river of blood flowing from her neck, the same blood dripping from the rusted sword in his tremoring hand. 

It had felt real— too real— and his head spun with no intention of stopping.

It took what felt like an eternity to focus on the waterfall, the grass, the soft breeze surrounding them. But when he did, when his chest finally stopped heaving and the world halted in its spinning, when he could look at Reyna’s concerned face without seeing a jagged line across her throat, Nico clenched the bridge of his nose and breathed deeply.

"Nico? Are you o—"

“I told you to wake me,” his voice was hoarse, eyes haunted as they rose to meet hers. “You promised.”

“You haven’t slept in days,” she said defensively, not backing down an inch.

“You promised,” a whisper, barely louder than the breeze.

“I was giving you a chance to rest. You can’t keep going at this rate without sle-”

“I trusted you!” he screamed. 

Reyna maintained her posture, but it was an effort to keep the deceit gleaming in his eye from breaking her composure. With a shuttered breath, Nico ran a hand through his hair, wincing as it caught against the bloody crescent cuts in his palm. Voice quieter this time but still on edge, he tried again.

“That wasn’t rest. I was trapped.”

“What?”

He was silent for long enough she thought he might not answer, even the hounds grew impatient and Argentum began to whimper. He held out a hand to the silver dog who wagged his tail and bounded over.

“Sometimes, if I’m too tired, or a nightmare is too vivid… I can’t wake myself up. I knew how-," a heavy sigh, "I knew it was a possibility. That’s why I asked you not to let me stay unconscious for too long.”

Reyna felt guilt bubble inside her and she dipped her chin, swallowing her pride. “I’m sorry, Nico. I didn’t know.”

The son of Hades didn’t meet her eyes, just used the half-dead tree behind him to get to his feet and walked for the Parthenos, Argentum trailing close behind.

“Get rigged up. We're leaving.”

“Are you sure you’re okay to-” she started, but the glare he threw over his shoulder caused the words to die in her throat. No, of course he wasn’t okay, but they were demigods.

They had to keep moving.

Hera adjusted the rings on each slender finger as a servant draped swaths of light fabric over her body with practiced skill.

The purple and green gems set in white gold paired elegantly with the pale blue robes, reminiscent of the sky itself, being wound around around her. Layers upon layers— wrapping, coiling, suffocating— that did wonders to conceal her narrow figure. 

“Zeus was not in bed this morning, where did he wander off to?” she asked in a bored tone, gazing upon herself in the gilded mirror as the servant hurried to retrieve a pair of sandals from the armoire. The leather smelled fresh.

“I apologize, Your Majesty, I am not sure of the king’s whereabouts this morning.”

She huffed at that. Yes, she had stoked her husband a few nights ago, saying his throne could be in danger; yes, she needed him to sharpen his mind that was beginning to go lax and have him act with rage and confidence to force the other gods into their places before one got the idea to seize control for themselves… but she had been adamant that he consult her with every step he took. The idea that he’d gone off without her knowledge displeased her greatly. 

He could, of course, have left to sleep with some lesser goddess or peasant nymph, but Hera had been married to him long enough to know when that was the case. Not to mention, as the Goddess of Marriage, she could sense when a vow was being broken. It was a sensation she’d grown accustomed to after centuries.

“Every once in a while, those beneath must be reminded of who they bow to. Do you understand?” 

The servant was used to these sorts of random quips from the king and queen, and knew to nod silently. She did so while lowering to the frigid marble floor where she began the intricate work of coaxing each strip of leather around the queen’s leg. Both the laces and the queen's legs were so thin, each day she wondered which would snap first. Her own neck, most likely.

“I have made a lot of enemies, as have we all. But without my royalty, I would find myself in a very… undesirable situation.”

In all the time she'd serviced the queen, the servant had never known Her Majesty to speak in such a way. Untrained in a proper response, she kept her hands steady around the laces, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from trembling, and asked softly, “What will you do, m’lady?”

“Absolutely nothing,” Hera responded, looking down her nose to consider the servant before lifting her gaze to the mirror once more. Squaring her shoulders with narrowed eyes and a coy smile that warned of poison, she elaborated, “Maintaining a throne for millennia takes prowess and blood-lust, but above all, intelligence. It is Zeus who will act to ensure our hierarchy, ensure his reign is secure, all on his own. With my guidance of course.”

Because if this went poorly, if Zeus was unsuccessful in enforcing the subordination of his kin, then Hera would have none of it be connected to her, lest she make herself an even larger target should lose his throne— and thus, hers.

The servant, well versed in politics and strange royalty, but not yet fluent in the savagery of a queen, rose from her low bow with confusion after finishing the last knot of ribbon. 

“Deepest apologies, Your Highness, I... I don't understand.”

Hera did not look at the girl, only at herself— at the viper’s grin that melted, softening into that of a regal smile with a smooth unfurrowed brow and the slightest tilt of her chin. When she was satisfied with the rearrangement of her features, she moved past the servant, waiting beside the closed door for the girl to scurry over and open it which she did quickly, holding it wide.

As the Queen of the Gods passed through, she paused, head aloft as she glanced downward to the meek girl. Stolen. Nameless. 

"Pray you never do."

“Nico? Are we supposed to be in Rome?”

He didn't even know if he could, but the question made him not want to open his eyes. Fuck, he was tired. Beyond it, even, transcended to some other realm of exhaustion he didn't knew existed. Between the shadow travel itself, the weight of the Parthenos, and staving off the darkness for Reyna, it wasn't a huge shock that he'd been unable to manage the full jump. Disappointing, though. If he had the energy, he'd be furious with himself. 

The intended destination had been Tuscan Archipelago National Park. Not the center of Rome. 

Not the ideal place for a Greek demigod, and definitely not a place he had fond memories of.

“Gotta... get outta here,” he tried through a groan, but his tongue was heavy, and the warning came out slurred. He heard the familiar sounds of Reyna unhooking herself before feeling her hands tugging at his own straps.

“You can relax, we’re safe here," Reyna assured, taken aback by the tension radiating from him despite the dazed eyes and fluttering lashes. Every muscle was corded, prepared to fight. "Hey, it's okay, you’re with me— Roman demigod, remember?”

Nico shook his head adamantly as she freed him and he landed roughly, feet unsteady atop the cobblestones. He ground his teeth as his vision swam, and tried to get out a single gods damned thought.

“Rome’s love for Roman’s isn't stronger than its hatred for Greeks.” He gestured to himself then the 40 foot statue of Athena currently supporting his weight. “I’m sure your friends already know we’re here.”

“Right you are, goth boy. Though I wouldn’t exactly call us friends, would you, Praetor?”

Reyna stilled at the voice and turned slowly towards the sneering hyena of a demigod who was flanked by four more Roman’s on either side. No no no— 

“Or should I say, former Praetor?”

Reyna squared her feet, and with a sharp whistle Aurum appeared beside her and Argentum in front of Nico, snarling viciously.

This was... less than ideal. Nico had drawn his sword, but it was clear he was in no shape for the fight this monster would bring. She had to hope Argentum could protect him long enough for her to get them out of this. 

Reyna turned to the Romans, a wrath she hadn't felt in years simmering in her veins. Nico needed rest, and he needed it now.

“What are you doing here, Bryce? I seem to recall banishing you. Repetitive cruelty, unjust torture, the murder of your centurion for pleasure...”

Nico's posture changed, his face flickering with disgust. That was good, it meant he was present enough to at least be following the conversation. That alone allowed Reyna the clarity to even her breaths and square her shoulders. She was here to protect him. Nothing else mattered. 

Plan of attack. Find every weakness before daring to swing a blade.

Lupa's training had never failed her. 

She took in the eight demigods flanking Bryce and categorized the information she extracted, just as she'd done a thousand times. All it took was a heartbeat. The tip of her sword tilted, slight enough no one tracked it. 

“All of that went away the moment you crossed the sea, and was sealed the moment you agreed to help the Graecus scum,” he spit in Nico’s direction. “But don’t worry, I’m here to deliver you home. Octavian will be so pleased to have you back, I bet he’ll even let me repay you for my banishment.”

That signature sneer turned more sinister, and Reyna knew he was imagining how loud he could make her scream, was envisioning carving out her insides. She'd been the one to find his victims all those years ago. Mangled carcasses were all that remained. 

His words found no hold, grazed clean off her soul. Because from within the Parthenos' shadow, Reyna felt, for the first time, at peace with her decision. If she had to leave the legion to protect it, then that’s what she would do.

“Praetor is more than a title, Lawrence. It is a symbol of honor, of respect. Two things you have never known." She stood tall, distracting from the shift of her foot, and declared, "I will always be Praetor, even without the namesake or cape.”

Bryce let out a horrific sound that she assumed was laughter, head thrown to the side, to the cult flanking him until they mimicked the noise. When he turned back to the idiot girl and her Greek pet, a snide retort like venom on his tongue, she wasn’t beside the hideous statue.

Gladius extending into a spear, the weight familiar in her calloused grip, Reyna lunged for the traitor whose hands were stained with blood even now. As effortlessly as breathing, she pressed the point into the rusted breastplate of his armor, hovering above a missing chink of metal.

He stilled beneath the weapon and she levied an even glare into sickly green eyes.

“You will die for your crimes.”

The flash of fear on his face disappeared in an instant as he jerked his head to either side, motioning to the demigods beside him who had their own weapons raised and aimed at her.

"And so will you, traitor," he snickered.

He leaned into her spear, taking some demented pleasure in the way it broke through skin, and purred into her ear with putrid breath, “I wonder, how long will you last in my dungeon... what will your blood feel like on my flesh… how will you look hanging on my wall?”

The others attacked.

Like a coward, Bryce stepped back, letting his companions rush forward to surround her. Nico somehow got behind her and they fought back to back, both hounds aiding him. It was an out of body experience for Reyna to fight against uniforms she knew so well, faces she recognized, that used to mean home.

But it didn't matter. Nothing mattered but getting Nico to safety. That was her purpose.

Reyna successfully struck down the first who engaged her, ducking low and sweeping her gladius across his shins before rising quickly to land a jab perfectly square against his jaw. The next approached, going for her neck and catching a loose strand of her braid instead as she dashed to the side. Agile swiftness was her strongest skill. Lupa had made sure of it.

As the second, third, fourth body fell to her feet— leaping over one to meet another’s blade with her own— Reyna took a split second to find Nico amidst the fray.

It appeared he was doing his best to stay standing, faced with three Roman’s who gave him no room to breathe. She swirled around, pushing him out of the way to take the brunt while Nico struck the smallest. It wasn’t deep enough to fell him and the Roman raised his sword with rage in his eyes and blood weeping from his neck. Argentum flew out of nowhere and in a blinding flash, finished Nico's initial attack.

Nico’s movements were getting slower, his breathing more ragged. Always the calm, grounded leader in battle, the panic prodding at Reyna's chest was unfamiliar, set her off balance.

“Take my strength!” she yelled over the choir of clashing of blades, knocking another to the ground with the blunt end of her staff. 

“No!” Nico barked back, jaw clenched, hands bleeding around the hilt of his sword.

The cuts in his palms from the other night had split open, throbbing more and more with every swing. Another Roman lunged and he was barely strong enough to slide left and drag the stygian across the side of the demigod's ribcage. It was sloppy, even he knew it. His vision banked, it took everything in him to keep from swaying as it cleared. 

Seeing his disorientation, Reyna tried again, “Nico—” 

“NO!”

She bit out a curse that came out more a snarl, only to be interrupted by two Romans who looked identical and fought with the same precision.

From over his new opponent's shoulder, Nico caught a flash of brown hair and glint of a blade aimed for Reyna’s back that was left exposed while she was distracted by the simultaneous strikes of the twins. And without the energy to deflect it, or even shout out, Nico used his long limbs to leap in front of her unguarded spine, reaching with every shred of strength he had left.

Bryce snarled at missing his target, but when Nico let out a soft groan at metal sliding deeper and deeper into his bicep, the Roman’s anger morphed into amusement. Hearing it, Reyna turned in time to see Bryce take half a step back, allowing Nico to fall to his knees before moving in and twisting the blade slowly.

In her moment of hesitation, one of the twins caught her in the ribs with a swift blow, and she flung a hand out, willing the gladius to lengthen and her spearhead plunged straight through male’s sternum. She flung back around to see Nico still on his knees, clutching his arm as a crimson stream floated beneath his white knuckled grip. The remaining soldiers assembled themselves behind Bryce who licked the edge of his dagger, spitting Nico’s blood onto the cobblestones with a sadistic grin tugging at the corners of his stained lips.

Time slowed for Nico. It hurt to lift his head, but he managed, searching with drowsy lidded eyes. Swaying ever so slightly, he finally met Reyna’s eyes that dashed from him to the Romans and back, her own feet shifting on the cobblestones. But he caught her flickering gaze and closed his eyes, giving a defeated nod.

“See! Even your companion has given up,” Bryce chimed with pure glee, bending down dramatically and patting Nico’s raven hair. “Octavian warned me of you, son of Pluto, apparently you've got quite the reputation. Can't say I see it. I'm not exactly scared of an overgrown goth who can barely hold a sword.”

To his credit, Nico let Bryce talk, let the Roman taunt him for Reyna's sake. And she couldn’t help but smile— a feral grin that made the soldiers behind him still, even melting Bryce’s amused features a fraction, causing him to stand— as she felt that familiar smoldering at her arm, the mark luminous, scorching from within her blood. 

“First of all," she began, rolling her neck at the burn of power, "he’s the son of Hades, not Pluto, you imbecile. And second: you should be.”

From where he lay, crumpled on the ground, Nico gasped as if breathing for the first time in his life.

A rushing torrent of raw, moldable, power came crashing against the cliffs of his soul, colliding with the glass wall, rousing the darkness behind it. Shadows writhed to life, slamming into the wall in answer. His soul shuddered. Crashing waves deafened him. Shadows hissed their muffled song. His marrow trembled.

Every ounce of pain and exhaustion drowned, sinking amidst the choir of tide and shadow. Of life. Of death. 

Nico rose.

The Romans' confusion, fear, horror curled on his tongue like smoke. More, the shadows demanded, slamming against the wall of glass. More. 

Sword sheathed, Nico spread his palms, a chill that felt like home thrumming in his veins. Cobblestone crumbled, earth split in two. The ground ripped apart like layers of flesh.

And then the first bone punched through. 

Pure terror etched across the surviving demigods' faces. Even Bryce hadn't moved a muscle. Eyes wide, paralyzed where he stood. And Reyna... other than the shadow traveling and minor outbursts... she was suddenly confronted with the realization that she truly had no idea what the demigod was capable of.

She’d always been cautiously aware of his strength, based off the few stories she’d been told, but to see with her own eyes— ground splitting, bones rising, clawing for thrashing legs— Reyna was faced with her own ignorance. Lupa would've filleted her for underestimating him. Ally or enemy, not knowing a person's capabilities could be a fatal mistake.

And the lapping darkness of his power against her soul, colder than a Hyperborean giant, so cold it stole her breath away— she should be horrified. But all her mind could produce was awe. Incredible. It was incredible.

Like finally being able to stretch after an eternity curled up tight to the point of atrophy... the catharsis obliterated her senses.

In all her time at Camp Jupiter, Reyna had lent her power to countless soldiers. She knew the muted thrum of their base emotions, knew the near-imperceptible whispers of their souls. And because of such experience, a truth crystallized in her mind beneath the touch of writhing shadows. A truth that had her vision clearing, drinking in the sight of pale bones impaling soil and sky, dragging Bryce and his surviving companions down, down, down.

So, this was the power of the Big Three.

No, this was power. Everyone else was just playing at it. Who in her old legion could stand against this? Who in all of Camp Jupiter?

Other than an actual god, all that came to mind was Percy. 

“Please, don’t do this!” Bryce begged, sinking deeper and deeper, pulled down by merciless hands of bone, deaf to his strained pleas. The others were gone already, soil sealing above their heads like a mended wound. “I’ll give you whatever you want! I'll tell Octavian to banish me, or I- I'll— anything! Please!”

Nico glanced to Reyna. She was already staring at him, eyes wide, jaw slightly slack.

Arm still glowing, she gave a disjointed nod. It was all Nico needed to step closer and pat Bryce on the head. And then he crouched down, blotting out the sun. The mottled irises were even more revolting up close. The color of mold and spread wide, slick with tears. Nico saw his reflection in them. Watched the corner of his own mouth lift into a smile. 

“You should be glad. You’re about to get firsthand experience with the best torturers in all of existence. I’m sure they’ll be happy to compare notes, might even carve them into you.” The Roman gaped up at him, unable to form words. He smelled of decay— Persephone would love him. She'd make this new toy sing. The thought deepened his grin as he yanked Bryce up by the hair and whispered into his ear, “Enjoy the Fields of Punishment.” 

Bryce tried to cry out but dirt filled his gaping mouth, skeletal hands finally dragging him beneath the surface that closed over top of greasy brown hair. 

The moment Bryce was no longer visible, Nico swayed, knees giving out. Having shut off her reserve so as not to waste any, Reyna was already beside him, catching the demigod before he could collide with the bloodied ground.

From beneath his uninjured arm, she jerked, shifting Nico onto her shoulder for more stability as she half-carried, half-drug him to the Parthenos, a task made all the more difficult given his height. The motion elicited a strangled cry which twisted her gut and rang in her ear as they staggered over. 

She propped him up against the statue’s base, settling him down slowly with steady reminders to breathe. Through bared teeth, he hissed and clenched his eyes shut until she stopped arranging him. The wound started bleeding sluggishly and he felt his strength leeching out with it.

Reyna fetched her bag that had been thrown haphazardly upon landing, and pulled out a spare shirt, ripping a strip of cloth with her gladius. Laying it against the wound, she pressed hard enough to elicit a sharp breath from Nico, legs kicking as he tried to twist away. She couldn't blame him— was nothing short of amazed, if anything— that he was still conscious. The wound was deep, and the way Bryce had twisted the blade was going to make it a nightmare to heal.

“Sorry, I know it hurts but, here, keep pressure on this for a sec.” 

Nico breathed through his nose and fought to keep his eyes open once she took his hands and moved them over the now soiled fabric. She rummaged through her pack quickly, retrieving the medkit and opening it with a pointed glance to Nico. He grumbled but then made it obvious he was applying enough pressure, wincing as he did.

In their usual comforting silence, Reyna passed over a square of ambrosia and nodded for him to stop the compression. He eyed the ambrosia wearily before choking it down with a grimace. 

"What's it taste like to you?" she couldn't help but ask, mid stitch. They were lucky the dagger hadn't been poisoned, but the force had left a ring of bruising around the crater-like wound. It was intricate work, but Lupa had insisted a Praetor know how to mend their wounded.   

"Dunno, like a," Nico panted, eyes now shut, "... like a- ngh!"

He threw his head back, a whine hissing from between clenched teeth, spiking panic through Reyna.

"Shit, sorry," she gathered the needle and thread into one hand, scrambling for the medkit with the other, "hang on, there's some anesthetic somewhere that'll—"

"No," Nico coughed, immediately followed up by a miserable groan. "'m fine, save it."

While skimming the instructions Will had transcribed on the front of the bottle, she scoffed. 

"Yeah? How often do you anticipate stepping in front of a blade for me?" Those dark eyes cracked open, bleary and ever so slightly deranged. Echoes of his power thrummed in her veins like ghosts. "Take the pills, Nico." 

Nico took the pills. 

After dabbing a trickle of blood, she picked up at the last stitch, willing her hands steady. It wasn't usually so hard. But knowing she was contributing to his pain sent a tremor through every movement.

“I haven’t thanked you, have I?”

“For what?” he asked a bit weakly.

She gestured to the knot she was making in the last of a long row of stitches. “For watching my back. I know a lot of soldiers who would’ve let me take that hit as a lesson.”

Nico averted his eyes, but Reyna caught the whisper of a smile on his lip— so different from the one he'd given Bryce— and gently propped his arm against her knee to begin wrapping it, eliciting another choked groan.

In an effort to take his mind off the discomfort, she tilted her head.

“What does it feel like for you? To use your powers?”

Nico tilted back against the statue. The ambrosia had yet to kick in and it was getting more difficult to support the weight of his own pounding head. Reyna was being extremely careful, but each time she even grazed the surrounding area, it felt like he was being stabbed all over again. He got lost in the sensation for a few moments, focusing on the familiarity of pain to stay conscious— knowing if he were to pass out now, he’d get trapped in a nightmare and ruin all her hard work. 

When he started to think of a response though, he faltered. A memory flittered into his mind, an old one, from back when Percy had first brought him to Camp. Like a soft breeze, he could hear Percy's voice telling him about his own powers. How using them felt like a tug in his core. 

As the ambrosia began to take effect, Nico could even recall the way Percy had brought a hand to his chest, fingers tensing like claws against the fabric of his orange shirt with furrowed brows as if in concentration.

From the shadows, Nico had overheard demigods of all lineages and abilities speak of the sensations they felt when using their powers. Most were similar: a tugging in the gut, a pressure, a slight tension. But only Percy's explanation had been tinged with discomfort.  

Nico assumed it was because, for others— those not born of the Big Three— that this feeling of power leaving their bodies was manageable, watered down compared to the concentration and control that such power of Poseidon demanded. That to use such power was to push the limits of a half-mortal body.

With Reyna’s question still in the air, Nico remembered the months it had taken for him to find his own answer.

He’d been confused for a long time, because it wasn’t a tug that he felt. There was no tension or pulling at his core. Instead, he felt light. Like his core, his heart, his soul turned to fog, to smoke. Lightness always overtook him, but not in a soothing way. That smoke always felt volatile in his body, as if prodding his insides, violently writhing, fighting to be released. It had taken years, but as he trained and grew, he’d learned to control it. But the sensation was always there. As he grew stronger, so too did the discomfort. And then, there was the glass wall, and what lay beyond it. More, it hissed, even now. 

He clamped down on the real world, watching Reyna pour water from her canister onto stained hands, and tried to answer. 

"Um, well I guess it's kinda like if your insides got filled with fog and you had to control it?"

Reyna thought about that, moving back to his side to check her handiwork. The bandage looked secure. Before grabbing it, she glanced at her watch, making a mental note to reapply them soon and check for signs of infection. Maybe a few more strips of tape to prevent snags and bacteria would be a good idea. 

“That doesn’t sound sustainable," she finally said. "Has it gotten any easier with training?”

“Agreed,” he huffed, wincing slightly beneath her touch as she placed another piece of tape on a raised edge of the white bandage. “Yeah, sort of. It seems to get stronger as I do. Takes more concentration to control.”

She nodded, slightly taken aback that he was answering her at all.

“That’s interesting. For me it’s just a burn on the mark,” she twisted her upper arm so he could see the tattoo. “When I share my power, I can sense the receiver's emotions to a degree.”

Nico stilled, pulling away from her touch slightly. “You can what?”

“It’s not much really,” she backtracked, confused by his shock and reaching for his arm. He evaded again, so she leaned back on her haunches and explained. “Like, just now, I felt some of your confidence and anger. The more I share, the more I receive usually. Like at the end, there was this immense presence of power responding to mine. Much stronger than I've felt before,” she added, hoping the complement might ease the sudden tension.

The tension doubled. Tripled. She didn't think he was breathing.

Nico's voice died in his throat. His thoughts were too loud, not a single word made it to his tongue. 

He couldn’t let her do that again, not if there was a chance she could see his past. She was incredibly strong, yes, but he refused to let her suffer from his own pain. That was why he'd been exerting himself even more than necessary during jumps; to shield her from the darkest shadows so that it was more like passing out and waking up in a new country rather than his trek through the darkness, pulling her and the Parthenos to the next destination.

His arm throbbed, his head even worse. Maybe the Fates would let him sleep tonight. His bruised body shook with laughter. Delirium must really be setting in. Pathetic.

"Nico?"

Uncoordinated with a single arm, he leaned heavily against the statue to get to his feet. 

"Woah, woah," Reyna shot to her feet, hands hovering, "what are you—"

“We should get out of here,” he ground out slowly to keep from slurring. “It’s not safe to be out in the open like this. More of your buddies could show up.”

“You can’t be serious, you just took a dagger of imperial gold, you’re in no condition to shadow travel.”

“I’ll be in even less condition if another group of Romans find us. Come on, just a short jump to the forest. We’ll be safe there.”

She flicked her eyes to the thick bandage on his arm with concern and he lifted it in the air to show he was fine. Rolling her eyes with a strained smile, she gestured to the harness. Nico turned his back to head for his own buckles, clamping his eyes shut for a moment to swallow through the flash of pain before putting the harness on. He ignored the familiar feel of its straps digging into his bruises and breathed through the throb in his bicep to look over at Reyna who gave a thumbs up. 

Closing his eyes, Nico felt the shadows around them seep into his body to join the writhing darkness confined within. And then, he became one with the darkness he knew so well.

“Alright,” Annabeth began, “so thanks to Leo, Frank, Percy, and Hazel the mission to subdue Nike was a success.”

“And thanks to my ingenious gag that will prevent Ms. Golden Wings from cursing us, it was a double success.”

Frank shook his head, “Dude I still can’t believe you taped a sock to the Goddess of Victory.”

“Hey, there’s nothing a little duct tape can’t fix,” Leo pulled a roll from his belt and held it aloft like a priceless gem.

“Uh huh,” Jason rolled his eyes that twinkled with amusement despite the dark circles beneath them. “So next we need to get the Gordian Knot for its unifying strength or whatever your mom had said?”

Annabeth nodded, “Right, we’ll be heading into unknown territory so I think three would be best to send down, with four of us staying to protect the Argo II.”

“You should definitely be one,” Frank said, holding his chin between two fingers, “and then maybe Leo and me?”

The daughter of Athena nodded again, those grey eyes alive as she considered all the possible pairings. “That’s a good idea, Frank. Especially since we’ll be near a substantial lake meaning Percy can guard the ship, Piper can be on deck in case pirates or something that could use charmspeak arrive, and Hazel can keep watch from the masts to warn of any oncoming attacks.”

The group nodded to each other in agreement and Jason glanced at the table that had maps and battle strategies Annabeth and Frank had put together strewn across it. 

“Anyone heard from Nico and Reyna?”

They each shook their heads somberly and Hazel spoke up, nodding towards Leo, “No, but Leo made this iris message thing that makes your whole body mist, it’s pretty cool. We tested it out yesterday, I went to Camp and saw Will. If we could get a drop on their location, we could try it out on them.”

Annabeth looked to the son of Hephaestus with awe, “You really got that to work? I’d read the schematics on my laptop but had no clue what any of it meant.”

Leo beamed with pride, “Heck yeah I got it to work. And for sure, we could use it again, just need to know their general location.”

“Maybe while we’re getting the Knot tomorrow, Hazel, Piper, and Percy can try to iris message them and see where their heading next.”

They nodded in agreement once more, and began discussing their next moves as well as the probability that Octavius headed Piper’s letters. Somewhere during all that, Percy entered the war planning room and listened in on their conversation from the corner. When there was a lull in all the battle strategy talk, Percy took a step forward with an uncharacteristic amount of seriousness and looked around the table.

“I need to speak with Annabeth, if you’ll excuse us.”

Glancing to each other, they all shared a look of confusion and Leo broke the awkwardness with an equally awkward nod, “Uh, yeah dude, ‘course.”

“We’ll finish up and can brief you guys later,” Jason added. Percy gave a curt thanks and turned for the door through which Annabeth followed after shrugging her shoulders with the shake of her head to the others’ confused faces.

She followed her boyfriend through the hall and up the stairs to above deck, worry increasing with every silent step. When they reached a random part of the deck, he turned to her and the stone cold seriousness melted away, revealing a mischievous grin.

She opened her mouth to ask what the hell was going on but before a single word could escape her lips, he dipped into a low bow, voice drawling with an elegant flair, “Annabeth Chase, would you join me for a swim?”

She rolled her eyes with a smile, “You’re ridiculous you know that, seaweed brain? I was in the middle of war planning.”

His body swept in front of hers, gently taking her hand and spinning her in a way that sent butterflies through her chest as if they’d only just met, a sensation that only grew stronger as he dipped her— blond ponytail grazing the deck— and whispered in her ear with a husky fullness.

“The war can wait.” 

Before she could even open her mouth to argue, he pulled her softly towards the railing before raising a brow in question, a smirk on his face. The second her head began to nod, he leapt over the edge, taking her with him.

For the briefest of moments, she felt a pang of fear ice her veins at the familiar sensation of falling into darkness, Percy’s grip in her own. But this wasn’t a pit leading to Tartarus filled with suffocating acidic air, it was a fresh salty breeze; and it wasn’t the Styx they collided with, it was ocean water, warmed by Percy’s touch. Yes the water surrounding them as they tread atop it was dark and seemingly bottomless, but as Annabeth looked over to Percy whose face was glowing as it reflected the setting sun, she was not afraid. 

“Beautiful isn’t it,” he said, nodding to the rippling waves that spanned endlessly in all directions. 

Annabeth nodded back, still looking at her boyfriend, her soulmate, her heart. “Gorgeous.”

Catching the pure love in her voice, Percy turned to her, the only sound between them was that of the water breaking beneath their pulsating hands that weren’t doing much since Percy was basically suspending them in the water so they wouldn’t tire while treading. Annabeth smiled at the blush that spread across his cheeks. She’d never get over it, the feeling that they were falling in love everyday, that everytime she feared that maybe they would drift apart, their bond only grew stronger. 

She reached out to touch the pink tint along the angles of his face, and he closed his eyes, breathing deeply, soaking in the moment. But then he opened them, beaming like a child.

“Come on, the show’s about to start.”

Tilting her head in question, she was able to get out a “what?” before he willed them lower into the depths. She took a breath as her head submerged but in less than a heartbeat, an air bubble formed around them, allowing her to release the air trapped in her cheeks. Percy willed it deeper and deeper, the darkness so thick she could no longer see him, only feel his hand clamp around hers to let her know he was still here, was still beside her. 

Finally she felt the bubble stop, felt him pull her close beside her as he wrapped an arm over her shoulders.

“Percy, what ar-,” she began, only for the words to die in her throat at the scene that twinkled to life before her. Eyes squinting as they adjusted to the sudden light, she was completely captivated by the spots and ribbons of light surrounding them from above and below.

“Last summer,” Percy whispered, feeling like he’d disturb the beauty they sat amongst if he spoke too loudly, “you told me you’d always wanted to see bioluminescence. I wanted to take you to Puerto Rico, they’re apparently known for having the best in the world, but with… you know… and now this war and everything else, I-”

“It’s perfect,” Annabeth interjected breathlessly. “It’s absolutely perfect .”

He smiled at that, all the worry and embarrassment draining from his face. She leaned against his chest and looked up into the galaxy of light reflecting off his eyes before he looked down at her with a smile so easy and carefree she couldn’t help but kiss it.

When they parted she placed a hand against his face, his eyes closing for a moment as he leaned into her touch.

“Thank you, Percy.”

He planted the softest of kisses on her brow before taking her chin in his calloused fingers that were impossibly gentle against her skin.

“Happy anniversary,” he whispered as he leaned in for another kiss.

She could have watched the ethereal creatures forever, but after what must have been a few hours tangled in each other’s embrace, sharing kisses and whispering sweet nothings to one another, reason began to poke at her mind, the others would get worried if they were gone too long and they had a lot of work to do tomorrow. As much as it strained her heart and soul, it was time for bed.

Percy rose their bubble back to the surface at her request and delivered them onto the deck, careful to rid their clothes and bodies of any water. And together, hand in hand, they walked slowly to the staircase that would lead them to their room as if nothing was wrong with the world. And as Annabeth looked up at her boyfriend who was so much more— his eyes glimmering in the moonlight as they met hers with a smile— she felt completely at peace. And as he squeezed her hand gently, she knew. As long as they were together, there was nothing they couldn’t survive. 

Rough earth and shards of stone dig into Percy’s hand as he struggles to hold onto the failing ledge, the other weighing him down as it clasps tightly around his universe. 

“Let go, Percy. It’s alright, I’ll be okay, please just let me go.”

Percy drowns out her words, focusing only on the pain in her voice. He grits his teeth and lets out a feral cry as his fingers slip another millimeter. There are shouts above him but they’re too far away, and too busy securing the Parthenos.

"Come now, child of Athena. Let the world see what he will become without you. ”

Arachne’s words rise from impossible depths, from a darkness he can’t see. He tries with everything he has to lift himself higher, to get Annabeth further away from the bottomless pit but as he readjusts, Annabeth’s web covered ankle is jerked violently.

She lets out a cry and faster than he can react, she lets her palm slip through his grip, refusing to drag him down with her.

“ANNABETH!”

Percy watches her descend, and in a split second the darkness envelops her. She’s gone. Just as he lifts his fingers to fall after her, strong hands grab him, pulling him back to safety as he thrashes with feral desperation.

Jason and Nico move between him and the ledge, raising their hands as they try to reason with the demigod crouching against the stone, chest heaving.

“Stop it Percy! You can’t go after her!”

Percy whips his head to Nico, “Like hell I can’t!”

Percy’s shoulders hunch, eyes gleaming like a predator and he knows he’s using Lupa’s wolf stare because they both take a step back, reaching for their blades.

“Move,” he whispers with the strength of a death threat.

Jason takes back the step he’d yielded and looks Percy dead in the face. “No. we can’t lose you too, Percy.”

But he isn’t listening, can hear nothing but the unsheathing of their blades. He draws Riptide.

“Put it down, Percy.”

“We don’t want to hurt y-”

Jason’s words are cut off by Percy’s blade, he moves so fast all Jason can do is throw a hand out. Percy begins to choke, air being ripped from his lungs. Riptide— millimeters from Jason’s jugular— clatters to the ground. Jason releases his hold with a gasp, mortified by what he’d done.

“Oh my gods, Percy I’m- I don’t know how I did that… I’m so sor-”

In his hesitation, Percy lunges again and this time, chains of shadows wrap around his limbs, dragging him to the ground. Percy growls, fighting against the restraints as his bones begin to ache. He loses all control of his legs as they scream from the pressure, causing him to collapse. Despite the agony erupting from his limbs and the dark spots clouding his vision, he thrashes on the ground until Nico relinquishes.

Percy rises, something dangerous in his voice, “So that’s how it’s gonna be?”

Nico raises his Stygian sword, leveling it to Percy’s chest, Jason doing the same. “We won’t let you do this. We’re trying to protect you.”

At that, Percy closes Riptide, placing the sacred blade gently in his pocket to raise both hands slowly in surrender. Jason and Nico look at each other in confusion before advancing in tandem. When they are but two strides away, the look of defeat on Percy’s face warps into a lethal smile as his raised hands lower, fingers contorting in a way reminiscent of claws.

He backs up, moving closer towards the ledge. And when Jason goes for the air in his lungs again in a desperate last attempt to save his friend from the worst fate imaginable, Percy drops him to his knees. The son of Jupiter freezes as if made of ice.

“What have you done…” Nico asks breathlessly, taking in the sight with wide eyes.

Percy continues taking slow steps backward, keeping an eye on both demigods, but when he glances back to Nico the demigod has vanished. Sensing something behind him, Percy spins only to go ramrod straight at an even sharper sensation— that of a Stygian blade pressing against his throat, directly above the beads of his camp necklace.

“Do it,” Percy seethes through bared teeth.

Nico narrows his eyes, the darkness in the son of Hades’ eyes rivaling Percy’s in a way that looks more than just haunted. “You don’t want to see what’s down there, trust me.”

Without warning, Percy lets his bodyweight take over, dropping towards the ground and away from the nightmarish weapon as he quickly reaches into his pocket, draws Riptide and slashes towards Nico’s legs. But before he completes the arc, his target disappears. Now on his knees, Percy’s back goes straight once more, Riptide clattering and hands raising in defeat at the familiar sensation against his jugular.

From behind him, Nico’s voice is void of any spark of light as it drifts down to him. “She’s gone, Percy. I felt her pass.”

Percy bows his head as much as the blade against his neck will allow, the words striking him in a way that would’ve brought him to his knees had they not already been dug into the ground. After a moment of breathing through the sharp pain he lifts his gaze, turning to glance at Nico, a strange gleam in his eye.

Lifting his hands, Nico freezes. Percy moves from beneath the blade and walks to the edge, turning around to see both demigods frozen, eyes wide, jaws grinding as they try to speak.

He can feel the pulses of their blood with his power, feel its steady flow thrash as he restrains it. Percy reads the terror etched across their faces— this is a power not meant for the surface— and he agrees.

So he turns, and without a single goodbye, jumps into the pit of eternal darkness.

******

Percy jolted awake, vaulting from his bed only to collapse against what felt like a wooden floor. He felt hands on him and raised both hands in defense, causing the grip to freeze. Opening his eyes with squinted eyes and confusion, the nightmare cleared. And at the sight before him, he dropped his hold with a shocked cry, unbridled horror widening his eyes.

Annabeth sputtered, coughing as crimson began to trickle from her nose. Never in his life had Percy wished for death more than in that moment.

what have I done what have I done whathaveI-

This time when strong arms pulled him close, he did not raise his hands, he did not fight. He melted in her arms, savoring the beating of her heart as she ran fingers through his sweat drenched hair.

“I-I’m sorry, Annabeth I- I am so- I’m sorry…”

“Shhhh,” she soothed despite the fear in her core, the trembling in her breath. “It’s alright Percy, you were having a nightmare. That’s all. You’re okay, I’m right here. I’m right here.”

And as he drifted back to sleep against her, Annabeth leaned against the gently swaying walls of the ship, one hand smoothing out his wild locks as she lifted the other to wipe at her nose.

The back of her hand came away with a streak of red. She couldn’t look away, even when her vision grew watery.

A omen from the Fates.

The beginning of the end.

Chapter Text

Do you hearrrrrr that…….

…… Tartarusssss……

……….it callssss for you…… 

...do youuu hearrr ittttt…..

The Fates’ words repeated over and over, ringing like a death knell against his skull, slithering through his head like Medusa’s snakes. Long after departing their sheep farm in the mortal realm, it hadn't so much as dulled. Even now, as he stepped out onto one of the many palace overlooks. Polished marble beneath his feet once more, rather than the dirt and filth of the mortal lands, he released a sigh. This particular balcony, anchored to the largest, most impressive cliff on Olympus, had long been one of his most cherished spots. 

He glanced past the embossed railing to the sea of clouds sprawling below, nymphs hard at work perfecting each one to meet his stringent criteria. Their pale flesh glistened in the light of day, sheer attire clinging to every inch of their sweat soaked bodies. It had been some time since he'd bed one of their kind, preferring the less labor-inclined slaves for their softer hands and ample figures. With the slightest flick of his ring adorned finger, a cloud skittered away, and one of the nymphs leapt, muscles flexing with the effort to catch it. The Fate's droning chants went quiet for a beat. Perhaps it would be worthwhile to reassess a few preferences.

With an easy smile, Zeus took his time making his way to the private end of the overhang, nodding to the lesser gods and goddesses who occupied the golden sun chairs. They reclined in the open air, talking about everything and nothing to one another. Senseless chatter. It grated in his ears.

As he continued on, no longer squinting in the sunlight— he’d gotten Apollo to dim its radiance after too much back and forth for a king to bear— another voice wedged into his subconscious, drowning out that of the Fates’ and gods. 

Your throne, you continue to endanger it’s sanctity with every passing day. 

I have had visions, ones that show a crumbled throne and crown of ash. You grow weak, these peasants have forgotten who their king is. 

It is only a matter of time before one rises up to challenge you.

Will you let them?

Hera's drivel from several nights ago was still clear as day in his mind, the anger that had seeped through the fissures in her mask of pride and coldness just as clear a memory. He knew she would be furious at him for going to see the Fates without informing her, knew she would berate him for going about this his own way. But before he was her husband, he was the God-King. Her king. And as such, needed neither her approval nor her opinions of grandeur.

The throne was his alone, and he was fully capable of protecting it on his own. 

The thought sent a beam of confidence through his chest and, puffing it out with squared shoulders and head held high, Zeus rounded the corner to see two sun chairs. Gold, same as all the rest, except these were adorned with thousands of gemstones that sparkled in the light. Positioned far from all the others, the glorious seats held another exception. One that looked up, the corners of their eyes crinkling above an affable smile.

“Ah, there you are. I feared you might have gotten lost.”

Zeus nodded in greeting, gesturing to a row of nymphs who’d been standing at the ready, backs straight and pressed against the side of the palace. They sprung into action on nimble heels, some rushing inside to gather refreshments while others grabbed large leaves to fan the two gods once Zeus had sprawled out onto the remaining chair.

“Is something the matter?” Poseidon asked. “I must admit, it was quite a surprise to receive your summons this morning.”

Not meeting those irises of sea foam, Zeus let out a deep, rumbling laugh. “Does something need to be the matter for me to ask you to share a drink with me?”

He glanced over to see Poseidon shake his head, the concern on his brow easing and before the sea god could inquire more, Zeus asked how things were below the water. He feigned interest as Poseidon regaled the travesties of his palace’s renovations, and a small battle with Bythos and his Ichthyocentaurs. The informal report ended with assurance that he'd put the deities back in their place and regained order in Zeus' name.

As the sun began it's decent, a nymph appeared at his side extending her slender arm to present a chalice of nectar, head bowed, fabrics drooping. He took the drink with a wink towards the exposed flesh, sending the blushing girl away. Poseidon rolled his eyes at the exchange in silence, only shaking his head when she offered a chalice to him as well.

“Your boy,” Zeus drawled nonchalantly after taking a deep sip, “he grows stronger with every solstice.”

The corner of Poseidon's mouth twitched and he nodded slightly, voice impartial though laced with pride. “Yes, he certainly does.”

“Some might say too strong.”

The wind shifted. Enveloping them in an invisible barrier. The sounds of gods and nymphs vanished, unworthy of penetrating Zeus' power. 

Poseidon cleared his throat, the noise echoing faintly. “What do you mean by that, brother?”

Zeus swallowed a look of disdain. Yes, they were brothers by ichor, but above all Zeus was Poseidon's king. Another long drink eased the simmering rage. The air wrapped around them thickened.

“I spoke with the Fates yesterday. They called my attention to something.”

The pearls and silver thread woven into Poseidon's shirt caught the fleeing light of the sun as he turned. 

“A cycle has been at play ever since Chaos first created existence: the constant evolution of power. A succession." He twisted the stem of his chalice, rotating it atop his thigh. "Kronos sensed my... our potential strength, how it threatened to surpass his own, and devoured us. It would have meant the end of the cycle, but I defeated him. I killed Kronos, who killed Uranus, who killed..."

Wind whistled in his ear, a thrum he felt in his veins. Poseidon shifted in his seat, the slight motion unsteady.

"Who in this era will act as I did?"

A weary chuckle sounded from beside Zeus. "This is why we never visit the Fates, brother. All they do is fill one with paranoia. You exceed the realm of mortals and gods alike, you—"

"Our children," Zeus continues sharply, "children of the 'Big Three'... we know very little of their capabilities, of what they might become. None have survived long enough to display power beyond their peers. Until this generation."

Like a butterfly pinned to a board, Poseidon froze beneath his piercing gaze. Zeus felt the breath leave tremoring lungs.

“Your Majesty," Poseidon started, hesitant. Strained. "Are you accusing my son of treason?”

“No, of course not! I was simply wondering your opinion on the matter,” he assured smoothly with a bark of laughter. Taking another sip of nectar, he spoke over the chalice, voice echoing against the gold, “Pure curiosity.”

They fell into silence and Zeus let the idea fester as he lowered the barrier of wind. The distant chattering of lesser beings returned. Zeus called over the drinks nymph, giving her his empty glass then beckoned her to bend closer. After securing activity for the night, he waved the wide eyed nymph away and turned back to the sea god who was gazing off into the distance.

The sky bled orange and red, the first glimpse of stars twinkling faintly.

“What about that child of Hades?” Zeus mused aloud, dragging Poseidon from his thoughts. 

“The daughter? I can't recall her name."

“No,” Zeus scuffed. “Her experience and abilities are nothing compared to the boy. Besides, she is of Pluto.”

“The di Angelo boy? Nico, isn’t it? No, I have met him before, he is of kind heart and I would wage braver than any descendant of yours,” he let out a chime of laughter, breathless and a bit hysteric. Then, like a changing tide, his features sobered into something warmer, softer. “The few times he’s had them, Hades' children are always so strong… though they do seem to die earlier than most. Tragic, really.” 

Zeus considered Poseidon's words.

After meeting with the Fates, he had set to work narrowing down who the possible traitor could be, which demigod was both strong and brave enough to challenge a king. Due to the factor of strength, the list was rather short, and eventually he narrowed it down to three.

Jason Grace was strong for his kind, though technically not his son and definitely not a Greek. The second, Perseus Jackson… that boy was a wild card. 

Zeus had been observing him ever since learning of the child’s existence, and he never managed to predict what the son of Poseidon would do. But, despite knowing Perseus harbored public disdain for Hera— understandably so— Zeus also knew the boy had a fatal flaw of loyalty; and after hearing Poseidon and various Olympians who he’d asked earlier in the day, it was clear that Percy was no threat to his crown.

All who Zeus spoke to had described their encounters with the demigod, enamored by the boy's humor and wit. None spoke of anything that alerted signs of treason. But Hades’ boy…

Nico di Angelo.

There, was a creature shrouded in mystery. There, was a boy that made Poseidon's eyes flicker with awe for his power and bravery. There, was a demigod who had trekked through Tartarus alone and survived. 

The chalice in his hand grew cold, biting at his lip. He side-eyed Poseidon over the rim, working hard to conceal the rising excitement of it all. He’d found his target. 

“That boy has endured much, would it be inconceivable to fathom his turning?”

Poseidon leaned back in consideration. He’d met the son of Hades only a handful of times, but Percy had prayed for him enough that Poseidon felt as though he knew him well enough. And from what his own son had said, Nico had a purer heart and deeper soul than should be possible. The sea god shook his head firmly and spoke with confidence.

“Nico di Angelo is not a threat. Earlier you said 'era', perhaps this is not the generation to concern yourself with, brother. Don't let the Fates wind you into knots."

Tartarus calls for you...

As he rose, Zeus forced a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, but Poseidon was too lost in his own thoughts to notice.

“A wonderful chat, but I must be going now. Important business to attend to.”

Poseidon nodded respectfully and turned back to the sea of clouds, his face half-shrouded in the shadow of the palace behind him as he thought about his son for the first time in months.

As the God-King turned, his facade fell, smile turning to that of stone. Mouth set into a hard line, he made his way back into the palace; not waving or nodding to the others. Not bothering to acknowledge their existence. His narrowed eyes were set in a level glare as he stepped into the refreshing coolness of the palace atrium.  

Important business indeed. 

If the di Angelo boy was the one least assumed to be dangerous, least capable of going rogue, then it was he who Zeus would need to invoke in order to prove to the others that children of the Big Three must be relieved of their powers.

Because, if Nico was purist of their kin, then if he snapped and showed the true devastating potential that Zeus just knew lay in wait, then there would be no room for argument or criticism from the other gods. He would smother the revolution before it had a chance to begin. He would break the cycle he unknowingly protected all those years ago.

Once all of Olympus was confronted with the horrifying reality capable by a demigod, he could easily reinforce the rule against he or his brethren from having children with mortals. And without demigods more powerful than the rest... Zeus would reign forever.

The Eternal God-King.

They had gotten accustomed to a routine, Reyna and Nico. A method of preparation for the next jump so that when they awoke in the morning, they could depart immediately; never staying in one place for longer than absolutely necessary for fear of attracting any monsters or, as currently, any more Romans looking for them following the recent incident. 

After landing, they would bathe if a water source was nearby, start a fire, then eat whatever Reyna could prepare from her carefully planned out ration packets; after which Nico would clean up while she examined the harnesses for any minor repairs. Once the food waste had been disposed of (or fed to the hounds who’d beg), they would switch places and he’d double check the rigging as she took stock of her backpack. As she did so, he’d pull out the sleeping bags, arranging them the same way each time (one on either side of the modest fire pit) and then they’d make some silent gesture of who would take the first watch shift while the other tried to sleep.

It was more comforting than Reyna cared to acknowledge, this routine. The repetitiveness gave her something to cling to as the days dragged on, keeping sanity and peace of mind in check despite the nature of their mission. Made it feel like they were able to control at least some of their reality. It was due to this growing reliance that Reyna noticed, in the midst of said routine, that Nico's tasks were taking longer than usual. 

She glanced up from her backpack, making a mental note of the count she’d had on the ration packets in her hand, and saw he wasn’t using his injured arm to unroll the sleeping bags, and that the white bandage was splotched with specks of deep maroon. And although she’d had a question on her tongue since landing in the dense Roman forest— about why he’d been so taken aback when she’d told him about how her ability worked, why he’d been more distant than usual ever since— she cleared her throat, breaking their unspoken vow of silence to mention something else.  

“You should be taking it easy, Nico.”

“I’m fine,” he muttered out of habit, it was a reflex at this point; as much a part of their daily ritual as starting the fire or checking the harnesses leather straps. Head resting atop his crossed paws as if he owned the forest, Argentum growled at the lie.

“You’re bleeding.”

Nico’s hands stilled and looked over with confusion before following her line of sight. The stains barely snagged his interest before going back to work with a stiff shrug. “Oh, didn’t notice.”

Brow furrowing, she set down the ration packets. “How? Doesn’t it hurt?”

“Hasn’t exactly stopped hurting," came his flat reply.

He felt her eyes boring into him but didn’t meet them again.

”Want me to take a look at it? Replace the bandages?”

When he remained silent, she shook her head, exasperated. She figured she’d have gotten used to this by now. “Fine. But, I get first watch. You’ve done enough today.”

He parted his lips to object, but at the stern look she leveled his way— almost colder than the one she’d pinned Bryce with— Nico thought better of it. He obeyed, but not without glowering with disdain as he pulled the sleeping bag over his chest, grinding his teeth at the sensation of his muscles relaxing in the prone position, tension lessening enough that his lids began to slide shut.

But then he forced them open, tilting his head with a grimace as his bandaged arm pressed against the taught fabric of his sleeping bag. Nico projected his voice across the small flames.

“Can you wake me up in four hours?”

Reyna hated nothing more than to agree to such conditions, but after last time… she nodded with firm assurance. “Four hours.” And made a point of setting the alarm on her watch.

Depthless eyes watched her every movement, then he rested his head against the pillow once more, gazing up to the stars above him. Reyna thought she heard him say something … ‘Bob says hello’ ...? But when she turned to ask, his eyes were closed, breathes already evening out as his limbs twitched ever so slightly.

Argentum sniffed at the bandage with his long silver snout before walking a tight circle and lowering himself elegantly to curl beside Nico with a toothy yawn.

*****

Nico let his mind wander, ensuring he hovered just above the surface of unconsciousness while being careful not to dip below it.

Amidst the careful balancing act, something other blinked awake.

Within the panes of his mindscape, he flinched away, fearing it was a night terror trying to drag him below the paper thin surface. A flash of warmth has him freeze, hesitating wearily. Cautiously, he reached out.

Because, rare as could be, this wasn’t a nightmare or a vision. It was a memory.

The first time he’d ever let down his walls.

For as long as he could remember, Nico had been cagey about his neck. He wasn’t sure when it had started, everything blended together— battle training, quests, wars, Tartarus… 

being choked and strangled with hands or blades by sparring partners or monsters was just a part of his life. Even so, he’d never managed to get used to it.

His instincts always went a little feral when it came to his neck, almost like a wolf, guarding its jugular at all costs.

Maybe it was the symbolism of it all. That no matter where he was— trapped in a glass jar, navigating shadows, or Tartarus— as long as he felt a pulse there, he knew he was alive. And if he was alive, then he had to keep going.

Over the years this dependency resulted in heightened sensitivity. Discomfort flared at the slightest touch, even the collar of his jacket or the length of his hair was sometimes too much. 

It was one of the reasons he despised hugs, and why it had taken painstaking practice just to even bare wearing his camp necklace— even still he had to make sure it was loose enough so that the large beads wouldn’t press or squeeze.

But Nico could still remember that night when he and Will were kissing and it began to escalate.

On the night of his 18th birthday, Will had snuck past the harpies and Chiron’s night patrol, quickly closing the door behind him. Nico could hear the door close as he turned the corner to see Will running for him.

The instant they collided, Will lifted up on his toes, hands sliding under the black fabric of Nico’s shirt to run his warm palms against the corded muscles beneath. At the same time, Nico placed a firm hand on each of Will’s shoulders, drawing him closer. Nico couldn’t get enough but neither could Will. Usually they’d make out then pull apart just as they neared that edge that both were too scared to cross, then watch a movie or chat and go to bed.

But not that night.

Nico deepened the kiss, nipping at Will’s lip which elicited a surprised moan from the shorter demigod.

Nico had never told Will about it before— the aversion to his neck— because what they had was so good, intoxicating even, and even though they were now both adults Nico was terrified that if he showed Will all of him, every damaged part, that he’d run. That Will would finally realize the monster Nico truly was. Nothing more than the death and darkness he wielded.

But those thoughts, any fear he’d ever had about Will getting past his final walls, began to quiet as they got rougher, lust and desire sending them both over the edge.

Somehow they’d made it to the bed, sheets of midnight fabric cool against the swelling heat and Will broke their locked lips as their bodies continued to move against each other. He pulled Nico lower until even their chests were touching, and tilted his head to move along his pale cheekbone, down that razor sharp jawline, until he was almost over the side of Nico’s neck.

The moment Will’s warm breath registered, a jolt of electricity shot through Nico’s core like a spark and his entire body stilled above Will. Muscles locked, marrow frozen solid.

Will immediately pulled back, pushing his head against the pillow beneath him, to see something like fear glint in Nico’s eyes. They were both gleaming with sweat, lust thickly sweet in the air between them. The room was silent save for their labored panting and soft ripple of the small pond on the other side of the room. 

Will’s body ached for Nico to the point of agony, but if Nico had even the slightest hesitation, Will would stop everything and swallow his desire despite the throbbing ache that demanded more. Nico closed his eyes, a muscle in his jaw twitching as he drew in a staggered breath through his nose, trying to tame that ridiculously savage instinct he’d been born with and had only been heightened by his dark life.

The three deep breaths felt like a lifetime and Will started to lean out from under him, moving his legs to get off the bed. 

“Sorry, I went too far,” a smile on his lips despite the seriousness in his voice, “we can stop. Want me to go pick out a movie?”

No

Nico was done being controlled by his trauma. It had stolen everything from him— his ability to sleep, his mental health, his family— it would not cost him this relationship. He refused to let Will be a victim too. He wanted this. He could do this. 

Wills body heat had receded as he pulled away, but Nico put a hand on his arm, amazed by the smoothness and warmth radiating from it. He took a moment to marvel at the stark contrast of his own scarred and calloused pale hand atop Will’s sun kissed tan skin. Will looked at him, a question in his eyes, fully prepared to stop which calmed Nico’s racing heart. He could always find peace in those blazing orbs. Gazing deep into them, he gave the slightest of nods.

“Are you sure?”

Nico nodded again to which Will responded with a playful smirk. “I’m gonna need that in words, shadow.”

Nico let a growl creep into his voice that he knew always drove Will a little wild.

“Do your worst.”

And he had. Oh, he had. For that night, Nico learned never to challenge a Solace. Learned that darkness was no match for his sun. Decimating every wall, letting them all down for Will to explore, Nico had never felt so exposed in his entire life.

Passion wasn’t a strong enough word to describe what happened in the Hades cabin that night. The night that Will claimed Nico in every way possible; claimed Nico as his own. Never before had they gone so far, stripped each other so bare of facades or reinforced walls, worries or fears to let each other see exactly who and what they were.

Nico had always thought of himself as the more dominant and aggressive one, that Will was the light and warmth and softness, but that night Nico met a side of Will he doubted anyone else had ever witnessed.

Despite the dark shadows and fog that seeped from Nico like a cloudy aura and the yellow glow radiating from within Will’s skin, illuminating the shadows hovering around Nico like a candle in the dark, it was Will who proved to be the darker and rougher of the two. So much so that when they’d woken up the next morning, Nico had gone to the sink— stumbling on weak legs and an ache that spread throughout every joint and muscle— to wash the sweat from his face only to yelp at his reflection.

Colorful bruises artistically placed between the worst of his scars adorned his pale skin. Around his neck like a collar, down his chest, along his rib cage and down further; disappearing beneath the waistline of the boxers he’d slid on before getting up. He turned around, looking over his shoulder to see scratch marks, lines spanning each shoulder to just above the base of his spine. All of the marks were raised, skin an angry red, some of which were slightly ripped and had clotted with specks of dried blood.

Nico walked back to the bedroom slowly, face incredulous. Because Will had not a single scratch on him nor a solitary bruise or hickey; although his fingers were stained with evidence of what he’d done to Nico’s back. Other than that, the only evidence of the night was a radiant glow still thrumming beneath his tan skin. Despite the damage he felt now, Nico couldn’t remember feeling any pain from the night though, only the euphoria of having his neck, his body, his heart and soul so exposed.

Will blinked the sleep from his eyes before gazing up at his masterpiece. “Maybe you should take today off from training… and take a visit to the medbay, doctors orders.”

Nico groaned, surprised at the hoarseness of his throat but then recalled with flushed cheeks more than a few screams he’d let out last night. “I completely forgot, I promised Percy I’d do a sparring demo with him for one of his combat classes this morning.” 

He looked at the clock, breath catching in his throat, “Styx, I gotta be there in twenty minutes.”

Will leaned back onto the pillows, hands behind his head. Nico felt Will look him up and down ravenously, voice dripping with desire. “Okay, have fun. Be sure to stop by the medbay though. Or… I could give you a once over right now.”

Nico opened his mouth to say he needed to go, but looked at the clock then back at Will who splayed his body dramatically, onyx sheets contrasting against the glow. Nico made an executive decision.

“Ten minutes.”

Will chimed with laughter, a sound so beautiful that Nico was drunk with it as he leapt back into bed. And once the thorough ‘examination’ was over, Will nodded towards his bag strewn on the floor by their ripped clothes. “Hey, I’ve got some ambrosia if you want it.”

But Nico set his face in mock offense. “And erase all your hard work? Never.”

Nico’s memory shifted and suddenly he was reliving that painful sparring session with Percy when it had been so hot out that he’d momentarily forgotten about the damage and removed his shirt moments after Percy did. Reliving the embarrassment but also something like pride when Percy and the other demigods all froze, falling silent at the sight. Percy stammered, unable to get words out through his massive grin and somewhere by the water cooler Piper spit out the contents of her cup. And just as Will came into view— waltzing up to Nico before planting a slow drawn out kiss on Nico’s cheek on his way to the medbay— Nico woke up.

His lashes fluttered open and he laid in his sleeping bag gazing up at the trees above him. It took a few moments to realize that he was awake, and the moment it hit him, his entire body froze. Because never, not since the day Bianca died, had he simply “woken up”. No, he screamed himself conscious. And he didn’t dream, he had night terrors.

Something was wrong. Something was wrong.  

Still unconscious… he had to still be under— that was it. The ground would open any minute now and he’d plummet to Tartarus. Or maybe the Fury’s would fall from the sky to carry him away in their talons to be tortured by Bryce Lawrence or one of his more regular abusers.

He leapt from the sleeping bag, clutching the stained bandages constricting the throbbing stab wound as his eyes went round and heart began to race uncontrollably because this was wrong.

Reyna heard the commotion and checked her watch. There was still a half hour before she was supposed to wake him. She inched closer hesitantly.

“Nico?”

“I-I…” but he couldn’t put words to it, that sense of dread, of inevitable doom. 

“You’re alright, everything’s alright. We’re in Rome, remember?”

But he couldn’t hear her over the pounding of his own heart, couldn’t see her as he frantically looked around, trying to anticipate the terror before it got him. In his spinning, he saw the glint of something shiny in his eye and fell towards it.

He knelt before it on trembling legs, one hand clasped around the thick bandage. “My name is Reyna.” 

Reyna’s forehead creased with utter confusion but she closed her slightly gaping jaw when Nico leaned closer to Argentum with enough desperation to silence her. The silver hound’s growl filled the forest air.

“I’m still unconscious.”

He sat before the hound as if in prayer, and when Argentum growled again, he looked like he might collapse; the hand around his wound growing white with pressure. 

“I’m awake right now.”

He stared into Argentum’s gemstone eyes for a solid minute before pulling his head into both hands and drawing in on himself more and more with each passing second. And when Argentum didn’t growl, but licked the backs of Nico’s hands instead, Reyna swore she heard a sob.

“Nico?” She tried wearily.

The son of Hades tore his hands from his face, sheer terror written in every line of his face as he stared at Reyna and whispered more to himself than her, “I-it was… a dream.”

Her posture straightened, relaxing but not entirely at the potent uneasiness in his voice. She clearly wasn’t following so he shook his head, needing her to understand.

“A dream, Reyna.” 

Realization dawned on her face as the significance of his strained words became clear. It’s just that she’d gotten so used to him waking up screaming and coated in sweat that it had become just as much a part of her routine as counting the ration packets before bed. Being woken up by his thrashing or muffled screams, go to his side and calmly remind him who he was and where they were. It caused her stomach to do somersaults, the idea that his night terrors had become just another task in her day.

Confusion lifting, she tried to be hopeful— after all weren’t they long overdue for a win— but she couldn’t shake the levity with which his crazed eyes bore into her. She cleared her throat as Argentum bounded for Aurum to play.

“What does that mean?”

He ran a shaking hand through his untamed locks of raven hair.

“I don't know.”

Chapter Text

“Gods, I’m never gonna get this done,” Leo muttered under his breath. He was working on repairs around the ship this morning and the first task of the day had brought him to the Quarterdeck. The rutter’s mechanics were busted and could use a tune up. Only problem being they were currently sailing in the ocean, he couldn’t breathe under water, and he was pretty sure there were sharks beneath them… okay so maybe three problems. He shook his head at the schematic in his hands that were coated in a thick layer of grease and chided himself, “think, Leo, think…”

He looked around the deck as he thought. Piper threw a quick wave as she ran past him for the third time as she did her daily exercise, Frank was practicing shifting mid-air (which really was a sight to see), Jason was busy spotting Frank in his various forms to make sure he didn’t plummet to the wooden planks mid-shift, and from the staircase leading below deck, Percy emerged, squinting at the rising sun.

“Ah!” Leo yelled, pointing wildly towards Percy, causing the son of Poseidon to jolt from across the deck  “You can breathe underwater!”

Percy walked over with a smirk, “Yeah, last time I checked.”

Despite the lightheartedness, Leo stopped the tangent he’d been about to go off on about the damaged mechanics that were currently submerged several feet underwater, the words catching in his throat at the dark circles under his friend’s eyes. He’d heard some noise coming from Annabeth’s room late last night, but had dismissed it when he’d remembered Piper mentioning it was their anniversary. But even Leo could tell that the dark circles weren’t from losing sleep to any sort of… fun activities. No, the son of Poseidon looked slightly rattled. And yeah he’d had a slight shadow in his eye ever since coming back from Tartarus, but Leo couldn’t shake the feeling that this was different.

“You good?” Leo asked when he’d gotten closer.

But Percy just gave one of those disarming smiles with a wink, “Always.” Before Leo could decide if he should press or not, Percy flicked his chin to the dirtied papers in the machinist’s hands. “So what’s up?”

“Well,” Leo started, switching into engineer mode, and moved closer beside him to show the schematics, “there’s an issue with the…” Leo trailed off, because as he’d moved closer, Percy had receded. Leo had no issue with personal space, but he knew some people did so he’d made a mental list— the top of which held a dual spot belonging to Nico and Clarisse.

It was a list Percy definitely wasn’t on.

In fact, the demigod was known for being almost motherly, going room to room on hard days to comfort everyone or just give out signature bear hugs. All that to say, when Percy took those two steps back— too subtle for anyone who didn’t know him to be alarmed by— Leo raised his brow.

“Uh… dude, you sure you’re okay?”

“Huh?” The corner of Percy’s mouth fell a fraction of an inch but rose with his shoulders as he shrugged, “Oh, yeah, sorry.”

“Righhht,” Leo said unconvinced, but at the discomfort radiating from Percy as his hands clenched and unclenched, Leo decided to drop it. He took a breath and tried again, this time explaining the whole situation. Calmness washed over him as he spoke in terms of gears and bolts and tools, this was his language. So much in his life he couldn’t control or fix, and being able to solve complex puzzles or make repairs that worked his mind yet were possible to be solved with some duct tape and scraps of metal made him whole. Not to mention taking his mind off of the dangerous stops they were on their way to, the looming battle, and worries for Nico and Reyna who were gods know where. And Leo was glad he could use it to help Percy too, who looked like he could really use a distraction from whatever was clearly plaguing his mind and making him fidget more than usual for the demigod.

Leo had dedicated the entirety of his morning to making this single repair, but right when he’d finished explaining everything, Percy had leapt over the railing and returned to the deck without a drop of water or shortness to his breath; all in what had to be fifteen minutes. And it had seemed to help, because Leo noticed a clarity to Percy’s eyes that hadn’t been there before which made him wonder why Percy didn’t just live in the water if it made him feel so much better. The answer to his question emerged from below deck, meeting Percy’s eyes to say something in that unspoken language of theirs before striding towards a quiet part of the ship.

Percy watched Annabeth disappear behind the center structure that split down the center of the Argo II, breaking the deck into two sides. He tore his eyes away and smiled at Leo, complex mix of emotions there a moment ago were gone in a flash.

“Need anything else?”

Leo shook his head, “Nah, I really appreciate the help.”

With a clap on Leo’s shoulder, Percy dipped his head already starting off in Annabeth’s direction, “No problem, see you for lunch?”

“Yeah, for sure.” Leo nodded, then added with a yell, “Tell Annabeth I said mornin’!”

When Percy’d disappeared after her with a half salute behind him, Leo reached into his bottomless toolbelt and with a little willpower removed his hand, another piece of paper between in his grasp. Reaching in again, he fetched a pen and proceeded to cross off the first task from his to-do list with a smile. There was no need for a physical list, not when Festus could just remind him if he forgot, but there was just something so satisfying about striking a line through a chore that made him want to sing. 

Saving everyone’s ears from that, he gingerly put both items back and set off for Festus. Ever since Piper had awakened him with her charmspeak— seriously, that girl made his mind explode sometimes… if she could control machines and people… he tried to stay on her good side— the golden dragon hadn’t needed much maintenance, but he still liked to give the intricate innerworkings a check every few days along with a few spritzes of oil for the joints.

Having selected the right side of the center partition of the ship to give Percy and Annabeth some privacy, Leo craned his neck to the sky, shouting up to Frank and Jason as he passed by, “Hope you’re not afraid of heights!”

The distraction made Frank, who was in fact afraid of heights, look down. Leo’d never seen a bird lurch so quickly, and Jason quickly reached out with his power, catching the bald eagle with a pocket of air before it could hit the deck.

“Leo!” Jason scolded from above, but even he couldn’t conceal the small chime of laughter that had slipped out.

The son of Hephaestus merely tilted his head like a cowboy and shouted behind him as he continued strutting across the planks, “I find that offensive by the way! A Canadian bald eagle, you trying to start World War Three or something?!”

This time Jason let out a burst of laughter and held Frank back with streams of wind from showing what a Canadian eagle could do. Leo turned so he was walking backwards for a few strides, long enough to salute the strange sight that was nothing more than a Tuesday aboard the Argo II.

All the chaotic energy was lost behind him as he finally reached the front of the ship. Festus gleamed from the fresh polish Piper had buffed him with last night after needing a distraction from her own anxieties just as he was doing today. But Leo paused at the sight of brown curly hair with gold strands glinting in the sun that rivaled the dragon beside her. Back to him, he neared slowly, coming around beside her with silent feet almost afraid to disturb the serenity. If he didn’t know that she was transfixed on the horizon for the sake of her seasickness, Leo would’ve thought her squinted expression was that of longing… searching for answers he knew the horizon couldn’t provide.

With nothing but the soft breeze and distant encouragement from Jason between them, a voice floated into Leo’s head.

“Hey, Leo? You’ll… you’ll watch after Hazel, right? Not that she needs protecting or anything, but I just… gods I don’t even know what I’m asking”

Leo felt the corner of his lips tug at the memory of Nico di Angelo— arguably one of the most feared and terrifyingly awesome demigods at Camp— speak with such vulnerability as he’d asked.

Swallowing thickly past the surprising lump in his throat as his thoughts started to spiral into thinking of worst-case scenarios regarding the Praetor and shadow traveler's current whereabouts, Leo glanced to the demigod beside him.

“Penny for your thoughts?” He pulled a copper piece that vaguely resembled a penny from his toolbelt, flicking it with his thumb into the air before catching it. The smile, no matter how faded in comparison to her usual striking grin, made Leo feel like he’d won the lottery. 

An amused huff slipped through her slightly parted lips but remained locked on the horizon before her. If only everything was so unmoving, so steady, so constant. That line had brought her so much peace in the past few days; had reminded her that it was possible for such things to exist.

“I’ll be better when he’s back. When I can see him with my own eyes, not through mist or screens.” 

She obviously didn’t need to specify who she was talking about, and Will wished so fiercely that his heart ached that he could invent teleportation, just to see the pained expression never imprison her face again. But although skilled, he was not his father.

Leo felt her eyes on him, on the tight line he’d pressed his lips into, and her voice lightened, “But for now, I’m just glad to be surrounded with those I love.”

And with timing so good Leo would have to give him a gold star later, Frank let out a strangled screech through the bill of some type of exotic bird. They both looked behind a shoulder to see the creature tumble through the air, trying to get used to the strangely shaped wings. Turning back to each other, they burst into laughter so hard he had tears in his eyes by the time they’d recovered.

Hazel’s eyes crinkled as she returned to the horizon, a soft smile on her mouth. A smile that he watched droop as she bit her lower lip. 

“Will asked me to save my energy for when we reach Camp.”

Sensing there was more, he stayed silent as she pulled her lower lip beneath those pearl white teeth again. 

“That way I can shadow travel Nico and Reyna to safety— to the medbay— once they make the final jump. He thinks… he thinks they’ll be in pretty bad shape.”

Leo pursed his lips, “That’s a good idea, I hadn’t thought about it really. I mean what the guy’s doing is insane. If he makes it there-” Hazel whipped her head to him, eyes raging like rings of hellfire and he choked on his words as realization slapped him in the face at the mistake. “I was gonna say if he makes it sit there in time he’s probably gonna need to sleep for a solid week; they both will. Definitely won’t be up for fighting in this battle with us.”

“No,” she agreed, her fury simmering down as quickly as it had risen. “They’ll have done their part. The rest is up to us.”

Leo nodded, that sense of dread returning from what was still to come. How many of his friends and family would die before Echidna’s monsters were defeated? Because that’s what it was— what the prophecy had foretold… a slaughter. The word had sounded so much worse coming from the Oracle, her slithering way of speech that violated the mind and stuck there like a searing brand until it was fulfilled. 

A slaughter where blood would soak the earth and a great darkness would be unleashed.

They had all come to the sinking realization of what it meant as they’d deciphered the strange wording after hearing it for the first time. And as with any prophecy, they had all experienced a sense of looming dread upon figuring out what it foretold. She shook the thoughts from her head, curls bouncing gently around her like a helm with strands of gold.

“I wonder how Reyna’s doing with it all. I mean, Nico’s my brother and yet I’ve never spent as much time with him… and even though I have the ability to shadow travel, it still scares me.”

“Yeah I know what you mean,” Leo thought back to the one time she and Nico had transported them all. He shook at the memory, it had taken him days to recover from the sensation. But he swallowed it down and kept his voice strong, “That Roman is tough as nails, she’ll be alright. Plus, have you actually spoken to her?” Hazel shook her head. “Well she’s distant and stoic and has these massive biceps, kinda how I’d imagine a viking warrior queen…” an image flashed in his mind of Reyna wearing the pelt of some ferocious beast she’d slain instead of her signature cape and imperial gold “.... so I’m sure they’re getting along just fine.”

“I hope so.”

They drifted back into silence, too occupied by their own thoughts. But neither minded, just having the company was nice. A reminder that they weren’t alone.

******

Annabeth went slightly lightheaded as she flipped right side up after having bent over to gather her freshly washed hair into a high ponytail. Rising as she fastened an elastic she’d borrowed from Piper after having lost all of hers somehow, she saw Percy round the corner, coming towards her with a tenseness to his shoulders she hadn’t seen since Tartarus. When they’d been walking atop the primordial flesh of Tartarus’ body and had to stay constantly alert for anything and everything.

Without saying a word, he saw the question in her eyes. He stopped a safe distance away and glanced to the wooden partition blocking their view from the other side of the ship as he heard Leo shouting out to Frank and Jason… something about being offended and WWIII… and turned to Annabeth with an equally silent response.

Not here

She nodded with understanding and reached for his hand, her own damp from handling her soaking wet hair. And for the first time in all their time of being together, he hesitated before taking it. It was only a split second, but both watched as if in slow motion. She squeezed it tightly to prove she trusted him even when he didn’t, and led him back below deck. 

They stayed silent until reaching the galley kitchen, only offering each other weak smiles when Percy pulled the moisture from her hair, leaving it soft and completely dry. The kitchen space was small, but they’d luckily had little need for it ever since Piper had gotten the Cornucopia from her fight against Achelous. But last night, she’d asked Piper to leave her a spread of things for lunch, needing to do something structured; needed to organize. Even if it was just preparing a meal for them all; chopping the fruits herself, shaving the skin from the vegetables, and arranging platters by color and food group. 

Percy stood beside her, father than she’d like but she said nothing as he palmed the large knife she’d slid across the wooden countertop for him. Plopping a large watermelon before him, she admitted, “I’d do it but you can sense the rocking of the ship better, and I personally like having all my fingers intact.”

He laughed at that and they fell into a steady rhythm, filling a whole platter of watermelon slices and ripe blueberries before she asked, “You wanna talk about it?”

Percy became very interested in the carrots he was peeling, not meeting the gaze he felt as he shook his head once, “Not really.”

Disappointment and concern battled for dominance in her mind as she took in his reply. Since they’d been together, he’d never kept a dream from her; sometimes on nights it got really bad, they’d play a little game, competing over whose was worse… anything to keep laughter in the air and drown out the echoes of screaming. The only way to make the visions and nightmares less scary was to say them out loud and laugh off the fear together. To pick apart the insanity side by side. She knew the game always brought Percy some semblance of peace when she attacked some of his more disruptive nightmares with logic and intelligence, how she’d soothe his racing heart by stating statistical probabilities of whatever he’d seen actually happening. So she smirked at the sandwiches she was slicing into dainty sandwiches that she knew everyone would get a kick out of, and began.

“I dreamt that the bioluminescence all started singing ‘Under the Sea’ and your hair turned ginger. Don’t think you can beat that,” she challenged. Although she could tell his smile was more for her sake, she grinned back and nudged him with her shoulder. “You’re turn.”

Percy hadn’t been joking when he’d said he didn’t want to talk about it, but he knew what she was trying to do and after the night's events, he owed her this… and so much more. Even so, he pulled his gaze away from the calming grey of hers, going back to dicing the carrots so he wouldn’t have to see her reaction. Because he never wanted her to look at him with fear in those eyes again. He’d rather die.

“I dreamt you fell into Tartarus without me. That Nico and Jason pulled me from the ledge, wouldn’t let me go after you, and I…” he trailed off, a chill going down his spine as his throat constricted as if his own body refused to speak. He swallowed roughly and heard Annabeth’s stop moving, her small knife half sliced through a sandwich. His voice strained as he lowered it, lips parting as he forced out the next words, eyes closing in shame as he did.

“And I didn’t let them.” He set down the knife in his hand as they began to shake, instead turning away to lean against the counter with a palm drug across his face slowly. “What I did to you last night… I did it to them too but… so much worse.”

He turned to her then, letting the brokenness in his unguarded features and memory of the night before tell her the rest, explain to her everything he just couldn’t bring himself to say. Because unlike the other nightmares they’d shared in the same way, he feared that if he spoke it aloud— what he’d done, how he’d felt— then it would be true.

The image of Annabeth, the pure horror in her face when he’d choked Akhyls with her own poison… Percy had vowed he’d never, never in his life do anything to bring that look of fear towards him back. But he had. And this time, so much worse. He stepped to the side, putting more distance between them, for the first time scared of himself. Of what he could do without even knowing.

Controlling the plasma in a person’s veins. He felt like he could throw up. Until the nightmare, he hadn’t even known he was capable of such a thing. And why would he? Poison was one thing, but blood? That was on a whole nother level of messed up. 

If he’d just woken up screaming like a normal demigod with staggering amounts of PTSD, then he could’ve told Annabeth all about it, could have laughed it off. He could imagine what she would’ve said;

So what you’re telling me is that you’re a bloodbender? Like… wait what was her name… Katara? From that show you used to watch? No way, that makes no sense. Not even on the scale of possibility. 

But he hadn’t just screamed himself from the nightmare like usual. No. He’d done it, actually done it. In real life. To Annabeth. He’d proven that it was more than just a possibility. He staggered forward, clutching the other counter across the galley with one hand, the other pressed into his pounding forehead.

I hurt her… I could’ve killed her I-I couldn’t… right? What if I do it again? Oh my gods, what if I hurt someone else? I could’ve killed her, Annabe- I could’ve… I- I…  

His mind began to spiral and he was powerless to stop it, couldn’t silence the voice in his head, couldn’t stop the feeling that he was volatile. He couldn’t think, couldn’t hear, couldn’t breathe. He didn’t realize he was running until he ran into something on his way up the stairs, barely registered who it was or the familiar voice chasing after him. So many voices, all muffled and incoherent, yelling to him from every angle. His surroundings ebbed and flowed like a mirage and he couldn’t tell if he was running anymore or just staggering towards the one thing he knew, the one thing that he could feel even now.

Relief finally overtook him when his back collided with the water, the sting nothing to his numb senses. He didn’t control the water around him, didn’t form a bubble to keep him dry. He let himself sink into the depths, stopping only once he’d hit the ocean floor, letting the dark frigid water and distant sounds of sea creatures surround him. Envelope him, soothe him in a way air never would.

Pain and grief, self-hatred and anger, fear and guilt. Raw emotion swirled in his veins, toyed with his powers, invaded his brain. Too much, so much that they all canceled each other out to leave him utterly, completely, blissfully numb.

Annabeth was a certifiable wreck. Pacing on the deck wildly as she put together Percy’s words in her head, turning every implication and possibility into separate files and analyzing each one for factual hold. Because he couldn’t be right, there was no way.

The tint on her flushed cheeks from the rapid pacing deepened as she realized the others were all standing in a semicircle before her with extremely confused and concerned expressions. And why wouldn’t they be after watching Percy burst to the deck, knock into Frank so hard he fell to the ground, then proceed to stagger with gasping breaths to the railing with Annabeth yelling out to him only to hurl himself over the beam.

She’d been contemplating jumping in after him, but logic finally caught up to her that if he was so disoriented he probably wouldn’t be able to protect her against the frigid water. So she’d begun to pace, trying to make sense of all this.

And now they thought she was crazy.

Which, to be fair, who wasn’t in this life?

She forced her legs to stop moving, suddenly really tired as adrenaline left her all at once and she lowered herself onto a crate by the railing. 

“So…” Leo said, breaking the silence, “you wanna explain what’s goin’ on?”

Nails digging into the crate beneath her, Annabeth shook her head in a vain attempt to rattle her thoughts into some semblance of order or at least find a way to describe the last few hours in a way that wouldn’t scare them. But then she realized that was impossible; it was scary, more than that… she’d never been scared of Percy before, not even slightly, and the fact that she had been--if only for a heartbeat— last night absolutely mortified her. She was lost in her mind; fingers prying from the wood and onto her lap she began to wring them anxiously. A hand was suddenly on her shoulder, and when she looked up it was Piper who smiled at her reassuringly.

“What’s going on?” Annabeth had never heard her voice so soft before. It wasn’t charmspeak, just the pure warmth of a friend who truly cared. And so she took a deep breath and straightened her spine, chin raising despite the breeze biting at her damp eyes as she looked at her friends. And, as if ripping off a band-aid, she solidified her voice into that of pure intellect to keep those welling tears from falling.

“Last night, Percy had a nightmare.” None of them looked surprised, their faces still etched with the same worried expressions. “I tried to help like usual, reaching out to remind him where he was, that I was there with him. But he…” She muttered a curse under her breath to the traitor of a tear that slid down her cheek. In the time he’d known her, Frank had only seen the daughter of Athena cry once; when she’d been so overwhelmed with relief at being reunited with Percy only to plummet into Tartarus mere heartbeats later. He was grateful to have Hazel pressed against his side, her warmth grounded him in the present as Annabeth roughly wiped at her face before continuing. “... he startled when I touched him and threw his hands up,” her body shuddered as she recalled the sensation, “and before I knew what was happening… I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t anything .”

Their brows collectively raised as they tried to decipher what she was implying. Only Jason could find the words to ask the question they all had. “What did he do?”

“He can control blood.”

The ship went silent. Not even Festus made a sound and she could swear that even the wind ceased its gentle howling.

“Oh my gods,” Hazel finally whispered under her breath, the others letting out similar curses of disbelief now that the spell was lifted. Jason looked like he was going to be sick and swayed from beside Piper who lowered the hand she’d raised to her mouth. They all had a million questions, but with one look at the girl with impossible wisdom, it was clear to see she didn’t have the answers. For once, she didn’t know any more than they did. And Piper could see the fear that realization brought. 

“Annabeth, I…” she trailed off, searching for the right words, knowing they didn’t exist. “I’m so sorry that happened. You must have been terrified.”

The daughter of Athena looked up, her composure wavering. Her voice betrayed her as it broke on the strangled words she forced out through a lopsided smile. “I was.”

She leaned into Piper and then the others as they all joined around, embracing the shaking demigod. After a moment, Annabeth pulled away with a tight smile.

“We’re all here for you, Annabeth,” Jason said, repeating his words from only a few days ago where, just on the other side of the deck, he’d reassured her that everything would be fine. Now the words felt cursed on his tongue but he said them with as much confidence as he could muster anyway. “For both of you.”

Frank nodded, “Yeah, and whatever this is, we’ll figure it out. Together.”

“An come on, think about it,” Leo added, spreading his arms in a gesture to them all, “we’ve dealt with some pretty insane stuff before, this isn’t the strangest. Like, for example, how the goddess of victory is in the stables right now with a sock in her mouth. So compared to that, this is nothing. Just another Tuesday.”

They all broke into laughter, but faded off into empty silence. One by one, their gazes fell to one particular spot of railing; where moments ago, Percy had flung himself overboard. And none had the heart nor the courage to speak the words that hung in the air between them.

Percy Jackson, legendary demigod to both Greeks and Romans, controlling lifeblood as if it were water… that was, without a doubt, the strangest thing they’d yet to encounter.

By the time Percy got his grip back on reality, he was shivering violently and engulfed in darkness. He willed a heated bubble around him and rose to the surface. After some recon, he noticed the deck was empty save for Frank who was on night shift— and shifting with every few steps into different animals. The others must have been asleep or in the war planning room judging by the height of the moon. Placing himself back onto the ship, he quietly crept into his room, locking the door behind it and with the last shreds of consciousness, drug the heavy wooden table in front of it; barricading himself inside.

He barely made it to bed before collapsing with an earthquake level snore.

If he were mortal, that’s where it would have ended— would’ve slept like the dead until sunrise— but as it was, that half of him more golden than crimson tugged at his eyelids, willing them to open towards the inside of his mind. When he finally surrendered to the firm tugging and opened them, he was surprised to find himself standing inside what appeared to be a log cabin.

Slowly, with a fluidity only possible in the realm of dreams, he turned his head towards a window. Light streamed through the panes in ribbons of light as he squinted to peer through them. His vision ebbed and flowed as if everything were underwater, and he could vaguely make out what looked to be a flock of sheep grazing in a pasture. His head turned back, a delay between his neurons and the muscles in his neck, and when he looked back into the room the demigod saw he wasn’t alone anymore.

Two old ladies sat at a table, mounds of yarn between them and a third was seated in a rocking chair to his left. His surroundings became more clear as the dream— or vision, or nightmare, or whatever this was— settled into place. Percy jolted, his actions more on time with his brain’s shock now, because he knew these old women and knew they were anything but. He adjusted his posture slightly and stood at the room’s center with both hands hanging awkwardly beside him. When they continued to pay no attention to him, he cleared his throat.

“Um, hate to interrupt but… what, uh, what’s going on?”

The three looked up unnervingly in sync, just as startled as he’d been as they realized his presence. But when they took in the demigod before them, their smiles spread wide in a way that sent a shiver down his spine even in his current state of being.

“What a pleasure, ta’ have ya’,” the First said to him before looking to the others with a click of her tongue. “Seems Hypnos is good on his promises.”

They nodded but said no more, just looking him up and down in a way that reminded him of Leo gazing into a freshly opened bag of Fonzies. The thought rattled him enough to speak into the silence. “Oh cool, cool great glad to hear… uh what promise?”

The Second rose, her chair grinding against the splintered floorboards. She came forward and only stopped when she was inches from his face, neck bent up at a sharp angle due to his towering height compared to her stout form. He got the feeling she was searching his face for something as the other two began circling him like vultures.

He felt exposed, vulnerable, and more than slightly pissed off that the Fates, of all beings, had meddled with his mind. The slight fear leached out of him, leaving room for the beginnings of rage; he’d had more than enough of gods and primordial entities screwing with him as if he were some sort of plaything. Without realizing it, his hands twitched as they contorted in that cursed way that, against his will, was becoming more and more familiar. 

The Third saw it and halted in her orbit around him, eyes flicking to watch his tensed fingers. He forced both hands to go slack and schooled his features into passive blankness. But she’d seen it. Smiling that wicked grin, she pointed a bony finger to his now sweating palms.

“Ah! We were right!”

“‘Course, we never been wrong.”

“Not true! What about that time with—”

“Oh shut up you two.”

The bickering immediately ceased. They backed off, nodding as they stood before him looking like a bunch of grandmas who’d made him a sweater and were realizing it wasn’t itchy enough. His brow raised and he opened his mouth to make a retort he’d probably regret when the Third interjected his thoughts.

“We wanted to see for ourselves.”

From the shift in her voice, Percy got the feeling he didn’t want to know, but asked anyway. “See what exactly?”

“The God Killer.”

Percy’s eyes went wide. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but that… definitly wasn’t it. “Excuse me?”

The three burst into laughter as if sharing an inside joke. The sound ground against his earlobes like nails on a chalkboard and he tried not to flinch.

“Oh the things you will do, Perseus Jackson.”

And then they laughed and laughed and laughed. Carrying on long enough he was sure his ears were bleeding as they throbbed against the brutal assault echoing throughout the room. He felt his upper lip curl back, nose scrunching like Lupa. They wanted to drag him through his subconscious and ogle like he was a trophy? Wanted to abducted him onto their farm? Fine. He had some questions of his own.

“The prophecy,” he yelled over their sniggering, “can you tell me anything about it?”

Just like that, the noises ceased so abruptly that his ears rang in the newfound silence.

At an hour most unholy

when unity hangs by a thread

stern solidity turns to ash

bonds strengthen 

bonds shatter

Beloved blood soaks the earth

to unleash darkness incarnate

Percy twitched with annoyance, finding it hard not to roll his eyes as they recited the prophecy. “I know what it says. Can’t you tell me anything else ? ‘Cause to me it seems like a lot of demigods are going to die and our blood is going to make Gaea rise. Not sure about you all, but I’m not too hot about that idea. Is there a way to stop it? Or a loophole I’m not seeing? 

“So many questions,” the First whispered to herself, eyes wide as if she found him fascinating as the other two sneered behind from her. Percy barely felt the chill go down his spine this time, having gotten accustomed to it by now. Instead, his shoulders stayed squared, gaze level on the three.

“Fine, just tell me this… does it come true?”

To Percy’s surprise they didn’t laugh, didn’t smile.

“A prophecy always comes true. You know that better than anyone. But be warned, child of the sea; they are never what they seem.”

And before he could so much as part his lips, Percy was ejected from the cabin. He shot up to a sitting position, feeling sweat drenched sheets clinging to his legs as he panted. When he’d finally caught his breath, he forced himself to lay back down. The pillow felt wrong beneath his head, his sheets too tight around him, and he knew there was no way he was getting back to sleep. But they had a big day tomorrow, and his friends needed him, so he clamped his eyelids shut as tight as he would as a child on those nights when he convinced himself that if he just closed his eyes, the screams of arguments and thuds of punches would stop. That if he tried hard enough, they would all go away.

And it worked. Almost. 

Because as he finally began to melt into the backdrop of his subconscious, a voice reverberated in his head so loudly that he clamped his eyes even tighter. He flipped onto his side desperately and brought both knees up to his chest, curling in on himself just like he used to. But the voice still found him. And those words only got louder and louder...

God Killer

Chapter Text

They had definitely gotten lucky while in Rome— not the whole Bryce or stabbing incident, but Nico being able to make that short second jump to safety and finally having dream filled sleep for once. Luck that seemed to have run out now that they were attempting to leave the cursed lands. 

From her place strapped to the towering Parthenos behind her, Reyna closed her eyes like usual— having found it made her less dizzy to not watch the dripping shadows— but nothing happened. Senses alert, she couldn’t feel the cold rush of otherworldly air raise the hair on her arms or hear the deep labored breaths of Nico beside her. When a sharp hiss followed by a near-silent moan of discomfort sounded from his direction, she allowed one eye to peek open. The demigod was concentrating, focusing so hard that sweat had gathered on his forehead like a crown beneath that mess of obsidian hair. 

Reyna opened both eyes to watch as light overtook his features, every shadow on his face and the forest clearing surrounding them being drawn in and absorbed as usual, but then they seeped back out in thin snakes of fog and the shadows returned; again and again this shifting happened. His breaths came out in broken shudders, body resisting against the leather straps that groaned against the angled muscles. Reyna could feel the tension radiating from him, could have sworn her heartbeat quickened in tandem with his. And yet, nothing happened.

Her thoughts began to race. This hadn’t happened before. What did it mean? Had he pushed his powers, his body, his mind too far? It was a possibility they’d been anxiously expecting, or at least she’d been. She believed in his strength and determination, she did, but what they had been asking him to do… the odds were more than stacked against him. She would know, she’d calculated them before that very first jump. 

Lips parting, she made to suggest they stop— rest, regroup, and try again later… if at all— but the words caught in her throat as Nico’s rustling body went limp, head hanging, chin to the harness at his chest.

“Nico!” Any traces of stoicism, formalness, or Praetorship abandoned Reyna as the cry escaped her lips. She pushed it aside— the voice of Lupa who would have ripped her to shreds for hearing such emotion from the Roman— and launched into action. Her fingers made quick work of the too-familiar buckles on her own harness before attacking his with one hand, the other moving to press against his jugular and ensure a steady pulse.

But when her fingers had barely grazed the throbbing tissue, his eyelids flew open and he jolted back with such force that his head slammed against the stone behind him. Using what she could only assume was their last strand of luck, he remained conscious and barely winced at the collision, too focused on fixing a droopy eyed death glare at the hand that had almost been pressed against his jugular.

After making a mental note to ask him what that was about later, she concentrated on easing him the rest of the way out of the leather straps embrace. Nico’s glare had disappeared, a hand of his own dragging across his sweat covered face. He began to sway slightly as she backed up and without hesitation, moved to support his weight. He raised a wary hand.

“’m okay,” he mumbled weakly despite the slurred speech. Hands braced as he leaned heavily on the base of the Parthenos— it’s rough surface pressing deep into his palms— Nico didn’t have the energy to flinch as Aurum growled from somewhere by Reyna. Not when the forest was spinning around him and the shadows he’d tried to absorb slithered from his grip, seeping onto the grass beneath his feet that withered at the touch of darkness.

“Nico…” Reyna began, taking half a step closer to the turned male whose eyes were clamped shut. Paying mind to the aura of midnight fog encasing his body like a phantom skin, she took another step and repeated herself, slightly louder this time as all the pent up worry and complex emotions she’d never granted herself permission to have towards anyone churned inside her, clouding any rationality. “Nico?”

From the angle she now stood, she could see his eyes clamp tighter, furrowed brow deepening. “I said I’m f-”

“Don’t you dare ,” she snapped. It came out sharper than she’d intend, but Reyna didn’t care. She couldn’t take it anymore. Malice clung to her every word even as he stared, eyes now wide with shock as if she’d hit him. “Don’t even think about saying that gods damned word. You haven’t been fine since the day I met you. And why would you be? You refuse to open up to anyone, seclude yourself, hide in the shadows and mope about how no one cares about you then take every opportunity to embark on some hopeless task. You know what I think? I think you agree to all of these suicide missions because you’re too scared to live.”

He was so still, so calm. Too calm as he said quietly but not softly, “Look who's talking.”

Darkness continued to pour from him, the grass beneath his feet turning the color of that nightmarish blade slung at his hip. She was playing a dangerous game, but if it got him to let her help, then it would be worth it. Alarms blared in her mind as trained instincts and those sewn into her DNA all screamed to get away. This was a lethal creature. A threat. But she silenced the voices once more and stared into the void. 

A wolf challenging a hellhound. 

There was something otherworldly in his eyes. She’d never noticed there were actual specks of color, of gold, inside the pitch black irises. They flickered like hellfire. But Reyna didn’t stand down. Around them even the birds had stopped chirping, sensing what she had awoken. 

“Do you even want to get home in one piece? I can’t imagine how devastated Will would be if you pushed the limits of your power too far and he wasn’t here to save you.” Reyna knew it was a low blow, but he wasn’t giving in and she refused to let him try making the jump without her help. She didn’t care if he hated her after this, if he never talked to her again, because she would not stand by as he ripped himself apart. So she held that predatory glare with one of her own and drew the corner of her lip up in a disgusted sneer. “Does he mean nothing to you?”

The shadows around him thickened, his pale skin taking on a grey hue. She didn’t think he was breathing. The air around her turned frigid and her arms became speckled with goosebumps. But then it ceased and that mid-morning sun warmed her once again.

Nico’s face was cold and unyielding as he let out a disgruntled huff, rolling his eyes with the shake of his head. The shadow skin disbursed, the fog vanished, and a scarred hand reached up for the dangling harness. The Praetor might have spoken a few words of truth, but Nico brushed it off. He had a responsibility. People needed him to get this done, and by gods he was going to. 

Hot rage flashed through her mind with such vengeance she didn’t realize she had clutched a hand around his bicep until she felt warm bandaging beneath her palm. Before she could register the wound she now graspt with white knuckles or even think up the words to apologize, he swirled on her, ripping from her hold with teeth bared like a cornered hellhound.

Her instincts screeched to reach for her blade and disarm his own that still hung at his hip, but she forced it all down and removed her hand before tilting her head to meet that lethal gaze above. And despite the adrenaline coursing through the space between them, she forced calmness into her tone.

“Please, Nico. Let me help you.”

For a long moment that seemed to last an eternity, he stared at her with those wild eyes. But then the spell broke and Nico softened his glare. 

“Okay,” he said, head falling to hang between his shoulders. Reyna raised a tentative brow.

“Okay…?”

“Your strength, I… I’ll borrow it.” The words came out more pained than he would’ve liked, but he was too exhausted to care. Lifting his head took considerable effort and his injured arm throbbed with a vengeance in tandem with the pounding in his head and bone deep ache in his shoulders. But he still hated himself for caving. He wasn’t strong enough to quell the voice in his head that said he was a monster for even considering to accept the offer. To subject her to his reality. But at her outburst he realized that whether he let her help or not, he’d be hurting her either way. So he tried to make the corner of his lip twitch in a smile. He had a feeling it came out more like a grimace, but the look of relief on her face more than made up for it. 

“Sorry about grabbing your arm like that,” she jerked her chin towards it, “do you want me to check the stitches?”

He shook his head and gestured instead to the harnesses. “No. We should get going.”

She opened her mouth to suggest they wait a little longer, but his eyes took on that of a plea so she tightened her lips into a thin line and nodded before joining him.

“Just so you know,” Nico’s voice cut through the slumbering forest with a hoarseness Reyna had never heard before. “He means everything to me.”

Nico knew what she’d been trying to do, riling him up like that, so he didn’t feel the need to challenge or refute anything she’d said in that blind rage. But her accusation about Will, that he couldn’t allow to be left unchecked. A gentle smile twitched on Reyna’s lip and her brows softened in the form of an apology. His head dipped in acceptance, and whatever strange beginnings of a friendship they’d been growing over these days that felt like years was restored. Breathing became much easier.

This time when Reyna closed her eyes she prepared herself to feel that overwhelmingly peaceful sensation of raw power as she had before when lending her strength in the fight against Bryce. That satisfying feeling that she could only compare to the relief of getting to stretch after a long time which the more she thought about realized it was probably due to the discomfort of maintaining control of those tendrils of power Nico had explained. That releasing it as he had to will the Roman and his goons into the ground had brought comfort at getting to expel even a small amount of his power. 

She glanced beside her to Nico who hadn’t yet closed his eyes as usual. From the look on his face, Reyna could tell he was trying to think of a way to retract his agreement. She really couldn’t figure out what he was so concerned about; why so adamant about refusing her help? Because there was genuine fear in Nico’s face. A logical voice— her Praetor voice— chided her for the lack of intel on what she had agreed to do. She didn’t even know where their target destination was or how much assistance he’d need. A million questions began to filter through her mind but she silenced them and met the traces of fear on Nico’s face with a daring smile. What he needed more than anything right now was assurance, confidence, strength. And if need be, Reyna would give him all she had.

“Ready when you are.”

Nico swallowed roughly, “You’re sure about this? I’m sure if I try harder I can do it on my own.”

“No,” Reyna said with narrowed eyes. “We do this together or not at all, di Angelo.”

Lips drawn together in a thin line, he gave a curt nod and closed his eyes before exhaling deeply through his nose. The mark on her arm began to glow faintly and she watched as the stress lines in Nico’s face began to ease. She felt a smile on her lips; it was working, her strength helping and the forest around them began to melt. Reyna closed her eyes to stop the dizzying trick and leaned her head against the stone behind her, loosing a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding as small fragments of Nico’s power flickered down the bond of her own, bringing with it that sense of relief and control. She reached for them, welcoming the sensations, giving more of her strength to coax them out. The dull thrum of her glowing mark was getting stronger, a sort of burning taking its place. She paid no mind— the slight burn was typical whenever she lent her power. 

Eyes still closed, she furrowed a brow as the discomfort grew, grew, grew. And the whispers of Nico’s power trailing to her morphed into something new. Reyna jolted, but the restraints held her firmly in place. Because this was different. Wrong. Something… something had to be wrong. The thought entered her mind a split second before the wall that had been trickling his power to her in small, controlled amounts shattered. 

Through her thrashing she heard a sound— animalistic and tortured— and it took her a moment to realize that it was coming from her. A noise that tore from her lungs, ripping through her throat, and she understood.

The shadows were Nico’s to wield, but as he’d said before, they were fighting him. And pain— unlike any she’d ever endured— shrieked through every neuron, searing her core, stealing the air from her lungs. Suffocating her. A clarity overtook her system so suddenly she choked on a gasp. Every fiber of tissue, every ounce of morrow in her bones, every pulse of the blood in her veins, she could feel it all… and it was all on fire. As if the clarity’s only purpose was to provide supreme awareness of the suffering, she could feel it all. The fire was that of boiling poison and it coating every micron of her being. She could feel nothing and everything all at once. With no control of her limbs, she was at the mercy of the shadows. Vaguely she was aware of her body spasming against the statue.

A new wave of darkness collided with her mind and she tried in vain to swallow past the trickle of blood flowing down her throat from nowhere, while her ribs and shoulders felt as though they were being crushed by her harness… no… not hers. 

It was Nico’s pain that she now felt, from the bands that tethered him to the Parthenos. The sounds that escaped her lips were inhuman, the shear agony erupting beneath each strap incomprehensible. It had never occurred to her that he was physically carrying she and the statue through the shadows. Despite the chaos that was her current reality, an image flashed in her mind; the bright purple bruises he’d accidentally revealed all those days ago.

A wave of raw anguish drowned her and when she knew she could take no more, it stopped. Everything became deathly quiet, so silent her ears rang painfully. And then a voice, ethereal yet paradoxically volatile sliced through the silence.

“You have done enough, fought enough, given enough. The surface does not deserve you, Nico. Come home… before it is too late…”

She felt herself slipping, yearning for that voice to console, to soothe the ravaged wound that was her tattered existence. The voice understood. It would make everything better. Damn the war and the Parthenos, she wanted to go home . 

Reyna wasn’t sure how much of what she was thinking were her own thoughts. Before she could wonder further, she felt her surroundings shift. She could no longer feel the straps, no longer feel the burn of her decay. Something primal told her not to open her eyes, not to look. Reinforced by a shout, desperate and ragged, that screamed down the bond to her. 

Don’t look

Please, please don’t open your eyes

Reyna obeyed, clenching her lids until they ached. But as if a siren, something compelled her to look. Not the voice from before. No, this was the command of the shadows pounding through her head. It was a wonder her head didn’t split open at the restraint it took to resist its orders.

You want to see

Just open your eyes

OPEN YOUR EYES

Reyna had no choice, her will was not her own, and the scene before her was startling. There was no darkness, no engulfing shadows. Looking down she jolted back. Her hands were small and a diluted olive tinge, exposed arms pure of any mark or scar. Her legs were too short, frame too small and the clothes she wore were not her own.

A hand was clutched tightly around her own and she looked up to see a woman towering beside her. Not imposing or intimidating, and Reyna felt phantom love in her heart for the stranger whose face was a foggy blur; only the warm smile upon her delicately painted lips were clear. A girl slightly taller than Reyna’s form occupied the woman’s other hand and from the other side of her skirt, the girl beamed at Reyna with mischief gleaming in her black irises. Reyna could tell with one look that the girl would grow to be beautiful; the spattering of freckles adorning rich olive skin contrasted against void like hair tied up in a ribbon that matched the woman’s bound locks. Opening her mouth, Reyna found she had no voice so she looked around instead to see that the three were making their way through what appeared to be a hotel. 

Reyna looked over to the little girl whose mouth was moving but no sound came out, at least none she could hear. The woman chatted to her and let out what looked to be laughter. She halted, drawing the two close to her sides to let a man pushing a cart of luggage pass by.

It all happened so fast. Faster than Reyna could comprehend. One moment the woman was gently pulling her and the little girl back through the bustling lobby, and the next… 

Dust coated Reyna’s throat, filling her lungs with each ragged inhale. The body she was in was not her own, she was a mere passenger as it pushed with all the might capable of this small form to get free of the debris and rubble surrounding her. The silence was deafening but all at once, sound exploded around her. She could hear desperate cries and shrieks for help, coughing and pained moans of the injured, silence from the dead she crawled over. Reyna wasn’t sure where the body was taking her, but on scraped hands and knees slick with blood, it climbed across the wreckage towards what had moments ago been the center of the lobby. 

Fear that wasn’t her own assaulted Reyna at the sight before her but the form didn’t stop until it had brought her to the fallen woman’s side. She was so still. Reyna fought for control of her own emotions as phantom grief overwhelmed her. The features of the woman’s face became crystal clear for the first time. And this time, when agony struck Reyna, she knew it was her own. 

Because despite the gash ripped through the simple yet breathtaking beauty of the woman’s face and the crimson flowing from another on her forehead, Reyna knew who this was. The resemblance was uncanny. The same sharp jaw and angular features. The same pale skin and dark eyes with flecks of gold suspended within the obsidian orbs. Eyes that did not blink. And when Reyna looked down at the hands of her body, realization hit her and for the first time she knew whose it was. 

She knew Nico’s mother had passed away a long time ago and Will had revealed it was Zeus who orchestrated it, but no one had told her how. No one had told her that Nico had been so young… or that he’d witnessed it all… that he’d held onto his mother’s corpse as she did now, still trapped in his body, or that he’d curled next to her trying to keep her warm.

Horror gripped Reyna, suffocating her as it settled beside the phantom grief. 

“Not like this.” She pleaded in her mind, “Please no, it couldn’t have happened like this.”

The little girl was suddenly beside her, pulling Reyna away and into her instead. Together they were whole. Together they would survive. “Shhh shhh,” the little girl cooed despite the sobs wracking her frame and the tears Reyna felt wet the top of her head. “I’m here, Nico. I’ll always be here.”

Rage flickered in her mind, spearing through the phantom emotions to give way for her own. Zeus had done this. The crowned god of justice. There was no justice in the demolished hotel lobby. Just dust and blood and death. And two orphaned demigods.

Reyna forced the head to look up, to gaze into the little girl’s brave eyes. She was just a child. A child covered in the blood of her mother. A child using all the strength in her small frame to keep her brother whole. To shield him from the darkness, not knowing it would follow him for the rest of his life.

As violently abrupt as the woman’s death, Reyna's surroundings melted away. She was suspended in that void of nothingness. And when she blinked into it, a new scene took form. 

The body she now inhabited was only slightly bigger than the last, with a few random blemishes on the exposed arms’ pale skin. 

Her surroundings were still settling, not yet fully formed around her, when she was brought to her knees with a strangled cry. She clenched her eyes together, unable to open them or see where she was, as something gripped her heart with such ferocity she could barely breathe. 

Teeth bared to the sky, her knees dug into the uneven terrain that felt like sheets of metal, and she let out a howl of agony so deep her throat went dry. Her frame wracked as she fought to inhale between uncontrollable screams. 

Tears streamed down her burning cheeks and her head was becoming light with hyperventilation, but still the grip did not relinquish. It squeezed tighter, tighter, tighter. Until the screams turned to pleas.

Finally, finally the unforgiving hold eased. Not entirely, but enough for her to bring her heart back to a survivable rate and subdue the fire in her lungs. Enough for her to crack open her eyes.

Reyna had been right. That little girl had grown to be beautiful. More than that. She looked as if a goddess; bow strewn beside her, onyx hair pulled back in a braid, a silver aura illuminating her and a string of stars placed delicately upon her head. But goddesses were immortal. 

And Bianca di Angelo was dead.

But before Reyna could so much as react to the loss that had so nearly destroyed her only seconds ago, the void engulfed her once more, and she was reborn anew. This time her legs were long, arms littered with scars and bruises, body weak. Nothing but skin and bones. There was an ache in her stomach so all consuming that it took her a moment to realize she could barely breathe. In a daze, her lids parted and she looked around to see… glass? Glancing up she saw a massive cork. What was this? 

She was sitting against one of the translucent walls. Cold. So cold. Without barely an ounce of substance to her body, she was freezing to the bone. But it was nothing compared to the cries from her insatiable lungs. 

There was something in her palm, red drops that glistened in her white hand. Those phantom thoughts pounded through her mind; wondering what the point was. No one was coming. No one cared. 

No fear spiked her heart rate, no concern or dread. Nothing. She felt nothing. Knew nothing except the near paralysis of her lungs, the persistent shiver in her bones. She lowered herself to the glass ground slowly. Curling in on herself, she awaited the maw of death to claim her.

But her eyes opened, lungs functional and she was alive. The air was wrong though; it bit at her as she inhaled, fighting a thousand wars as it entered her lungs. But it was familiar somehow. The surroundings cleared enough for her to squint into the darkness. She was shocked to find she could actually see in the pitch black. A cage. She was in a cage.

Raising her head, she saw a hole that seemed to go on forever, and lead to this box of thick metal bars and rough ground. That’s when she noticed she wasn’t alone. A body lay on the other side but when she made to move for it, white pain blinded her. When she’d recovered enough to open her eyes, Reyna saw that both legs were definitely broken. She looked back to the hole. Had she fallen from it?

Reyna was going to take a moment to catch her breath on the acrid air and think of a way over to the body that would involve the least amount of pain, but the phantom control was back and she could do nothing as her body began to drag itself across the rough cage floor, the skin of her hands and elbows splitting from jagged friction. 

Somehow she made it to the other side without passing out, but when she saw who lay prone beneath her, Reyna froze. It was her. 

Without even a heartbeat to let that soak in, the image flickered and she found herself with a blade heavy in her pale hand as it pressed against the throat of that body lying broken beneath her.

And as the sword delivered that fatal release from agony, Reyna was back in the void. She felt the straps on her and the blazing pain returned from before. Her bones were breaking, she was sure of it. And her heart… she couldn’t feel it’s beat. The visions had shattered whatever was left of it. 

For the first time in her life, Reyna craved death. 

She would have been content with giving up, offering herself wholly to whatever fate lay on the other side rather than endure one more second of this. There was bravery, and then there was insanity. And this kind of torture… she couldn’t take it anymore. Praetor or not. Had Nico not been attached to the other end of her power, tethering her to his own life, she would have. Would have embraced death with a smile of relief. 

But as it were, Reyna closed her eyes once more and gave Nico all she had.

Chapter Text

With heavy laden eyes that opened slowly, Zeus looked down at the forest nymph laid across his chest. Her body was warm against his, a gentle rise and fall as she slept, the bare skin a rich pastel green against his cloud white. Not nearly as beautiful as the drink server from two nights ago, but what she lacked in beauty she had more than made up for in flexibility. He hadn’t a clue what her name was nor where they’d met, not that it mattered. It would be nearly impossible to keep track of every woman he bed, so it was pointless and a waste of energy to feign caring. 

The God-King was trying to recall what meetings he had with his court today to determine how much longer he could remain in the enormous bed— so large it could, and had, easily fit ten— beneath the slumbering nymph when the door to his private chamber opened. He did not startle though, for only one being had a key to this place.

The clopping of hooves echoed through the marble room as the satyr made way to Zeus’ side. Paying no heed to the nymph as usual, his toffee colored goat legs speckled with white splotches bent in a low bow before silently handing his master a sealed envelope and retreating without a word.

Zeus had always appreciated his most prized servant’s silence. Despite having been the one to remove its tongue.

Once the creature had disappeared, pulling the ornate door shut behind him, Zeus looked down at the contents in his hand. The envelope was blank on both sides, yet the unmarked glossy obsidian finish that he could see his reflection in and the wax seal on the back that looked like a drop of blood frozen in time with a pomegranate crest stamped within told him exactly who it was from.

“Wake up,” he said, roughly shaking the green shoulder. She startled awake but let her eyes fall into a sensual droop, parting those purple lips. Zeus cut her off though, telling her if she wasn’t gone in the next minute, he’d have her put in the dungeons. She gaped at him and Zeus snarled, “Begone!”

A bark of laughter burst from him as her eyes widened, horrified and she scurried from the room in fear, half naked. When alone at last, Zeus opened the envelope and removed the ivory folded card held within. In a scrawl too harsh for the elegant stationary, it read:

Prior engagements. Another time perhaps.

— Hades & Persephone

While Hades’ name was written in the same brutish scrawl and same black ink as the message, Zeus’ eyes lingered on the refined calligraphy of Persephone’s signature. And the bright crimson ink it had been etched onto the ivory card with. There was nothing savage in the fanciful loops and whirls, nothing but beauty and grace, and he would have thought nothing of it— the script of a proper lady— but that ink… it made the mystery shrouding the goddess thicken.

Persephone kept well to herself, only a select few gods and goddesses had seen her since the wedding. All Zeus knew was that she had never once made a play for his throne, so he paid her no mind. But it didn’t keep him from wondering what had become of her. No one knew. How had her powers grown as others whispered in hushed breathes? Were the whispers even true? What was her relation with Nico? Did she care for the child that was not her own, or could she be a potential ally to Zeus’ plan? Would she help him destroy the boy? Of course there were rumors aplenty, but Zeus had wanted to see with his own eyes what he might be up against once his plan unfolded. Only a foolish king would not consider the aftermath of such a plan. 

He had known Hades well once, eons ago, but they had drifted apart each to their own domains and Poseidon had taken to submitting beneath Zeus’ rule. But now, with that female at Hades’ side, there was no telling what either were capable of. In his sly gathering of information, Zeus had gleaned they ruled the Underworld fiercely beside one another, that she was King of the Dead as much as Hades was. It was a concept Zeus could not wrap his head around. 

Why would Hades diminish the power of his throne for some lackluster goddess? How was she capable of ruling equally beside the King of the Underworld when her powers were nothing compared to his? Why had Hades even married the goddess of spring in the first place? It made no sense to him. His thoughts drifted to that of Hera. His wife had power to her crown, but only as much as he allowed. He was the sole king of the gods. And she was not queen due to her strength or ability, but through marital ties and nothing more. A byproduct of politics and tradition.

What did Hades have to gain by permitting this? By breaking tradition and making his wife more than a display of his own prowess? There had to be something Zeus was missing. Some bond between them that he could not see. He would seek out Aphrodite after the council meeting; if anyone knew about invisible bonds, it was her.

He placed the letter back into the glossy paper and flipped the envelope over. A maroon pomegranate seal, not his brother's usual silver skull adorned the flap. Zeus had asked them to dinner in order to get a read on them, to gauge their dynamics. Because Zeus had seen Hades’ rage only once before, and he’d been unable to stop it. In fact, if not for the Fates’ accidentally revealed hint that it was a demigod who was the threat to his crown, he would have suspected Hades. Because although Zeus would never in a thousand lifetimes admit it aloud, it had been a blessing that the god of death had regained control of himself on his own accord. A blessing that the only casualty of his rage over the loss of Maria had been Zeus’ daughter and not his throne. But this time, Zeus would be more careful. He needed a way to maintain control once Hades’ son was disgraced and his powers diluted beside Perseus Jackson. Persephone could be the key to that. If she was as powerful as those whispers claimed, and if she hated Nico anywhere near as much as her legendary hatred for Demeter… then Zeus could use her to enforce order when the bloodletting ceased. And then he would find a way to ensure her unquestioning loyalty as well. 

With a mighty groan, Zeus rose from the impossibly soft mattress and strode for his bathing pool. The archway leading to it glimmered with blue gems encased in gold. The blue orbs that looked like eyes caused an image to flash across his mind. He paused, running a finger across one of the smooth gems. 

What a pity it had been, for such a born warrior to be nothing more than a tree now. What a waste. And what an ordeal that had been, putting on a show and putting on that mask of grief for days so that Hades would finally be satisfied and quieted down about Maria’s death.

Zeus lowered his hand with a look of disdain and continued into a space even larger than the bedroom. With open walls high in the tower where no one could see, a gentle breeze floated between each spire encircling the massive pool of crystal clear water.

Yes, Thalia’s death had been unfortunate, but the attempt to kill the di Angelos was finally not for nothing. Because now he could use the knowledge that killing children of death was no easy task. Information that would help him in his plan.

When the daughter Bianca had died, Zeus had been overjoyed. A child of Hades who was both demigod and huntress was a dangerous combination. He had gotten into it with Artemis for granting such a powerful girl with even more, but the archer had laughed in his face. Claiming him a coward. But when Bianca had died, Zeus ended up being the victor, because Artemis had wept for days. And Zeus had tested the limit of how many writhing bodies his bed could truly hold in celebration. 

But the son… shrouded in almost as much mystery as Persephone, there was something truly lethal in that boy’s future— Fate or not, Zeus could tell. Apparently Nico had embarked on his latest mission to reach Camp Half-Blood, Roman and Parthenos in tow. Some of the lesser gods, low life bottom feeders, were placing bets on whether he would make it in time or not at all. But this was perfect. Echidna had been a problem for a long time, and the demigods would do what they did best, defeat her for the gods. And with both camps present, with the gods and goddesses watching from above, all would be witness to the reckoning. It was perfect. Because if the journey itself didn’t kill Nico, then when he arrived to the battlefield to deliver the Parthenos and mend the rift— or whatever that ridiculous statue was supposed to do— Nico would be so weak that he would be forced into a corner; his only option to stop the bloodshed would be to give himself fully to his powers. And when the demigod of shadows and death lost control of the untamable power awakened from the slumber in his veins, Zeus would have all the evidence he needed. 

A smile spread across his mouth as he stepped into the water, a chalice in hand filled to the brim with nectar. He could see it now.

When it was all said and done, he’d wait a day and hold court, claiming children of the big three contained a power too much for a half-mortal to handle. That they were endangering their own lives and those of the other demigods as well. He would call for a vote that Nico di Angelo, Perseus Jackson, and Jason Grace as well— to err on the side of caution— have their powers reduced. Drained to that of an ordinary demigod. He would even bring up mentions of equality across all godly children; that none should be superior to the others. He knew that alone would win over more than a few of the gods and goddesses of the court. And without the unpredictability and brashness of a demigod’s heart, without the threat that human rage could produce, organize, and use to overthrow… none would ever challenge his throne.

The warm water enveloped him as he gazed out upon all that was Olympus and made a promise to every pillar of marble, every body that bustled in the golden streets, every tree and cloud and leaf and sanctum. 

I will be your eternal king. 

Jolting from the shadows depths, Nico knew better than to feel for the wounds that wouldn’t be there. He choked down the pain and nausea that would dissipate eventually because it wasn’t real, wasn’t real, wasn’t real.

But as the ringing in his head subdued and the dusk cloaked forest around him cleared, the bruises on his body and wound beneath the bandage of his arm announcing themselves, his heart stopped.

Nico had no idea what Reyna had seen; after that soothing voice had yearned him to stop and return home as it always did, he himself had relieved a recurring nightmare of holding his stygian blade aloft, dripping with familiar blood, while his friends were strewn at his feet. Bloody and unbreathing. Then he’d spent some time with Bob in Tartarus, defeating monsters beside the spear-broom wielding titan, and then leading the seven through the House of Hades. There had also been something new; not a past nightmare or memory. His mind was still reeling from the overwhelming pain of it all, but he could remember one thing with striking clarity. Claws. Long dark claws raking through him. Through muscle and bone as if he were nothing more than air.

But none of that mattered, none of it was the reason his heart skipped a beat, and then another. No, it was at the sight of Reyna exiting the shadows beside him. At the strangled cries that tore through the silent forest.

He unbuckled his straps and rushed for hers only to find she had somehow already freed herself. The legendary Praetor took all of one step, trying in vain to stand, but her legs were useless and she crumpled to the earth. Collapsing, curling in on herself, lungs gasping for air, she could do nothing to quell the broken sobs and incomprehensible flow of sounds that erupted from her dry throat that felt as though coated in sand.

Anxiety gripped Nico’s soul. He didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to help. He could barely pull himself back together after making a jump, so how was he supposed to help her?

“Wh-t … h-...w,” she sputtered. But words had no meaning as the fire seering her entire body at the molecular level slowly, excruciatingly slowly began to die down. A million questions battled in her mind at once, all rushing to her tongue that tasted of blood. Her limbs were not her own, just as during the jump, but rather than being controlled by that phantom— by Nico’s past selves— they were now at the mercy of that burning agony.

Nico gripped the statue tighter, trying to force the scenery to stop spinning, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. Finally he felt himself begin to stabilize enough to stagger for her, only to fall against a tree. Bark collided with his face that he shook with a snarl, as if that could make his balance restore. 

The spinning ceased by some stroke of luck and he pushed from the tree. He might not know much in the ways of comfort, but he knew he needed to get to Reyna. Reyna who was writhing in the grass from a pain he knew all too well. Pain that was all his fault. Nico cursed the day he was born for doing this to her; for letting her talk him into it. He hadn’t realized how accustomed his body had become to the potent agony until seeing Reyna— one of the fiercest warriors he'd likely ever know— crippled by what he’d been too weakened by exhaustion to shield her from.

Without realizing what he was doing Nico dropped to his knees, refusing to acknowledge his own pain or the screaming from the straining stitches in his bicep, and used all the strength he could summon from his aching muscles to pull Reyna’s thrashing form close to his chest. She fought against his grip, pushing against his battered body and striking bruises with enough force to make him let out a strangled cry. And yet he did not let go. Some slumbering human instinct took over as he formed an iron brace around her with his arms— the injured bicep twitching with effort— and forced her ear to his chest. His own heartbeat filled her ears, calming her own as it synced to his rhythm. 

A memory sliced through the chaos running rampant in his mind and held within his arms. A memory of Will holding Nico in this exact embrace for nights on end when he’d been trapped between unconsciousness and wakefulness. On those nights when the terrors gouged him with talons, gripping him tightly while his body tried to force himself awake with no luck. Those nights when Will had to restrain Nico with every ounce of strength he had to prevent Nico from hurting himself and calm him down enough to sink back into his fitful version of sleep.

The travel pack was strewn in the grass beside them and Nico’s body howled in defiance as he stretched for it. Pulling it closer with a scarred finger, he found what he was looking for and shifted Reyna’s worryingly limp body so that she was propped up into a sitting position against his shoulder. Although smaller than he, the Roman’s weight against his bruised shoulder and wounded bicep sent black spots dancing in his vision. His head grew heavy, eyelids struggling to stay open, as the sharp lashes of pain coursed through him. When his chin fell to his chest, pressing into a bruise, he snapped out of it. Reyna needed him, now wasn’t the time for passing out.

“Here,” he said weakly, holding out the square of ambrosia he’d retrieved from the pack to her chattering teeth, helping her to eat. He nearly lent himself to the dark embrace of sleep at the relief that washed over him as her eyes opened— unseeing and blinking in a daze but opened nonetheless. The sight was mortifying to behold and he knew instantly that the scene would somehow make itself into the rolodex of nightmare fuel for his future night terrors and shadow travel visions.

What have I done? How much did she see? Why did I let her help me? Foolish, foolish, foolish. This is yours to bear, how selfish can you be? Dragging anyone else into this?

Nico closed his eyes but forced them open again. What she had done for him had helped immensely, it truly had, but he made a promise to the snarling voice in his head so ripe with disgust and loathing, that he would never allow her to help again. Yes she had volunteered, but it was he who’d let her. And now she was suffering because of his weakness.

In her current state Reyna couldn’t sense his emotions, could only hear her own racing thoughts become clearer with every chew of ambrosia. She could somehow feel Nico’s heartbeat against her side, and with each thud everything came back to her.

Bu bum

Sister clutching him tightly despite the blood dripping from them both; dead mother beside them.

Bu bum

That incomprehensible sensation that had stolen air from his lungs and gripped his heart with no mercy; sister’s death clinging to his soul as it slipped away.

Bu bum

A glass jar where air and warmth and hope and life had no place. No meaning.

Bu bum

Cage bars set wide enough for poisoned air to seep through. Darkness beyond that beckoned and promised the kind of death not capable of being contained within such a mortal word. 

Bu bum

Blade pressed against her own throat. A scream erupting from his cracked and bleeding lips. A roar to the gods who would not answer. A plea from her own lips.

And yet, she was alive.

Reyna was alive. The word reverberated through her head. Because how? How? How was she trembling against the grass, muscles seizing as they betrayed her, when she’d died over and over again? When she’d felt her bones shatter, lungs shrivel, soul decay? How…

Those racing thoughts turned to horror as she realized what she’d felt had only been half— if that— of what he endured every single time they shadow traveled. The thought settled roughly between the shards of her tattered soul. Ambrosia coursing through her system and finally taking affect, she became startlingly aware of her surroundings. That the tree frigid from the evening air she was leaning against wasn’t a tree, but Nico’s side, and the reason she could feel his heartbeat against her back despite being pressed against his side was because the wound beneath his bandaged arm was throbbing ferociously as her weight pressed into it. She tried to pull away, to apologize, to anything , but words were foreign on her tongue. Though her voice remained silent, her mind became alight with rage.

What the hell was she doing on the ground? She should be taking care of Nico not the other way around. 

But she had no strength in her. Just like in those awful visions— or whatever they had been— she wasn’t in control of her body. If only she could get her limbs to stop their damn shaking.

Hating the sound that rumbled beneath her as she moved, Reyna tilted her sore neck to face him. Nico’s features were gaunt, haunted as per usual following a jump, but this was different. There was a thickness to the shadows that clung to him now and it could have been her imagination or all she’d just endured, but his raven hair looked somehow darker and no light reflected off those black irises nor the gold flecks that seemed muted against the miniature voids. A million questions barreled in her mind but she could only get out a single word through her painfully dry throat, still raw from screaming for life and death with equal fierceness.

“How?”

She knew he understood, but Nico gave her a wary grimace that she assumed had been meant as a comforting smile and nodded to the twitching in her legs that refused to completely go away. “You need to rest. I’ll wake you for food when it’s ready.”

The Praetor set her jaw. In a tone of steel and stone, she repeated, “ How? ”

He looked down at her, so much torment and hatred in his eyes that even disoriented as she was, Reyna could see was not aimed at her… but himself. And he was retreating back into himself, that Reyna could see as well. Even without words, she knew he was blaming himself. It was taking its toll seeing her like this it seemed; and now, with the insight she had on his mother and sister, she knew exactly why. Before she would have chided him for looking at her like that, would have scoffed at the ridiculousness of caring so much. But not now. Not when she could still feel the warmth of their blood in her palms.

He averted his gaze but she saw the gold flecks flash like embers. Because it was a question he couldn’t answer despite all the frustration it brought. How was it that he could make each jump knowing the torture that awaited each and every time. How was it that he’d kept it all a secret from her until now; until his body had physically refused to face the darkness anymore and he’d been forced to accept her help. Anxiety gnawed at him from the inside out, causing him to answer with a question of his own, “What did you see?”

Reyna might have pushed, but the fear in those words he’d forced out in a whisper stopped the sharp retort she’d armed herself with. And with a deep breath in then out, she told him everything. She kept her neck craned at the awkward angle to observe his features, prepared to stop instantly if he exhibited any signs of that soul crushing, all encompassing agony or sorrow she’d felt during every event she now described. The words flowed from her, tasting bitter on her tongue, yet his face was unflinching. The angular features blank and unreadable, just as his mother had looked.

Despite the sharp stinging pain in his heart at the mention of his mother and sister, despite the effort from keeping those volatile emotions from surfacing where they could drown him, Nico nearly sagged in relief. Reyna hadn’t seen Tartarus; only the one nightmare. Of all the things she could have seen, that hadn’t been one of them and thank gods for that. Because if she had… he knew she’d go insane. He was only able to withstand it each time because he was slowly growing numb to the hellscape. But while Reyna was undoubtedly stronger and braver than the average Roman demigod, he would rather die than push their nonexistent luck. Whatever Reyna could read on his face that he kept so still made her go slightly pale and he heard her open and close her mouth a few times before speaking again.

“So you’ve been experiencing all of what I saw during the jumps?”

“Yes,” he said flatly. But through those echoes that were dwindling to mere whispers down the bond they had shared moments ago, Reyna could sense, could feel , the unspoken words. 

Yes. All of that and so much more. 

She swallowed, warring with herself over asking her next question. They had begun to grow into something of friends she supposed, but he had yet to reveal anything personal about himself; only the few words about Will. And this question that she felt on the tip of her tongue yearning to be spoken was more than personal. It was not her place to ask, and yet— 

“Is it true what happened to them?” Reyna didn’t recall parting her lips, but it seemed in her hesitation, her subconscious had made an executive decision. She didn’t expect him to answer, but he took a steady breath that pushed against her back as she still leaned against his side.

“Yes.” Nico forced out the word, throwing it from himself and locking the gates behind it to bar any of that grief— grief that he’d locked outside long ago— from slithering back in. 

Reyna went silent. 

Yes, he’d been so young. Yes, he’d been choked by dust and deafened by screams. Yes, he’d crawled to his mother’s corpse. Yes, he’d seen the lifeless eyes and hollow body. Yes, he’d nearly lost his life to the heartbreak and trauma of his sister's demise.

A chill went down her spine. Reyna let the single word soak in and took a moment of silence and respect knowing full well that for a demigod like Nico, pity would not be well received. She loosed a shuddered breath.

“So what I felt… the emotions, the movements…,” still recovering from the shadows, her brain worked slowly to put all the pieces together, “those were your reactions from each memory weren’t they? Even the one that was from a nightmare?”

“Yes,” he repeated just as plainly. But there was a hoarseness to the word, a serrated edge that wedged itself into the sealed gate. Quickly, desperately he turned all of his focus onto the pain of his bicep, the radiating heat, the incessant itch from deep within, the strain of each individual stitch. He focused on the ache in his collarbones and chest, his shoulders and back that held a deep soreness he knew were bound to get worse. He focused on every ounce of pain he held within, all to keep the rising emotions at bay. But also to keep those powerful tendrils slumbering and fully ignore the foggy glass-like border in a far corner of his mind that held back a power even he did not dare disturb.

“But why do you even see those things when shadow traveling? What is it all?”

“The song of the shadows. My deepest fears, darkest nightmares, most scarring traumas.” He huffed bitterly without an ounce of amusement or humor. Opening his mouth to continue, Nico stopped himself. He shouldn't be telling her any of this. Why was he? Just as the question formed in his head, the answer emerged with it. He trusted Reyna. The word felt strange, even in his mind. But even still, this information would only cause more worry and suffering to Reyna so he simply shrugged. “I’ve gotten used to it.”

Gotten used to reliving death and despair, actually reliving it. Experiencing it as if for the first time. Reyna couldn’t keep the disdain from her face. 

After what she’d just seen, what she’d just gone through… she never wanted to do it again. And yet Nico did. He faced this ‘song of the shadows’ every time they jumped. She didn’t know whether to be in awe or disgust. She settled on rage. Rage for the Greek gods who sat in Olympus drinking nectar from jeweled goblets while Nico faced such an unfathomable reality. The rage burned away the last of her twitching and haze enough for her to ease from him and shuffle to lean against a nearby tree.

The dusk was thick and night encroaching but it was a few moments stretched into eternity before Nico fumbled through the bag at his feet and silently placed nearby branches and small logs into a neat pile. In the pale darkness Reyna felt more than saw an ancient wariness from him; chronic exhaustion and well hidden hopelessness too.

“You shouldn’t have to.”

The match struck, sending a spark hurling for the kindling nestled expertly between each piece of wood. The crackling of flame taking to bark filled the empty silence.

“Better me than someone else,” he said before stretching his legs out as he leaned against the Parthenos and hunted through the bag once more to pull out the nights ration packet and their dwindling supply of bandages. Reyna silently motioned for him to hand her the rations and she started to fix the meal while he began picking at the tape that held his well soiled bandage taught. 

They worked in silence. Sensing he wasn’t finished with his thought, Reyna kept quiet despite the ever mounting list of questions she had. A log shifted in the fire, breaking open and filling the space between them, illuminating the son of Hades’ face with a flash of light. Just as the last of the tape was removed, Nico’s fingers stilled and he considered the flames licking the night air.

“Ever since… since my mom died, and then…,” he couldn’t say her name aloud without succumbing to the emotions flickering like the embers of the flame before him, but he knew Reyna could tell the wince as he continued unwrapping his bandaging wasn’t just from the still-healing wound. “I had to learn how to adapt and survive. I had no choice but turn to the shadows. Because no matter what they do to me, they’re always there. The pain that comes with it… that’s just part of my power. Powers that help people. So I accepted long ago this was just how I was born to live.”

That’s not living, Reyna thought as she watched him peel off the soaked bandage more red than white. A worrying number of stitches had torn and fresh blood glinted in the light of the fire. He scowled at it but gave no hesitation before pulling each piece of thread from his arm. She ached to go over and help, but her legs were too weak and when she tried to push from the tree he shot her a predatory look full of exhaustion.

“Before the visions… the ‘songs’... started, I heard a voice,” she said in hopes of distracting him from the pain of his ministrations yet not expecting a response. Not when the ‘songs’ as he called them, were so personal. She had stepped into his mind, had been in his body, but still she knew she was crossing a line they hadn’t pushed yet. From what she’d heard about the son of Hades, Reyna knew he didn’t allow himself many friends for the same reason she was formal and distant to most. But he shocked them both by lifting the corner of his mouth in a half wince half smile as one of the threads he pulled on didn’t slide out easily, and spoke across the flames.

“Persephone.”

Reyna sat up taller with a raised brow. The voice floated from her memory; the paradoxical voice had sounded almost… motherly. But that didn’t make sense to Reyna. From the few hushed words Leo had told her about Persephone— as if afraid to invoke her— the goddess was a benevolent queen who kept to her relm and hadn’t been seen since her betrothal to the dark king, Hades. Reyna also gathered that Hades apparently didn’t take to trust easily— and how could he when his own brother had orchestrated his first wife’s death? It was a trait she could confirm Nico had inherited and could only imagine that the King of the Underworld would have a wife with similar values. And Reyna didn’t think that from Leo’s expression the goddess would take kindly to the son of her husband’s previous lover. So she tried to phrase her question carefully.

“She… likes you?” Reyna lifted a hand to smack herself, but caught the slightest glint of humor on Nico’s face as he removed the last of the ruined stitches and reached with his good arm for new threading.

“Yes, she does,” amusement laced the exhaustion in his words. “My mother… well as you saw, I don’t remember her very well. And while Persephone was cold to me at first, she very quickly regarded me as her own. I wouldn’t go as far to say she was my mother, but I care for her almost the same. She’s very protective of me in her own way, that’s why you heard her voice… always trying to get me to stop putting myself at risk.”

Reyna smiled at that. It was a relief to hear he had a motherly figure, gods know he deserved one. She busied herself with preparing their dinner if only to keep herself from watching the demigod stitch himself back up. “So is it true? All those things people say about her power mutating beyond that of her original ‘goddess of spring’ abilities?”

A wicked grin flashed onto Nico’s lips, eyes not leaving the wound. “The gods have always underestimated her. Let’s just say, I have a feeling one day it’ll be their biggest regret.” After the fifth attempt to thread the needle, he let out a curse of triumph before continuing,“But to answer your question, yes. Although in my mind she’s always been more of a manifestation of dark and light rather than a goddess. I think it just took her a while to realize that… took meeting my father to realize that.”

“Why does she stay so secluded? I heard she hasn’t left the Underworld since the wedding?”

“The Underworld is her home more than fields and meadows ever were, and the love my father and her share for each other… I’ve never seen anything like it before. While it’s true she hasn’t gone to Olympus since then, she does leave on occasion to roam around the surface world; she’s just really good at concealing herself.”

Reyna thought about this as the fire flickered between them. She wasn’t sure why but she pursed her lips and said, “I think I’d like to meet her someday.” 

To her surprise, Nico let out a burst of laughter. “Oh I don’t know if you could handle her. Imagine Percy’s rebellion and flair for the dramatic with barely tamed rage and power that would make you weep.” He looked up to the speckled sky as if he could see it all playing out on the canvas of stars. But then his expression grew more serious and he lowered his gaze to hers. “But, Reyna, if she ever does step foot on Olympus, run. Run and don’t look back. Because she made a vow to herself never to return and even I can’t imagine what could get her to break it.”

She nodded firmly, promising to heed the warning and went back to prodding the thick cuts of ham and vegetables atop a thin slab of rock above the flames. The warmth of the fire spread up her arm, settling deep within her core. Another log cracked apart filling the air with embers. She knew Nico was trying his best to keep quiet, but the soft moans still reached her ears as the needle punctured around the tender edges of his wound.

“Tell me about her,” she said; again in an effort to keep his mind from it all.

Suicidal quests and bloody wars, trauma and faded scars all vanished from their minds as Nico regaled stories of his visits to the Underworld. With passion and energy unlike she’d ever seen from him before, Reyna listened to the time when Hades had accidentally let Cerberus loose in Persephone’s garden, trampling her Wolfsbane blossoms and Nightshade saplings, and she’d turned the beloved beast lilac for a week. Reyna gasped at the tale of Nico falling through the unfinished floor during one of his visits to the palace, becoming the cause of his now slightly crooked nose. Hades had apparently, in a worried frenzy, been about to heal it when Persephone stepped in and said it made him look more mysterious. And how she’d cured him of seasonal allergies, claiming no one should be denied the ability to smell her roses.

Still catching her breath from the laughing fit Nico— Nico , of all people— had sent her into, he bent down to blow out the flames of their small hearth. But he paused, lungs hesitating, as a face appeared from his memory. 

Reyna watched in silence as Nico picked up his plate of rock and gently slid the uneaten portion into the flames with closed eyes and a few muttered words too low for her to make out. She’d heard that the Greeks did this, made offerings to the gods, but she’d never seen it done before. The food was gone in a flash and the fire grew, taking on a warm yellow hue that soothed her in a way she couldn't begin to explain. 

“Who was that for?” 

“You make me feel like I’m not alone.” He looked into her eyes— deep enough she could feel the obsidian orbs brush against her soul— before looking back into the flickering light, “Not everyone has that.”

“No one is ever really alone,” was all she could think to say as he blew out the flames.

Nico smiled painfully in a near grimace before settling himself down onto the solid earth; rocks and soil beneath the thin material of his sleeping bag finding each bruise and pressing in.

From the other side of the world, back warm against the radiant hearth she protected, Hestia smiled at the fresh vegetables and meat now in her palms. 

All around her, campers scurried about in preparation for the evening game of capture the flag. None paid any mind to her as she sat on the flame warmed stones surrounding the massive bonfire in the middle of the circle of cabins. Laughter filled the air, harmonizing with the crackling bark at her back, yet none could hear the beautiful music of life. 

The goddess looked down at the offering in her hands and felt eyes on her, a phenomena so rare she’d developed a heightened sense for it. Looking up, she saw a blond haired demigod approach her, the flames glowing brightly to illuminate his features as he neared. Dipping into a respectful bow, the demigod’s lips parted into a smile warmer than any hearth she’d ever nursed.

There was a deep pain in his eyes, and yet his smile did not falter as he said kindly, “You’re always welcome to come watch the chaos if you’d like. We’d love to have you.”

She had spent eons without speaking a single word and the other gods laughed at her relentlessly for it, calling her shy and timid, too weak to be considered a major goddess despite her lineage. She was sister to Zeus, Poseidon, Hades, Demeter, and Hera. And just as them, she'd been born of Rhea and Cronus. And what her siblings failed to realize was that Hestia, goddess of the hearth, may have a gentile heart but at her core she was a protector. The original protector. And if any of her flames— the hearths she fostered, or even those held within the child of Hades or this tan demigod before her— were ever threatened, she would show no mercy.

Voice hoarse from misuse but still embellished with a million accents she’d picked up on from traveling around the world, she nodded back with a smile of her own and said, “Thank you, Will Solace.”

He beamed at her and with another bow, was swallowed up by his brothers and sisters who whisked him away. And as he did, Hestia made a promise to the unwavering force behind her. If any being came for her flames, she would make sure they never felt warmth again.

She turned to her raging fire, willing the column of orange and yellow to become streaked with tendrils of vibrant red. Hestia smiled.

Chapter Text

Nico traversed the dense forest choked with trees in the predawn light of day. Every step towards the sound of a stream set the aches and pains alight, echoing throughout his entire body. He tried to focus on the perfect weather and rising sun rather than the too few hours of sleep he’d gotten or the red specks that had been on his bandage when he’d thrashed awake. 

Back at the campsite, Reyna had said nothing when he’d asked to borrow a coin from the small pouch in her backpack. Just given him a small smile, jerking her chin to where the stream that she’d spotted during her shift could be found. 

Every second, every step was time and energy he should have been spending to get ready for the next jump, especially now that there were only three more to go. He tried not to dwell on how the last would be the longest, most grueling of the entire journey. And he really tried not to think of how he’d make the jump without Reyna’s help. But after getting so little sleep that it was worrying even by his standards, Nico had to see him. Had to be reminded what he was doing this all for.

Especially after the night terror so horrifying his mind had wiped it almost entirely from memory as soon as his eyes had flown open. But he remembered one thing; claws. A vision? A warning? Or just a nightmare? The sound of bone and muscle being sliced clean open had been enough to send Nico hauling ass through the forest and emptying the contents of his stomach behind a tree far enough away that even Reyna didn’t hear. But it was fine, he was fine, everything was fine .

The treeline broke and Nico lowered himself from the grassy ledge onto the pebbles and dry mud below that ran beside a wide-mouthed stream. A mound of rocks ran through the rushing path of water, causing a miniature rapids that sent an impressive spray into the air. 

The coin disappeared the moment it hit the mist. Not a second later did the iris message flicker to life, revealing Will making his way through the bustling halls of the sickbay. Nico didn’t know how the son of Apollo didn’t trip or fall with how completely absorbed he was by the papers in his hands. Nico felt his chest tighten; he’d forgotten just how breathtaking the demigod was.

“Will?” Nico finally got out when he could remember how to speak. His boyfriend glanced up quickly with a kind yet dismissive reply before returning to the records in his hands as he ambled down the hall continuing to mutter medical jargon to himself. And Nico counted the seconds— one… two… three— before Will froze, lifting his head slowly to peak over his papers in disbelief at the familiar voice. The voice he hadn’t heard since their fight all those days ago.

“Oh my g-” his mouth went agape, eyes spreading wide and Nico couldn’t tell from the mist of the iris message, but it almost looked like tears welled in them. “ Nico? ”

“If you’re busy, don’t worry about it I can call after the next j-”

“No!” Will blurted, catching the attention of several nearby healers. He gave an awkward smile of apology to them and turned to the nearest of his siblings, handing him the papers and asked politely if he’d take care of the patient. With one look at who was on the iris message, Will’s brother gave him a wicked grin before waving to Nico and heading off to the patient’s room.

Will raised a finger to ask Nico to hold on as he rushed through the medbay before pushing through the double doored entrance. When he’d finally reached a private spot— which Nico instantly recognized as his tree, the one he famously sat under whenever he wasn’t training or in his cabin— Will didn’t hold back his excitement any longer. Practically vibrating with happiness at the sight of his boyfriend, Will couldn’t even get any words out. 

Nico laughed, a sound Will wished he could capture in a bottle and keep until he returned, and said, “Glad to see you too, mio amore.”

Gods above, Will was going to faint. Nico knew how much Will swooned whenever he spoke Italian— the growls he let out in the bedroom might make Will blind with lust, but the Italian… that was more of a caress around his heart and Will might be the rougher of the two when it got down to it, but Gods Nico had a way with words. Will felt a blush spread across his face before leaning closer to the mist with narrowed methodical eyes.

“How are you? Are you hurt?”

Nico had carefully selected his clothing for the day, choosing a black shirt with long sleeves to conceal the extensive bandages wrapped around his bicep despite the warmth of the morning. He’d changed into it behind a tree so Reyna wouldn’t see… wouldn’t see… well it didn’t matter, he wouldn’t let her worry even if she already knew about the stab wound. But the rest of his body… it didn’t matter. It didn’t. He was fine.

The injury she did know of hadn’t stopped throbbing and the freshly repaired stitches itched with a vengeance— Reyna had been right, Imperial Gold was no joke. But he didn’t want that smile to fade or worry to creep onto Will’s face, not when he was already putting so much on the healer as it was. 

“I’m doing fine, thanks.” Nico kept his tone light and nodded through the mist, “And you?”

Will pursed his lips and Nico thought he’d seen through the lie, that he’d press. But the seriousness broke, spreading into a smile that made Nico’s heart strain more than the screaming aches in his body.

“Everyone at Camp is getting preparing for battle; classes have ramped up intensity. The Ares and Athena campers are like never seen anymore, they're busy planning out every possible scenario. Moral will definitely improve when Percy, Annabeth and the others arrive. Whenever I'm off duty at the medbay I've got meetings in the Big House with the other head counselors and Chiron. Apparently Piper sent some messages to Octavian, but there's no telling if that snake'll actually heed our warnings. But I'm doing good,” Will said. And he knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t stop himself from adding, “Be a lot better if you were here though.”

Nico’s shoulders slumped, head falling between his shoulders slightly to conceal the wince at disturbing his battered form. He couldn't imagine what Camp was like right now; they'd seen war before, but not without Percy and Annabeth there for preparation or to lead them. And Nico should be by Will's side right now. He should be there. Lifting his head after a moment Nico said, “Yeah, I know. I’m sorry, Will. I wish there’d been another way, I really do. You know that right?”

Will didn’t answer at first, lost in the sound of his boyfriend’s voice, the defined angular muscles he knew were beneath the dark fabric of his shirt, the sharp edges of his face. His heart pulled, straining with need to touch those worried lines, smooth them out with kisses and feel the stress melt in his embrace. It was only when Nico’s voice ceased and the lines in his face deepened that Will realized he’d been staring, that Nico had been waiting for a response.

“The world doesn’t deserve you, shadow,” Will breathed.

It was Nico’s turn to blush, the too-pale skin tinged with pink. Will knew the iris message was contorting the image slightly, that colors were slightly muted, and he wished he could see the intensity of Nico’s onyx irises. They were like miniature galaxies, each one holding gemstone colored flecks within the midnight circles that were only visible if one cared enough to look. He could stare into them for hours. But through the mist they just looked dark— ordinary even— not voids of life and death, evidence of all the demigod had seen, and all that he had survived. Rather than become suffocated with the fear that Will might never see them, see him again, Will’s memory sparked.

“Styx, I almost forgot about the news,” Will said elated, desperately needing Nico’s smile to return. “I found the place!”

Nico huffed in amusement before raising a brow. “Gonna need a little more than that.”

“The house we’ve always dreamt of, I found it.”

Nico’s eyes widened, “What? Where?” 

“Other side of Long Island, just a little ways south of Camp. The cottage is the perfect size for the two of us… maybe one or two more… there’s a yard that’s not too big but plenty for a hellhound, and the view, oh gods Nico, the view .” As he continued explaining in vivid detail what the property looked like, Nico could see it. He couldn’t help the flicker of hope in his chest and laughed when Will kept sliding in mentions of ‘little ones’. They’d talked about it before— having kids when they were a bit older— and he’d been warming to the idea. But he’d told Will only when the two of them could get his night terrors under control again, and only if they could ensure their safety. And although they’d discussed having a family of their own before, Nico had never felt such a strong yearning for it until now. 

He was lost in Will’s eyes, in his smile and excited hand gestures, and Nico could see it all. See them standing across from each other at an alter of Sunflower and Nightshade, their friends and family in the crowd; see them saying goodbye to Chiron and the others; see then unpacking their few boxes and walking through the cottage door for the very first time as husbands; see them sitting on the stairs of the porch, watching with lemonade in one palm, each others hand in the other, as two children ran around the yard with the neighbor’s kids chasing a hellhound disguised as a Doberman. He didn’t realize the coolness on his cheek wasn’t the mist but his own tears until Will’s voice, that ethereal sound that made his heart race— made his heart dream and want and hope— trail off.  

“Nico?” Will hated the mist, hated the ocean between them, hated everything that kept Will from reaching out and holding the most vital shard of his soul. “Hey, you okay there?”

“It sounds perfect.” Swiping at the tears roughly with his good arm, Nico swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Can’t wait to see it.”

Will beamed, nearly causing Nico to melt. “You’re gonna love it. Oh, and I was crunching some numbers with one of Annabeth’s cousins, and we figured out that with my savings from the past summers I’ve been working as a lifeguard and interning at that local hospital, plus what you said you’ve got… we could have the place by this summer.”

Nico blinked, “Wait really?”

“Yeah, and even left overs for decorating! I’ve been working with the Demeter kids in the strawberry fields every weekend and they’ve taught me a ton about gardening— I needed to catch up to your years of lessons from Persephone, and Lacy from Aphrodite’s cabin showed me some tricks to interior design for small spaces. And…” Will stopped himself, realizing he’d forgotten to breathe. “Sorry, I’m rambling.”

There was that laugh again, the chime that made Will want to jump through the mist and hug him until his arms were sore. “No, you’re doing great. I’m sold. But we shouldn’t move out of Camp just yet.”

Will nodded in thoughtful agreement, golden hair the sun’s echo, “You’re right, I was thinking we can just spend summers there until we’re ready. I found a great hospital that’s got a certification track for nursing that I can apply to for some extra cash till we fully move in.” He forced another breath amidst the flow of information and although Nico’s face was alight with the softest of smiles— a smile Will knew was reserved just for him— Will said, “We can figure out logistics once you’re back, but I was trying to get a lot of it done so you could have something to look forward to.”

Nico held Will’s gaze, “I already do.”

Will blushed before composing himself and silencing the roaring in his blood. He nodded towards the mist, “So how’s it been going? Shadow traveling, camping out and everything?”

“Actually much better than I’d been expecting,” Nico admitted, “I’ve done what you suggested and we’ve been camping out in National Parks, sticking to the forests. Plenty of shadows from the trees at all hours of the day.”

“Run into any trouble?”

Nico hesitated too long that Will gave him a ‘cut the bullshit’ face. Nico shrugged, grinding his teeth at the motion. “Uh, yeah actually but just one. It was fine though, we handled it.”

“Mhmmm… sensing some hesitation there, shadow.”

“Hey it was nothing,” he raised a hand defensively, but it was the wrong one, the injured one, and he let out a grunt that made Will sit up, alert as a watchdog.

“Funny ‘cause that didn’t sound like ‘nothing’.”

Nico groaned in defeat, cursing his stupidity. “There was a Roman demigod, some sadist with a grudge against Reyna for banishing him. He and a group of his legionnaires tried to stop us. Reyna lent me her power and I banished them myself… permanently.”

Will had learned long ago that he had to listen to every word and tone of Nico’s voice in order to extract a full story. Because while Nico had never lied to him, Will knew he’d go to great lengths to withhold information if he thought it might worry Will. Meaning, as he listened, Will’s attention snagged on something. “You let Reyna share her power? You’d never do that unless something was wrong with you.”

Jaw clenching in a way that sent fear shooting through Will, Nico swallowed and said in no more than a whisper, “Yeah, well I kinda got stabbed.”

That fear morphed. Anger welled inside of him, not at Nico— no, he knew he was only trying his best to keep Will from worrying— but at whatever asshole had done it. From the flash of rage on his face, Will could tell Nico had made whoever it was pay dearly. Good.

“Gods, Nico I’m sorry. Romans, huh? So that means Imperial Gold… you disinfected and stitched it before wrapping right?”

“Yeah, Reyna’s an expert at treating these kinds of things, she did a good job stitching it up.” No need to reveal that he’d burst her work and redone them last night. He only flashed a sly grin and added, “Not as perfect as yours, of course.”

“Are you trying to flatter me, shadow?”

“Maybe.”

Will stuck his tongue out and much to his surprise, Nico copied the gesture. Pride blossomed in Will’s chest at the bark of laughter that burst through the mist a second later.

“And how is Ms. Praetor doing?”

“She’s good, you know me, I’m trying to keep as much stress off her during the jumps as I can.”

“Yeah, I know.” Will tried not to think of all the extra strain he was putting on himself as a result of that kind heart of his. Will was going to say something but the sun shifted in front of Nico and he could suddenly see dark circles under his eyes so dark they looked bruised. “And what about sleep?”

Nico got quiet. “Um, it’s… well you know.”

“That bad, huh?”

Nico nodded and when he spoke, his voice was shaky. “They’ve been getting more intense, more real. Got trapped a few days ago,” he didn’t need to explain the term or all it entailed, for Will had been witness to more than a few nights that Nico was unable to escape, unable to wake up. Nico fell into silence again and said nothing for long enough Will opened his mouth. But Nico looked away and said, “And there’s this one… it’s repeated twice now. Unlike all the rest, when I wake up… I can only remember one thing. Claws.”

Will raised a palm to his mouth, trying and failing to conceal his concern. He opened his mouth to try and say something, anything to make it better, but Nico beat him to it as he ran a hand through his disheveled hair. 

“Don’t worry, it’ll all be over soon. Just three more jumps.”

“Promise me something, Nico. On the Styx. Promise me you’ll take Reyna’s help on these, I know they’re long ones and you aren’t nearly as fresh as the first bunch.”

“I did,” Nico whispered. The haunted tone had Will stumble.

“You did what?”

“I let her help me. With this last one.” He looked up again, meeting Will’s eyes, dropping all guards, all walls. Letting him see the sheer terror on his face. “Anything else, Will. I’ll promise you anything else, but not this. Please don’t make me promise you this.”

Because to a child of Hades, a promise was an unbreakable law; a vow that might as well be punishable by death with the way Nico treated them. Although it killed Will, literally shattered something inside that he knew wouldn’t be mended until he was back in Nico’s arms, he nodded slowly. “Okay, Nico. Okay. Just please be careful.”

Nico nodded, lips pressed together in a thin line. But he willed the levity of it all to vanish as a smile spread across his face. Sensing the conversation was finished, they both remained silent, not wanting the moment to come where they’d have to say goodbye. And so they sat there, an entire ocean between them yet together all the same. They stole glances but neither made a sound. Because when they were together, they didn’t have to be anyone or anything. They could just be . Will missed that feeling of freedom and from the look on Nico’s face— the longing that tugged at his features— he knew Nico felt the same. And for the moment, they were the only two beings in the world. There was no impending threat of war or Echidna's beasts or possibility of Gaea rising; there was no consideration of the possibility Nico might not return in time for the Parthenos to do its job... or that he might not return at all. There was none of that, just Will and Nico and the bond that wove their two spirits together.

“When you get here,” Will finally said after clearing his throat, “I hope you know I’m gonna hold you and not let go for at least a week.”

Nico gave a sly grin, “And do you plan on feeding me?”

Will’s eyelids drooped, voice smooth and sultry as he whispered through the mist, “Don’t you worry, I plan on doing a lot more than just feeding you, shadow.”

Oh. Oh . Nico choked on his words and cleared his throat to try again, only able to get out an inquisitive, “Oh really?”

Will nodded, “You’ll be pampered, every need cared for. Every need.”

Someone shouted out to Will— which Nico was boundlessly grateful to have a moment to remember how to form words. Will swore colorfully under his breath.

“Duty calls?”

Will nodded but made no effort to get up. He just took in Nico, soaking up every inch of his perfect face that seemed chiseled from pure white stone. It was a wonder no scars marked it when the rest of his body hadn’t been spared of the savage lines of past wounds.

“What are you doing?”

“Stargazing.”

Nico let out a laugh. “Uhuh, sounds like you should get going.”

“Fineeee,” he groaned, rising to his aching feet. 

“Hey Will?”

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

It wasn’t the first time he’d heard Nico say that, but it didn’t stop his breath from catching, didn’t calm the butterflies in his stomach or the tightness in his chest every time he said those words.

“I love you too.”

Nico was still staring at the mist long after the iris message disconnected and the spray of water was just that, and not holding his light, his life, his universe. Nico let out a groan much like Will’s as he rose, and swayed, and steadied against the ledge of grass. He would make these next few jumps, he would get Reyna there safely, he would deliver the Parthenos, he would help defeat Echidna, and he would see Will again. Or so help him, Nico would drown the world in darkness.

Power in each elegant stride, Hera made her way through the palace halls. Walks were her only source of joy these days; the only escape from the insufferable arguing of the council room and her chambers that were always so quiet, so empty. 

When she was in those meetings, seated beside Zeus in her throne upon the dais, she was not a queen. She was an ornament. The other gods and goddesses knew; knew but said nothing when she ordered them around, not while she wore that crown that felt more and more like a brand marking her as Zeus’ property. No more than a piece of cattle with a burned mark on its rear. And when she sat in her chambers with nothing but the jewels and gold and herself, she was nothing, no one. 

Oh how she yearned to walk the gold cobbled streets of Olympus, to feel the breeze lick her face if but for a day, but she could not. For Zeus had forbidden her from leaving the castle grounds. He thought by keeping her locked within the unforgiving marble walls that he’d forced her into submission, that in another show of his almighty power even his queen was no match for his might. And she let him think that.

Because what he didn’t know— what no one knew— was how the stone had become her greatest friend and the precious metals her mentors, for they had taught her invaluable things. Be still, be patient, be brilliant, be cunning. 

The day she began her evening walks was the day she became more than an immortal maiden locked in a palace with a hollow crown; she became a starved lioness kept in a cage with nothing to do but sharpen the claws of her rage on the granite as she walked. She would wait as the stone had taught her. She would observe the dynamics and tensions of each being in those long meetings— who resisted the most, who would challenge her, and what topics riled their passion the most. She would wait until Zeus failed, until whatever plans he’d foolishly begun forming without her— believing he was sly in avoiding her, believing himself a true king when seeking out the Fates though it had been her subtle yet effective comments to spark the idea in the first place. 

Yes. She would wait, would prowl, would lurk through these hallowed halls. And when Zeus stumbled, when he fell, she would be there. 

Under her rule, there would be no opposition. No arguing council rooms, no bickering in court. Where Zeus had been a cloud occasionally riled into a thunderstorm, she would be impenetrable stone, as unforgiving as the granite beneath her feet, as cunning as raw uncut gold. The entitled gods and goddesses that had been given free reign for far too long would bend to her will. 

Hera, Queen of the Gods, smiled into the dark passageways, the clicking of her heels against the stone echoing with endless power. When Zeus fell, she would be waiting.

A knock on the door had Percy dragging himself through the depths of sleep. He vaguely registered the slight tremor in his hands as he hauled himself from the bed and staggered for the door, rubbing his eyes hard enough to see stars. The table he’d used to lock himself in was out of the way in one second, door open the next. Recoiling slightly, Percy squinted in the flickering light that berated him from behind the demigod before him. 

The smile on Piper’s lips slowly fell as she looked from his face to his right hand. A hand that Percy looked down to see was holding Riptide as the other gripped the door frame to keep him steady while the haze of sleep wore off slowly.

With a sheepish smile and incoherent mumbled apology, Percy lowered the blade, setting it on the table he’d pushed to the side. Gods above, from the way she was staring, he knew he must look crazy. He shook his head in a vain attempt to clear it.

“Uh, hey Pipes,” Percy ran a hand over his face then up through his hair, “what- uh… Did ‘ya need someth…,” his hand stilled as he looked down again to find he wasn’t wearing a shirt or even pants, just a pair of dark blue boxers. The mess of words were lost as he looked over his shoulder in a jerking motion that sent his head spinning. 

By the bed were his clothes strewn about as if he’d overheated, taken them off, and thrown them. But not just taken them off— the fabric was ripped. 

Percy slowly turned back to Piper, using both hands to brace against the door frame this time. His body felt too heavy, head too light. Is the hallway getting smaller? He didn’t remember doing that… could barely remember what had come after the Fates threw him from their vision. He’d been unable to fall back asleep… then he’d had a nightmare… but he couldn’t remember what it had been about; couldn’t recall the vision he’d been in the midst of that had been interrupted by the knocking.

“Percy? Percy, what’s wrong?”

Not ‘are you okay’, because he was obviously not okay. The farthest from okay. Especially when a voice— no, three in perfect synchronicity— suddenly threatened to split his head open again, and again, and again. They didn’t stop, wouldn’t quiet. Like a drum they sounded. Constant, unrelenting, over and over again. 

Percy’s legs buckled and he dropped to his knees, hands clamped against both ears as he pulled his head into his thighs. He didn’t know if he was screaming or if his bared teeth were just open without sound because they didn’t stop— the voices, those two words— chanting like a curse. Like a prayer. 

They did this to him. The Fates. They did this. Always the puppet, always at the beck and call of the gods or whichever primordial deity wanted a turn at him. He was their toy, he was their weapon to use and torment and abuse. They turned him into a scythe and wherever they pointed— across the globe, through Tartarus, on and off battlefields— he was expected to go. To kill for them. To bleed for them.

He could feel the vibrations in the floorboards beneath his knees as doors flew open down the hall and demigods rushed to him, but it didn’t matter. There was nothing they could do. The gods wanted him, they claimed him, he was theirs. And Percy, he was tired. So so so tired .

But then the chanting stopped, replaced by a memory of the Second’s slithering voice. Because there had been something whispered right before he’d been thrown from their clutches. Something he hadn’t been able to fully hear until now— until his head had been split open by those other damning words.

“Do not fret, God Killer, we will not tell Zeus. The cycle must repeat, ‘tis written in the string.”

Zeus. Why would they say Zeus? And what cycle? What did they know? What was he planning? None of it made sense, what was happening, what were they making him do?  What t-

Hands. There were hands on him. He had to get loose, had to get free. Eyes clamped shut, he ripped one hand from his ear and made to raise it, but before he could do anything… 

Every spiraling thought, every chant, every slithering voice, every splitting throb deep within his head stopped. Though his eyes were already clamped shut, everything went dark, no light shone through his closed lids from the hallway. The last thing he felt was his side crashing to the ground as he plunged into the deepest of sleep.

The word came out with such force that everyone crammed in the hall swayed on their feet, a few even reaching out to catch themselves. Nothing had worked and the screaming, gods her ears were actually bleeding . Everyone had been shouting— Percy in cries of agony unlike anything she’d ever heard, Annabeth in warning for them all to stay back in case he wielded that ungodly power, and the rest in wide eyed fear as they tried to think of what to do. So Piper did the only thing she knew how and pushed Annabeth aside, grasped Percy by the shoulders and yelled at the top of her lungs, “SLEEP”

The word had barely left her lips when he’d lost all consciousness. Once his body collided against the floor with a sickening thud, Percy didn’t move. Annabeth lunged forward, checking to make sure he was breathing and when she found a pulse, remained on the floor beside him and let out a shuttered breath.

“What… what just happened?” Leo’s eyes were wide. He didn’t realize he’d grabbed Frank’s wrist during the chaos, but Frank didn’t mention it or shake him off so Leo didn’t remove it. Though he did notice Hazel was doing the same. Frank was like a rock, a steady calming presence that made them both feel slightly more at ease despite what had just occurred. 

Annabeth’s eyes were haunted, desperate, as she spoke those words sacrilegious to all children of Athena, “I have no idea,” then looked up to Piper. “What happened?”

All eyes turned to her. Shaking her head she recounted the moments before all the shouting, “I- I don’t know. I came to wake him— he said the other day he’d teach me some advanced swordplay this morning— but when he came to the door… he seemed lost, disoriented.” Piper tried not to shutter as she remembered what he’d looked like. Face flushed, eyes wild, a gleam in them from the glow behind her, but nervous and… frantic. All things she’d never associate with the demigod, things she’d never believe capable if she hadn’t seen for herself. The confusion that had been in his face was so unlike him it didn’t settle easily with her. Sure Annabeth had told them all of his current… situation… but still, she hadn’t fully considered the levity of it all. She shook her head again, “I asked what was wrong, then he fell and started screaming.”

They all looked at the fallen demigod, sweat echoing the brazer light filtering in from the hallway. It took Jason, Leo, and Frank to get him back onto the bed; his unconscious body heavier than they’d been expecting. Jason didn’t know what to feel. Sure he knew Percy trained a lot, but still. The sheer muscle on him without appearing hulking was… impressive. Even without powers, Percy was a force to be reckoned with. And if what Annabeth had told them was really true… Jason didn’t want to think of what that would mean. Nico’s voice floated through his memory, “ Be glad Percy’s on our side ”. To stop himself from getting lost in worry over Nico and Reyna, he glanced up to Piper, catching her wiping at her ears. The creme colored sleeve came away streaked with a color like rust. She felt his eyes on her and gave a slight nod that told him she was alright.

“Hang on a sec,” Hazel’s voice sliced through the unnatural silence that had settled into the room. Chin between her two fingers, they all turned to listen. “He was holding his ears… almost like he was hearing something.”

A blanket of silence wrapping around them all once more until Piper mused, “Annabeth, does he ever talk in his sleep?”

Those grey eyes flashed, indicating her wheels were turning even as she nodded slowly, “Usually just mumbles.”

Piper took a step closer to the unconscious demigod. She’d never seen him so still, so motionless. Like Leo, Percy was always in constant motion, always smiling, always cracking jokes or making others happy. She watched the shallow rise and fall of his chest. He’s not dead. Just asleep. You put him to sleep.

“Pipes?” Jason whispered as if afraid he’d wake Percy. But her charmspeak had done its job, and if it held then maybe... “What’re you thinking?”

“Just wondering if I can…,” her voice trailed off as she placed a hand on either side of Percy’s face. Even in sleep, his jaw felt strong beneath her palms. The others were silent as she braced herself, bringing a knee against the mattress. While she was no child of Hypnos with the ability to navigate dreams or memories… maybe she could have Percy navigate them for her.

Hazel had told Piper the first time she’d seen Percy she had mistaken him for a god. It wasn’t hard to see why. Piper loved Jason with all her heart, but it didn’t mean she couldn’t appreciate the beauty before her— she was a child of Aphrodite after all. And the gifts she did possess told her that everyone in the room was in awe at the demigod, at the raw power his body conveyed even in sleep. She’d never been an artist, not like Hazel, but she was struck by the urge to draw the contours of his body. With considerable effort, Piper kept her eyes from drifting to the chiseled caverns of his abs or the scars adorning his arms and legs, focusing instead on the task at hand. The charmspeak tingled on her tongue as she urged it into her voice. “Percy, what happened?”

He was so still she grew afraid her previous command had been too much and just as her lips parted to try again, the sheets sighed beneath him as he shifted atop them with a wince. A word slipped through his lips as his breath hitched, but she didn’t understand.

“Scared,” Annabeth offered softly. Piper flicked her eyes to see her wringing her hands together. “He said he was scared.”

Piper nodded thanks and turned back. “What scared you?”

Eyes still clamped shut, Percy writhed beneath her as if fighting the answer. Jason and Frank stepped forward to restrain him, but Piper shot a warning glance and tried again, coating her words more thickly this time. “Calm, stay calm.” He did. She pressed into his temples, nails almost digging into the tan skin. “Good, that’s good. Now tell me what scared you.”

His head shook and another tremor caused his limbs to twitch but he whispered again. Piper stayed focused, not tearing her gaze away as Annabeth translated after a moment.

“The Fates. They spoke to him.”

Piper felt more than saw Annabeth and Frank look at each other in that way they did when the children of war and strategy were thinking as one. But that could wait. What if the Fates had told him something vital about the war to come, or the prophecy that seemed to damn them all. They needed more information. Raising her voice slightly to allow her charmspeak to deepen its lull, Piper said, “What did the Fates say?”

This time she didn’t need Annabeth to tell her the word tumbling from his lips. No no no no . He thrashed violently and her hands nearly lost their hold. Usually she didn’t need to make physical contact when compelling people, but she’d found that direct touch only strengthened her abilities. She gave a quick nod to Jason who lurched forward, signaling each of them to take part of a limb and hold Percy down. If he fell off the bed and woke up, it was all over.

There were grunts from them all as Percy bucked, arching in the air against their iron holds. His head thrashed from side to side, feral snarls escaping his lips but no words, no answer to Piper’s demand. 

She met her friends eyes to signal she was about to try again, and when they each gave a nod that they were ready, she opened her mouth and— 

All around them, the ship lurched violently. They were suspended in midair for a heartbeat as waves pounded against the far wall. Piper didn’t look away from Percy’s face, but she heard Hazel gasp and Frank swear as they looked out the porthole. The ocean raged, what felt like massive waves slamming into the sides of the ship. Wood groaned, wind howled; far above the sounds of masts being berated by vicious saltwater spray could be heard and beneath them, the undeniable sound of a massive oar snapping. Percy was going to rip the ship apart. Leo didn’t dare remove his hold on Percy’s right leg, but he bellowed over the maelstrom, “Festus, get us in the air!”

They stumbled into one another as they fought to maintain balance while getting thrown this way and that, caught in the currents of Percy’s unknowing creation. But finally, finally they were lifted into the sky. Although the room stabilized, Percy was unrelenting in his fight against the restraints. 

Piper opened her mouth yet again when something tugged at her. There were gasps around her but she couldn’t pay attention to them, couldn’t pay attention to the stiffening of her limbs or the cold thickness trickling down her nose. With the little control she had left, Piper let her nails sink into the sides of his head as she commanded with a growl of her own, “ Tell me what they said, Percy.”

“No!” he roared. Piper couldn’t move her hands, couldn’t move her anything. Jason looked at her in horror and made to release Percy and go to her. But he did no such thing as the daughter of Aphrodite— blood dripping from her nose in a steady stream, color leaching from her face— pinned Jason with a look that promised death if he suggested she stop. They needed answers, and by gods she was going to get them. So with the last remaining willpower she had over her own body she drew blood, his skin breaking beneath her manicured nails.

“TELL ME!”

Again, every person in the room was drawn to her, every one of them with parted lips at the levity of her charmed words. Her whole body ached with the wrongness that held her in place and tears flowed from Percy’s clamped eyes. Eyes that, without warning, flew open. That awful sensation that had held Piper released and she stumbled backwards, his blood beneath her fingernails.

Percy went completely still, muscles corded and stiff. Taking in his surroundings with labored breathing and sweat coating him with a faint glow from the light filtering through the open doorway, no one spoke. There was a sharp pain at his temples, but not like the splitting headache from before. His brows furrowed but everything came rushing back to him when he turned his head and beheld Piper.

no no no no nO NO

“Percy,” Hazel's voice was soft, so soft coming from the other side of the bed, but he couldn’t take his eyes from Piper. From the bloody trail beneath her nose. Then he noticed her fingers and everything became crystal clear. The stinging on either side of his head, the blood, the tension in the room, even how they were no longer sailing through the ocean. Piper stood like a deer caught in his gaze as Hazel’s words came out barely more than a whisper, “We were trying to h-”

“Don’t you ever do that again.” When his voice cracked on that word, the coldhearted demand turned to that of a broken plea. “Please, just… you don’t want to know what they said.”

Knowing there was nothing he could ever say to atone for what he’d just done, knowing there was nothing capable of washing away the image they all had of him now, Percy pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his tear drenched eyes.  

He didn’t move when everyone filed out the door silently, didn’t open his eyes until the door shut behind them, didn’t speak as Annabeth came over and sat on the edge of his bed, reaching out hesitantly for his hand. He hated that second of hesitation more than anything, but took it gently. She caressed the back of his hand with her thumb but his eyes were locked on her face, watching every detail for any signs of fear, of pain. But there was none. She watched their clasped hands with love, with softness. Her eyes twinkled in the way they always did when she was deep in thought, but at least there was no fear or pain. 

Silently, she reached beside her to the small nightstand where a cup of water that had by some miracle not been tipped over during the chaos sat. She held it out, urging him to take it, but he didn’t move. 

I deserve these, his eyes said. But there it was, a flash of pain in her eyes that had him reach out without moving to extract the water held within. His core tightened from the delicate control and used the droplets to heal the crescent shaped slices. After returning the water to the cup in Annabeth’s hand, he almost let himself relax as her features smoothed out. Percy didn’t know what made him say it, but he whispered into the near darkness, “They called for me… took me. I didn’t have a choice.”

Annabeth met his gaze, those endless sea green eyes, and slid onto the mattress beside him. It didn’t matter to her that he was coated in sweat, or that his marble body made for an uncomfortable pillow, she rested her head above his heart and wrapped an arm across his torso. Scars and ridges pressed into her arm and chest, but she didn’t mind. Nor did she care as she felt tears wet the top of her head when he told her everything. Of the Fates and their cryptic ways, of their words and unsettling interest in him. He stopped often to wrap his arms around her tighter; not to an uncomfortable degree but an embrace to ground him in the present, to remind him of the universe he held between them.

“I couldn’t tell the others, Annabeth. You can but I- I just… I can’t…,” she tilted her head to see the raw emotion etched in every feature, the fear in those brilliant blue eyes. And she understood. 

Percy’s fatal flaw… loyalty. He was loyal to the end, until it ripped him apart and threatened everything he was. Until now, he’d always made it work, always kept a leash on himself but now… his own body was against him, this power inside not under his complete control. And that fear burning bright as rings of hellfire told her everything she needed to know. He was scared that without control of himself, he’d hurt those he was most loyal to. Because with this ability… he himself was threatening his fatal flaw. The flaw that he would die for, kill for, to protect his friends and family. But what was he to do when the threat wasn’t from an enemy… what was he to do when the threat was him .

Annabeth reached up and drew a finger across his powerful jaw, the tension melted beneath her touch. Before she could say anything, exhaustion gripped him. Percy was asleep.  A thought she’d drowned in the depths of her mind until now floated up, up, up. If Piper’s charmspeak hadn’t been able to stop him… then what could? And what the Fates had told him… what did it all mean? Zeus… a cycle… Gods, between that and the battlefield they neared with each passing hour, would Percy ever catch a break? Or was the universe hellbent on destroying him?

Again, Annabeth pleaded to her mother.

Again, there was no response.

Chapter Text

“They wed, what twelve years ago?” Zeus inquired from where he’d been standing by the windowsill for the past twenty minutes. The God King had been feigning interest in her responses to his lighthearted smalltalk but had finally worked up to changing the route of their conversation toward the true intentions of his visit. “How much could she have changed in such a short amount of time? Twelve years is nothing in the span of an immortal life.”

“Ohhh I don’t know,” Aphrodite drawled absentmindedly in that tone of hers that practically dripped with highfalutin disinterest. She extended an unmarred porcelain arm to observe the fingernails of her delicate hand as their colored paint changed. Zeus reined his impatience as she took her time testing each color against the richly toned fabric making up the layered skirts of her ornate gown. Her face was scrunched in deep artistic contemplation, but then she let out a satisfied sigh and said breathlessly, “Oh, look at this.” She held out the chosen color for him to see, “The mortals call this one ‘Royal Blue’, I quite like it.”

“It’s very nice,” Zeus said in a tone that made it obvious he couldn't care less. Her breathtakingly gorgeous features contorted to that of mock offense.

She deepened her voice, “ ‘I am a mighty god who doesn’t like girly things’.” She tutted disapprovingly. “Hyper masculinity isn’t very attractive, I hope you know.”    

“I haven’t had any complaints,” he said gruffly.

The goddess rolled her eyes, utterly unimpressed by his puffed out chest and the golden crown atop his head. “Why of course not; the women you bed only do so out of fear or because you are king.”   

Zeus turned fully, the dying light of dawn cold against his back through the mosaic window panes. His eyes narrowed. “Mind your words, Aphrodite.”    

“Now where’s the fun in that,” she smirked, knowing the insolence and refusal to be intimidated always got under the king’s immortal skin. 

He grunted again and she wondered if he knew how similar the sound was to those preening, self-righteous males of the mortal lands who thought women were objects to be claimed and sex a game to be won. 

Aphrodite plopped down on the golden chaise lounge, dress crinkling as she sunk into the plush velvet cushions. It was a wonder she could breathe with the heavily beaded bodice and cinched corset. “As much as I would like to stay and spar with you through the night, I have somewhere to be.”

“And where might that be.”

“I don’t see how that is any of your business.” Zeus bristled but before he could so much as utter a word, she gave a coy smile. “Oh don’t look so put out, it really wrinkles your forehead. And to answer your question, a lot can happen in a few years. Heartbreak can take a mere second and change a person— even a god— for the rest of their lives. So I think you are very ignorant indeed to think the Queen is not capable of drastic change in such a ‘short’ amount of time. Especially with the King at her side.” She paused admiring the jewels sewn into her gown to look up, gazing at nothing with a dreamy look in her eye. “What a pair they make. It’s very rare for such a pure love to exist; they complement one another so well.”

Zeus let out a huff, “Do you need to be reminded that I am the one true king, and Hera queen?”

“Yes, yes of course,” the assorted bracelets on her wrist chimed as she waved a hand dismissively. “Who can keep track of all those semantics these days?” Then her twinkling eyes, so captivating in their purple streaked hue, narrowed with a calculating gleam. “Why the sudden interest? I seem to recall you laughing at Demeter when she tried to order you to call off their engagement all those years ago.”

Zeus responded with a question of his own. “There have been rumors that the few times Persephone has been seen topside, she visits your husband. Does this not anger you?”

She rose in an elegant woosh of layered skirts and diamonds like stars against the dark fabric. Moving to the vanity with feline grace, she hovered a palm over an assortment of embellished perfume bottles. Her voice, tone bored and uninterested, floated over a bare shoulder wrapped in low hanging silk. “What is there to be angry about? They speak of trinkets and dead things and pastries from the human lands. They are friends. Hephaestus does not chain me to his side, so why would I ever do so to him? Relationships of all types— friends, lovers— are important.” She sniffed at one of the bottles, nose scrunching yet still unimaginably beautiful and she set it back down to reach for another. “They never would, but even if the two of them slept together, I could care less. Because at the end of the day, we come back to each other. Hephaestus is kind to me with a softness I will never comprehend, and in my own way I love him for that.” She looked at Zeus with an intensity that made him struggle not to shift on his feet beneath her leveled gaze. “That is what baffles you about Hades and Persephone isn’t it? Well all I can tell you is this: it took a long time for them to notice one another, but I have never met nor created two beings so utterly infatuated with one another. It’s so raw and unapologetic, like they see and understand each other’s souls.” She snatched up a bottle with a sapphire sunk into the glass and sprayed puffs of apple scented mist around her.

Zeus considered her words as she moved to a rack of diamond encrusted purses and clutches. She selected one with far less fuss than the other items and turned to him, her lips now painted a dark sultry red that reminded him of the ink of Persephone’s signature. He was lost in the connection and didn’t realize he’d been staring with narrowed eyes until Aphrodite cleared her throat with an eloquence only capable by the goddess of love.

“Are you going to stand there brooding all night? Shouldn’t you be selecting a nymph or two for your evening entertainment?” And with a knowing smile too sweet to be genuine added,
“Or do you plan on spending the night with your wife for a change?”

When Zeus responded only with a stormy look, Aphrodite strode for the door, hips swaying to a seductive tune only she could hear. “A lovely chat, but I really must be going. If you think Ares gets mad during council meetings, you should see him when I show late for dinner.”

And with that, Aphrodite was gone in a cloud of apple scented perfume and glittering diamonds. Zeus stalked off for his private chambers where, as she’d guessed, two nymphs were already warming his bed.

After about an hour of thrashing back and forth in his bed, rearranging his pillows incessantly, and throwing his sheets to the ground followed by the constricting fabric of his shirt, Percy hefted himself from his bed and stormed out the door. Exhaustion tugged at him as he banged on each bedroom door throughout the hall, but adrenaline began pumping through him that drowned out the effects of sleep deprivation as he climbed the stairs to the deck.  

Hazel had no idea what was going on, all she knew was that they were huddled in their pj’s by the railing with Percy before them wearing nothing but a pair of flannel pants. There was a wildness to his posture, those muscles tense and corded, as he opened and closed his mouth a few times before saying, “As you’ve probably all guessed by now, I can’t control… whatever this is. I can’t stop myself and no one on this ship is safe until we find a way to.”

Erratic in a way they’d never seen before, the words tumbled from Percy. Frank took half a step forward, brows laced together with concern at the unsteady rise and fall to Percy’s broad chest. “Hey, Percy it’s gonna be alright. Just breathe, calm down.”

"Calm down?" as his voice began to rise, Frank flinched realizing his poor choice of words. "I nearly killed Annabeth and Piper, almost destroyed the ship all when I wasn't fully conscious and you want me to calm down . Brilliant idea. Maybe I could calm down, maybe I could even sleep, knowing if it came down to it one of you could put me down if necessary."

Frank went completely still and it was Hazel who spoke from behind him, "What?"

"You heard me. Let's play a little game called 'who can kill Percy Jackson'."

"You know none of us would ever do that,” Frank managed to say.

"Well you better start changing your mindset then because whatever’s inside me doesn’t seem to care about any of you."

Leo turned to Annabeth with wide eyes, "Uh, Annabeth, you wanna step in here?"

But the daughter of Athena looked at her boyfriend and though it made her heart strain, she said, "actually it's not a bad idea to see if there's a way to prevent last night from repeating. And if it'll make you feel better to know," she looked to Percy, "then I think it's worth it."

Frank hated to agree but he nodded as well. And with that, it was decided. 

Percy's eyes that had softened at Annabeth's words grew cold as he turned to the group. He pulled that golden pen from the pockets of his blue pajama pants and Riptide grew to its full length; the celestial bronze bright against the darkness of the speckled night surrounding them. "So, who's first?"

Sailing through the open air, the wind howled as they stood in a semi-circle beneath the stars— the full moon both the only light by which they could see and a reminder of the coming Solstice, the day Echidna had claimed would mark their demise and the return of Gaea. One by one, they each took a turn trying to disarm and subdue Percy.

Leo first, hurling columns of flame and Archimedes spheres left and right. Percy called to the water below, summoning a small amount to form a shield around his arm that he used to deflect the fire as he dashed around the deck. The spheres exploded, sending nets and darts flying with precision, but Riptide was through them before any could hit their target. The blade Percy had been sharpening incessantly the past few nights when he couldn't sleep made quick work of any and all of Leo's attacks. With nothing but a few burns at his legs that left his pants singed, Percy wore Leo out quickly and the son of Hephaestus surrendered. Percy let out a shaky breath and it was an effort to stay standing as fear threatened to suffocate him. Because he hadn't even tried to use his new abilities and Leo had already folded. He focused on keeping his breath even and settled back into that killing calm that was beginning to feel more like peace— like salvation.

Frank stepped from Hazel's touch and stepped into the invisible ring as Leo moped back to the others. Despite his godly lineage, despite living and breathing battle strategy these past months, Frank had never considered being on the receiving end of Percy's wrath. Maybe that made him a fool, maybe a greater child of Ares would have seen the possible threat living within their ranks, but he hadn't. Because Percy was his brother in arms, and more than that, a friend. And Frank didn't know what hurt more: the feeling in the pit of his stomach for how he'd failed Percy in not being there for him more since getting back from Tartarus, or the way Percy was looking him up and down. Analyzing him as he'd seen the son of Poseidon do countless times on the killing field— searching for weakness, planning out strikes, assessing the opponent— but he'd never been on the receiving end of that merciless stare. Gods, if not for the water, Frank would’ve thought him a fellow child of Ares. Percy stilled the swirling water of the shield at his arm, raised Riptide with the other, and bent his knees into a crouch to signal he was ready.

Having watched enough of Percy's solo training on the quarter deck every day and sparing frequently, Frank took a single breath to create a plan of attack, mentally organizing the forms Percy had the most trouble against. And without a single warning, he launched for the son of Poseidon, claws fully extended.

There were a few gasps from the railing as Percy dodged the barrage of teeth and nails mere seconds before they made contact. Smooth as a tide, he moved and was already half across the deck by the time the lion's massive paws struck the ground. Those claws dug into the wood, splintering beneath the weight of it's powerful frame of golden fur. Percy watched the mane around Frank's head shift as he turned to see where his prey had gone. But Percy was no prey and it was Frank's blood dripping down Riptide's hilt, sticky and warm on his hand. Just as he had all that time ago on the Princess Andromeda when he'd gotten beneath that giant crab and struck an unguarded portion of its stomach. The only difference being this time he'd restrained himself enough for the cut to be more of an annoyance than lethal. But it still leaked enough blood to serve as a warning that he didn't plan on holding back.

Frank's answering roar thundered between Percy's ears as the lion bounded for him. Percy knew this form and had never fully revealed to Frank how experienced he was with lions. Because it wasn’t just training that made Percy so lethal, but experience.

As with the Nemean lion, Percy held his ground, waiting until the last moment— when it would be too late for Frank to change his path— and sent a torrent of waves that he'd been gathering in the moments Frank had taken crashing into the lion's back with enough force to cause those four limbs to buckle. Before Frank could reorganize his plan, another wave slammed into his face, drenching the golden mane and pushing him back a foot. When he rose, maw dripping, chest stinging from being pushed back by the wave atop the wound, Percy was barely panting.

The son of Poseidon opened his mouth but Frank was already moving, shifting back to that of a demigod mid stride. The dagger at his hip unsheathed, he bolted for the center of the deck. When he was but a stride away, Percy lowered Riptide and released the wall of water hovering behind him back to the ocean.

And when Frank tried to shift he realized, with no small amount of panic, that he couldn't. That not only was he trapped in demigod form, but that he was frozen. Dagger raised, legs spread in a leap, he couldn't move, could barely breathe. Percy was before him, hand contorted the same as last night when he'd done the same thing to Piper, but he'd been asleep then. He wasn't asleep now. With that violating hold that Frank was powerless against, he was brought to his knees, his head tilted back without his consent. The entire deck went dead silent and Frank didn't have to wonder why as he felt the crisp coldness from the sword's edge. Riptide went still across the front of his exposed neck.

But from above him, Percy's eyes weren't cold or distant, they weren't filled with hatred or bloodlust. There was nothing but hope drenched desperation. And when he spoke it was with barely a sound.

"Fight it, Frank." His voice cracked as a tear slid from those sea green eyes, down his jaw, and onto Riptide like a fallen star. " Please."

He tried, he did. With everything he had, he tried to get free. Tried to shift. To move. But he couldn't. There was no way. And it was horror that filled him now because he hadn't realized— not until truly feeling the strength of Percy's abilities— how bad this really was. Sure seeing it last night on Piper had been frightening, but feeling it… Frank was completely at the will of the demigod standing above him. 

I'm sorry, Frank let the strain in his eyes speak for him before closing them in silent surrender. And then he was free, panting on hands and knees, one hand raised to the slice across his chest. That scarred hand extended towards him and Frank hated himself for flinching before taking it when he saw the look on Percy's face. Yet Percy helped him up and summoned a small orb of water that glimmered in the moonlight. The cut was shallow enough that he was able to staunch the bleeding and partially mend the split flesh in a few tense moments. The two said nothing as Frank joined the others, practically falling into Hazel's arms.

Percy just stood there, in the center of the deck, blood and water surrounding him atop the splintered wooden planks. His fingers twitch as that fear returns, threatening to drown him. He refused to meet Annabeth's eyes, refused to let those grey irises soothe him; he didn't deserve their warmth. And there it was again, that feeling that had made him jump overboard two days ago, the overwhelming sensation that he was volatile, that he couldn't trust his own mind. His instincts blared at him to eliminate the enemy, to protect his friends, to fulfill his urge to be loyal till the end. But there was no monster to defeat, there was no threat to sacrifice himself for the sake of his friend's— his families— safety. 

Because the threat, the enemy, the danger was him .

From beside Jason, Piper bit her lip. It killed her to see Percy like this, to see someone she looked up to, someone she admired and considered family, be torn apart by his own mind, his own heart. And she could almost feel it, that battle being waged inside that beating thing, compelling her to step forward. She'd made it all of two paces, her moth parting open when she froze. Percy hadn't even lifted his head, his hand barely raised with those fingers bared like claws.

The legendary demigod panted slightly, fear gleaming in his eye as his gaze slowly lifted. But he didn't release his hold.

"Make me stop," he begged, " please, Pipes."

Though the desperation speared her barely beating heart, though it chilled the trapped blood in her veins, her mouth did not open. Charmspeak was no use without blood flowing to her jaw or tongue. When it became evident that the daughter of Aphrodite was powerless to form words, Percy let go.

Before the fear could rise again, before he succumbed fully to blind panic, Percy's eyes darted towards Jason. The Roman was shaking his head before Percy had gotten a single word out. "No way, man. Last time we fought…"

"Please, Jason." The son of Poseidon got on his knees, placing Riptide before him like a sacrifice to clasp both hands as if in prayer. "I'm literally begging you."

After a moment, Jason said, "I don't want to hurt you."

"I don't either, but it's only a matter of time before I do. So hurt me back." Jason shook his head and Percy rose from the blood splattered deck, moonlight illuminating the curves of his musculature. Those broad shoulders tensed, his jaw clenching in disbelief, "Don't you want payback for what I did to Piper?"

"Percy, listen to me. No one blames you for that. You didn't mean to, it wasn't you."

"Yes it was! I did that to her, I stopped her blood, I nearly killed her last night! Do you even care?" He waved Riptide wildly, the blade flashing like a shooting star as it sliced through the air. "Do any of you care?! I could kill you all and who would stop me?!" He began to shake visibly and beneath them, the ocean waves rose to lap against the bottom of the ship despite their staggering height above the water. When it was evident Jason wasn't going to take the bait, Percy lunged.

Jason lifted his gladius and parried the strike at the last second, side stepping but not taking the initiative to counter. He instead moved backward, putting as much distance between them as possible. "Percy, stop it this is insane. This isn't you."

But that was the most horrifying thing of all; that despite the fear in his narrowed eyes, it was Percy. The movements were just as strong and precise as ever, the smile on his face that he always had when fighting was there too. Jason had seen this exact composure so many times. He himself had complimented Percy on his fighting ability, on his ruthlessness and skill, but those had all been times when Percy was fighting alongside him. Not from the other end of the sword. It was the familiarity of it all that struck Jason so hard he hesitated. The hesitation cost him, and Riptide sliced against his cheek— shallow enough he barely felt it, but he knew that was by design and knew that it was a warning that the next wouldn’t be so subtle. Percy stalked towards him like Frank's lion form had, but Jason suddenly found himself unable to move backward.

Jason didn’t know how Piper and Annabeth had remained so calm, because when his limbs seized up, panic blinded him. He was trapped. Warmth trickled down his nose, and Percy released him. Stumbling forward, Jason focusing on his breathing without taking his eyes off the demigod. 

“Awful isn’t it? That’s what Piper felt. That’s what I did to her. And I could do it again. I could do it to anyone on this ship without realizing it. And do you wanna know the worst part?” Percy taunted. “There’s a small part of me that enjoys it.” 

“Jason don’t,” Piper warned, sensing a shift in the air. But Jason didn’t listen. Percy wanted to be put in his place? Fine. 

When Jason rose, his eyes shone with a promise of death. Percy’s features were alight in a way that made Jason want to throw up. This was his friend, his brother. But if he wanted this, then fine. Fine. Jason wiped the blood from beneath his nose and crouched into ready position. Percy strode forward with that swaggering ease he always had in battle. He gave the smallest nod and went on the offensive, meeting Percy's strike with enough force to stop the lethal arc of Riptide. Percy grinned like a wolf. He swirled so fast, Jason barely had time to lock swords with him the second time. 

The deck grew dark as clouds amassed above, covering the starlit sky and filling it with a new kind of light that crackled deep inside Jason's core. Mid-swing, Jason saw Percy flick his eyes to the bolts of lightning but that grin only deepened and suddenly the ship was rocking so violently Jason lost his footing, nearly impaling himself on celestial bronze as he jolted.

In a column of bucking waves, Percy had suspended the ship at the very top. Tendrils of water like arms of a massive octopus rose all around them, poised to strike. Jason raised his gladius to the sky and electricity singed his senses as the blade became encased in lightning.

Percy took a moment to admire the feat to which Jason sketched a slight bow and then they charged.

 ***************

Frank had thought it’d been terrifying the time they’d fought when those demons had possessed them. But now, the only demons were those they kept chained within. And Frank could do nothing but watch as his friends tried to tear each other apart. A swirl of metal and flesh, lightning and water, it was like watching a dance. A very lethal, very horrifying dance. Frank might’ve had a hard time determining who was winning if not for the grin that never faltered on Percy’s lips.

Where Jason’s face was set in stone concentration, Percy’s teeth were bared like some feral beast as he smiled broadly. Where Jason was controlled accuracy, Percy was raw precision.

He’s truly gone insane , Frank thought. Until Percy missed an opportunity to disembowel Jason, and then missed a perfect opening to slice his neck. That’s when Frank realized. He wasn’t witnessing insanity, but rather a desperate plea. Percy was pushing Jason to his limits, evident by how Jason was escalating his skill as rage stripped away any self control he’d been chaining himself with. Percy feigned right and slashed across Jason’s other cheek, this time drawing a steady stream of blood. But Frank caught how Percy’s balance shifted at the last minute. He’d had the upper hand, could have easily slammed the pommel of his sword into Jason’s jaw to knock him out and win, or dug his blade in much farther and cut clean into Jason. But Percy had pulled back. 

Frank was wondering what Percy thought he might accomplish from this when their swords clashed and Percy leaned into the locked blades, his voice poison as he sneered over the top of the crossed blades.

“You realize you’ve had years more training than me, and I only take lessons during summers. How does it feel to be outmatched by someone with half the knowledge?"

“Shut up,” Jason hissed. But Frank could tell Percy’s words had struck him in a way his fist or sword never could. Percy swirled and they locked blades again.

“How does it feel to constantly be in my shadow? I don’t know about Jupiter, but I know Zeus would disown you out of shame for being weaker than a son of Poseidon.”

“ Shut up ,” Jason repeated. But Percy was unrelenting, his strikes only growing tighter, stronger, faster, and Jason was using every ounce of training he had to avoid them.

“You know, maybe if you weren’t such a disappointment, weren’t so weak, maybe your dad wouldn’t be so distant. Maybe Reyna and the others would have seen you as an equal rather than some token boy. And you know what else? I bet your mom woul-”

Percy’s taunting was cut off along with the air in his lungs. He fell to his knees, body convulsing, but he didn’t raise hands to his throat, didn’t fight for air any more than his body forced him to. The hellish features melted into something like relief as he strangled. Jason’s eyes went wide with horror. Darkness spotted Percy’s vision but then air was shoved back into his insatiable lungs and he coughed violently. Jason opened his mouth to apologize, but before he could, wrath overtook Percy as he raised a hand. Jason froze. 

But he'd felt it already and the shock this time was less disarming. Jason didn't need to move for the clouds to thicken, didn't need to speak for the lightning to strike where his mind aimed. Barely an inch from Percy's left foot, the floorboards groaned from the blast. Percy didn't release him though, not even when Jason stared until the air was pulled from his lungs. Percy fell to his knees and forced Jason's limbs to buckle. A small voice in the far reaches of his mind told Percy he should stop, that this was his friend, but he silenced it; this was for the greater good. He had to know. Had to see just what Jason could do if provoked. Because this power thrumming through his veins was unpredictable, and though he had some semblance of control over it at the moment, next time he might not be so lucky. And when that happened, Percy needed to know he could rely on Jason to put him down for good. 

So the son of Poseidon gagged for air but tightened his grip enough that Jason's muscles began to cramp and the pressure in his ears made them feel like they'd explode. Beginning to feel his consciousness waver, Percy called on the water to envelop his head and he took a deep breath, smiling within the bubble with a sneer. It would be his last. Jason took aim again, this time to send a bolt through that orb of conductive liquid. Percy seemed to realize his mistake and the smug expression fell as the clouds crackled in warning. Those sea green eyes narrowed and Jason's vision became clouded with black splotches as he began to lose consciousness, his brain unwilling to work without the vital lifeblood. The deck filled with light as Jason willed a bolt from deep within the nebulous clouds above and aimed. Jason let out a strangled cry as Percy tightened his hold, but the clouds answered, opening up with deafening might, casting a holy glow across Percy’s savage features in a way that seemed almost sacrilege. The bolt tore through the sky as Jason’s heart nearly stopped completely and the split second before lightning could hurtle from the clouds above, a shriek sharper than any blade struck them both.

“STOP THIS, BOTH OF YOU!”  

Piper’s charmspeak had them hesitating long enough for Frank to turn into a hellhound and stand between them, teeth bared and snarling ferociously. The storm clouds dissipated as quickly as they’d arrived, but Percy couldn’t let go. He was thrumming with power, unable to release Jason whose face was leached of color, eyelids fighting a losing battle to stay open. A flash of blinding pain distracted him, granting the clarity he needed to focus on nothing but the gouging teeth impaled in his left arm. Jason fell to the ground, sputtering as Percy's cry pierced the night sky.

Jason was still incoherent— lost in the sheer bliss of hearing his pounding heart and rush of life through his veins— as Piper's voice floated overhead; barking commands with not an ounce of charmspeak but demanding all the same. "Festus, bring the ship closer to the water. Leo, don't let him heal himself ‘til I get Jason below deck. Annabeth, Hazel, calm him down once we're gone. Sedate him if you have to." She had to yell to be heard over Percy’s roars of agony. The demigod was on his knees now, one arm between Franks teeth, the other raising. Before he could do anything, Frank let out a growl and clamped his mouth tighter. Percy went completely limp, collapsing to the sound of his bones giving out beneath the pressure. 

Somewhere to the right… or was it the left… Jason could vaguely make out what sounded like Annabeth emptying the contents of her stomach over the railing. But before he could look at what must be a truly morbid scene, Piper was grabbing Jason’s arm in an unrelenting grip, throwing it around her neck, hauling him from the ground and dragging him away. 

With half his weight supported on her shoulder, Piper didn’t stop until she got into her room and slammed the door behind her. They staggered for her bed and she set him down atop the mattress in a seated position against the propped up pillows. The dark spots in his vision were mostly gone and his blood flow had returned to a survivable rate, though his body shook with adrenaline as it left his body in tremors of energy that left his mind clearer than it had been moments ago. Clear enough for the full weight of what transpired to hit him square in the gut.

He’d almost killed Percy. And Percy had almost killed him. Not hurt or wounded. Killed . If Piper and Frank hadn’t stepped in… one or both of them would be dead right now. He looked to Piper, the harpy feather in her hair flapped in the breeze of her movement as she paced enough to burn a streak in the floor. 

Her words had only been enough to force a moment of hesitation, yet he’d felt the strained hold. He’d only obeyed because he’d wanted to. Deep down he hadn’t wanted to kill his friend. But Percy— Jason realized with a start— he hadn’t stopped when Piper yelled. He hadn’t released Jason until Frank’s hellhound teeth bit clean through muscle and bone. Jason shook his head, breaths slowly evening out. Would they get as lucky next time? Would her charmspeak be enough to break them apart? Jason was glad he was sitting down.

His girlfriend held her chin between two fingers as she paced and as he regained his composure, Jason couldn't tell if she was mad at him or not so he figured it was safest to assume the latter and said, "Uh, Pipes? I'm sorry."

She stopped with a confused look that melted before sitting on the edge of the bed. "I'm not upset with you, Jason. Nor at Percy. I'm just… gods you both really scared me." Jason patted the space beside him and she let out a tense breath then climbed over the mass of sheets. "You all are my family. Seeing him nearly kill you and you him… I just- I couldn't watch any longer. If Percy's on edge already, what would happen if he actually did hurt you."

Not knowing what to say, Jason apologized again softly as she tucked herself beneath his arm.

"I know you don't like to think like this, but have you considered what it would mean if something happened to Nico while Percy is like this? He's extremely unstable right now and that's with minimal stress."

She was right, Jason didn't like talking about the possibility of Nico or Reyna being injured… or worse… while they were on their own. In fact, he hated it enough to want to snap back that he'd hardly call a war with Camp Jupiter and the mother of monsters, Echidna, plus the possibility of Gaea rising 'minimal stress', but she was right. To Percy, none of that would matter if Nico were hurt. Jason might be close with Nico, but not nearly as much as Percy; they'd known each other for years, shared so much of the same dark pasts and experiences than Jason would care to consider. Jason wasn't jealous of their closeness or the fact they considered each other brothers, more overjoyed that Nico trusted anyone to even consider them as such. He was so lost in thought that it took Jason a moment to notice Piper's flow of words had stopped.

"Pipes?" Tilting his head he looked over to see her eyes blank, staring at nothing like she did whenever she was deep in thought.

She looked up slowly, a smile growing as she said, "I've got an idea."

Reyna was just finishing the rope inspection when Nico emerged from the trees into the small clearing they’d claimed. Though he said nothing as he took her place and did the second check of the ropes as she moved to zip her bag, Reyna could tell he was more relaxed than he’d been in days. There was even an echo of a smile on his features— slight enough that she was only able to notice from all the time spent with the demigod. 

“So…,” she said pointedly, “how is he?”

Lost in thought, it took Nico a moment to realize she’d spoken. From behind the Parthenos as he continued inspecting, he said “fine” then appeared around the statue’s side to kneel by the dead fire. Silently he swiped a hand through the ashes, removing any trace of them being there. Feeling Reyna’s eyes on him that he didn’t have to look at to know she was waiting for more, he added, “He’s worried about me— about us and the seven.”

“I hope you told him I’ve been a great travel companion.”

He nodded with a ghost of a smile and wiped his ash covered hands on his dark jeans in a grey streak as he rose. “Yeah and about the run in with Bryce.”

Reyna’s eyes flicked to where the bandage was disfiguring his long sleeve shirt. She thought about asking if it still hurt, but had a feeling she knew the answer so asked instead, “And preparations for the battle, did he mention how that’s going?”

The whisper of a smile vanished and Nico’s expression turned grave, voice going flat as he recounted that part of the conversation with Will.

“They’ll need all the help they can get," Reyna said. She caught the wince as Nico rolled his shoulder, disrupting the wound in his harm and most likely those bruises she’d seen a few days ago. “After today’s jump, we should assess and plan out what we’re going to do when we reach Camp Half-Blood. You’ll be in no shape to fight, and I’ll likely be drained and disoriented from lending my strength…” With her eyes lost in thought and aimed at the grass beneath her, she didn’t see Nico’s grimace at the mention of power sharing. A grimace that he wiped from his face seconds before she lifted her gaze. “I think we ought to iris message the seven and the head counselors at Camp Half-Blood so that everyone is on the same page. Battles aren’t won with disorganization and miscommunication.”

She nodded in agreement with herself and that was that. Silence befell them again and once their harnesses were secured, Reyna held out a hand. But Nico shook his head with stubborn determination, claiming he felt well enough to try without her help first. After giving him a once over and determining that he did look better after having spoken to his boyfriend and that one good night of sleep, she lowered her hand with a curt nod of support. Reyna held her breath in anticipation but when nothing happened, she opened her eyes. Dread pierced her chest at the sight of light and shadows shifting on his face, none taking hold just as before when he'd been unable to do it on his own.

Reyna offered her hand again and released a breath to prepare herself for the familiar burn of her power. “Nico, take what you need.”

Nico ripped free from his harness, fuming with obvious frustration and leaned against the base. “No, just- just give me a second.”

“Why not?” she asked with desperation, arm still raised.

“Just forget it. I’m fine.” 

“Nico,” she couldn’t keep the desperation from her voice. No no no she thought they were past this pointless insecurity, thought he finally trusted her, “needing help isn’t a weakness.”

He shook his head again, frantic almost, the dark circles beneath his eyes giving him the appearance of something truly wild and as the grass beneath her feet turned black, Reyna steeled her nerves as she was reminded of who she was in the presence of. Nico stumbled towards the Parthenos, bracing his entire body on the base with one arm, the other held out defensively in Reyna’s general direction as a headache threatened to split his skull.

Head between his hands he shook, his whole body trembling, Nico tried to put words to emotions he’d kept bottled for so many years. “N-no it’s… -t’s not about that.”

Reyna threw her hands above her head in frustration, “Well then what is it, Nico? Why won’t you let me help? It’s killing me, you know that? A piece of me dies every second I see you suffering like this.”

Nico stumbled and fell to the seared grass. Reyna knew she should stop, knew she should give him space to breathe and calm himself down, but she couldn’t. All the days, all the jumps, all the shadows— every barely concealed moan and flinch of pain, the sight of those neon bruises— were coming back to her in a rush and she couldn’t contain the rising anxiety that unrelentingly seized her heart. She should be taking some of that burden and shame seared her cheeks because she should have been adamant about it from the start, she'd failed him in letting this all go on for so long.

“Answer me, Nico,” she cried out. “Answer me!”

Something had changed between them after that jump when she shared her power with him. Something silent and unspoken, but a change nonetheless. As if the bond they'd shared for seconds stretched into a lifetime hadn't completely disappeared between them. But it seemed that invisible bond wasn't enough.

“I don’t want to hurt you, alright?!” 

"Well you are!" the words, so strange in their desperation, burned in her throat and her face went flush with rage. "Can't you see that? You are hurting me Nico, and I can't take it anymore!"

And that look, the same expression that had flashed across his face not when Bryce had stabbed him, but when he'd twisted the blade— that pain beyond all reason— was on his face now. But she'd spoken the truth, he was hurting her and she hated him for it, though not nearly as much as she hated herself.

Hated herself for letting him in, letting him through the padlocked gate that was her heart. Hated herself for letting her guard down, for going against the very nature of her DNA, against her code of life and honor as a Roman soldier, as a Praetor. Because Reyna had let herself love him, this son of Hades. It wasn't the type of love he and Will had, nor that of Piper and Jason or Annabeth and Percy, no. She wasn't capable of that type of emotion. She was beyond that kind of soft gentleness. No. The love she had for Nico was different, it was wild and feral as the wolves who had raised her. It was the kind that she would kill for, die for. She’d let him into her pack of one, let him see sides of her no one had. She trusted him more than she was capable of conveying through words, but he it didn’t matter. He didn’t trust her. After everything… he didn’t feel the same. She could barely see through the tears welling in her eyes, cascading down her burning cheeks in an icy river. Stupid, childish, improper, unwarriorlike tears. She couldn't recall the last time she'd cried. Reyna pointed to the bandage on his arm, “For gods sake, Nico, you took a blade for me! If you hadn’t done that, it’d be dead right now! Why can’t you let me do the same for you?”

“You don’t understand,” he said in that deathly calm way of his. 

“Well then make me understand, Nico! Talk to me! Tell me why you have to do this alone!”

He ran a hand through his hair roughly and let out a string of curses under his breath before pinning her with those dark eyes. "Fine. Sit, listen."

Her mouth flew open, ready to make the next attack to satiate the raw emotion that gripped her, but the tone with which Nico spoke… the whisper that seemed to scream… she froze. She sat. Across from her, he lowered himself to the ground ungracefully, basically falling to the dead grass and took a few breaths with closed eyes before parting his lips to speak.

"When I was down there… in Tartarus I confronted monsters that had been trapped there for millennia, some sentenced even before Kronos’ rise to power, before the gods had been born. When they weren't trying to kill, eat, or hunt me, some would taunt me. Apparently my blood smelled different, it marked me as a child of Hades. They said…" He pressed the bridge of his nose, focusing on the sensation to keep from being pulled under by the memories he called forth. "… They said children born of the Big Three are different, that if trained, together, they could end the gods themselves. God Killers, they called us.”

The breath caught in Reyna's throat as her heart skipped a beat, then another. This was why Nico had been so scared of her seeing his memories while sharing her power; this was what he'd been so afraid of her discovering. The fact he was telling her now made her chest clench because for him to trust her that much… it made her head swim. Incapable of speech, she remained silent as he continued.

“They said that they'd be doing the universe a favor by destroying me. I think they just wanted the chance to see how one of my kind tasted." Reyna watched his chiseled jaw clench. "According to them, we endure more than most demigods in order to keep us from growing too strong, to keep us balanced as ordained by the goddess Adrestia and the Fates themselves. They were all so enthralled by me, always taunting me, trying to get me to use the full extent of my powers to satiate their curiosity." 

Why not give us a show before we eat you? 

Let us taste your shadows, boy. Our teeth are a mercy compared to what awaits you.

"Gods are brought into existence with all the power they will ever have, but demigods… we have the ability to grow stronger than our birth. If allowed to live long enough, the ichor in our veins will mutate the mortal blood and— if powerful enough— enable us to reach near godhood. Our powers will only grow with age, whereas normal gods' remain stagnant. Being only of ichor, their immortal lifeblood has nothing to feed on."

Beside Nico, Argentum did not growl. Not at a single word he'd spoken, nor as he continued.

"I wanted to deny it at first, but it explains so much about my life and I mean just look at Percy. He’s often underestimated because of his humor and charm, but even the calmest ocean can turn tides that engulf whole ships without warning. With zero training and not yet claimed by Poseidon, he took down a Minotaur at twelve years old. Percy’s held the sky, escaped Tartarus, had his memory erased, been granted Praetorship at a Spartan war camp, bore the Curse of Achilles, lead the Greeks into battle, defeated Typhoon and Kronos, has arguably the highest death count of any demigod in history, and survived countless monsters,” and, remembering the time Percy showed him the scars Gabe had given him, Nico added, “even the human kind.” 

Nico shook his head as if in mourning of the men he and Percy would be today had the universe been kinder to demigods like them. “Child abuse is no small thing, it leaves scars on the body and mind that can last a lifetime… no matter how legendary or strong the person. It’s easy to forget the trauma Percy endured before ever finding Camp Half-Blood, learning he was a demigod. He spent almost twelve years , his entire childhood watching his mom be abused; spent just as long taking it himself too. You gotta wonder what that does to someone, demigod or not.” 

Reyna hadn't heard much of Percy’s past but was aware he hadn’t been claimed until he was twelve— a concept strange to her as nearly all Romans at Camp Jupiter were born in New Rome. She used to think lesser of those demigods who got the chance to live as a mortal, but after meeting Percy, her whole attitude had changed. It hadn't been a blessing for Percy, but a curse. In his years of what should have been freedom and peace, he’d seen the worst in humans. And she could see how to Percy, monsters were not bound by species.

Nico ran a hand along the sun warmed back of Argentum, the gold and silver rings on his fingers scraping against the hound's metallic finish. "Why do you think there’s only one demigod son of Poseidon? What has the capacity to be more violent than the sea? Zeus is not king because he is the most powerful. He is king because he has successfully led everyone to believe he is. He’s forced submission from the other gods and none dare challenge him."

Reyna thought about that and questioned, “Are you suggesting Poseidon is the strongest god? That he should be on the throne?”

Nico laughed bitterly, “No, definitely not. What I’m saying is… there is a strongest god, but it isn’t Zeus. He might be the strongest manipulator with the strongest ego, but he is not the most powerful. And definitely not the most deserving." Reyna watched Nico's gaze drift to where their fire had been last night, "If I had any say, Hestia would sit on the throne. She knows the mortal lands better than anyone, and the corruption in Olympus too. That'll never happen though, she's a protector not a destroyer, she'd never be ruthless enough to just take the throne without reason." He let out a sigh, "But anyway, all I’m certain of is that Percy is definitely the most powerful demigod the world has ever seen.”

Reyna shuddered. She wanted to deny it, to name another— a Roman even. But that was the thing; even at Camp Jupiter he’d been so beyond the skills of anyone else; he’d been the strongest. His words put her into a quiet thought as they sat in silence until she asked, "So this power… why haven't you used it before?"

She knew he understood the real question she was trying to ask, Why didn't you use it in Tartarus. Because after experiencing only the slightest taste of the hellscape, she knew if she'd been trapped down there, she'd have used every ounce of her abilities to survive. And yet he hadn't. That alone made fear grip her spine.

"I actually didn't think much of it until Tartarus, always thought it was something all demigods had, something that I'd learn to access and control in my classes at Camp when I got older." He rubbed the back of his neck but hit one of the bruises and winced. "As for when I was in Tartarus… It's hard to explain, but I just couldn't shake the feeling that this power, whatever it is, would make me no better than the monsters down there. And if I've learned anything in my life it's that everything comes with a price. I wasn't willing to find out what that might be down there."

His explanation did nothing to calm her nerves and she didn't want to know more, really didn’t, but asked anyway, "You said access it… so is it locked away inside you?"

"I'm not sure how it is for Percy and Jason, but for me it's sealed." As Nico explained, he closed his eyes and ventured to that far reach of his mindscape. When he reached the end, he extended a hand to rest upon its smooth surface but the glass radiated coldness as if made of sub zero ice. Pulling his hand away from the discomfort before making contact, Nico opened his eyes. "Like a wall of ice. Sometimes if I lose my grip on my emotions or I'm threatened, the wall goes translucent and I can see a mass of black fog, darker than what I normally wield, that writhes behind it. Almost like it's waiting."

"So the wall is a barrier holding you back from your full power?"

A strong breeze went by, ruffling his hair as he nodded. "What I can do now— raising armies of the dead, commanding hellhounds, shadow traveling— it’s all nothing compared to what I’ll be able to do should I live long enough to see it. And that's why what I learned in Tartarus makes so much sense; how it's almost as if the Fates, the Gods, the entire universe doesn’t want us to reach that age. They keep us busy fighting their battles, fighting for our friends and camps survival, just to prevent us from gaining that heightened awareness that we are capable of so much more."

"Have you told them, Jason and Percy?"

Nico let out a bitter laugh. "Jason, no. Percy… deep down, he already knows." He thought back to their conversation on the mast. It was a wonder Percy's powers hadn't mutated yet, though Nico had a strange feeling it was only a matter of time. "Tartarus is like a mirror that forces you to look inside and see that you are no better than it. When he was down there, he felt the barrier just like I did, even managed to make a few cracks in it.”

He’d kept this knowledge to himself all this time, never wanting to speak the words aloud, never trusting anyone enough to do so. Not even Will because he knew the ray of sunlight would never accept the depressing possibility of it being true. Nico could imagine Will marching straight to the King of the gods and demanding an answer if it meant disproving Nico’s horrifying notion. But Reyna… he didn’t know why, but his very bones whispered to him that she could be trusted. And it was this primal trust he'd never be able to explain with mortal words that had him continue to pour out his soul for her.

"When the giant's had me in that bottle, I had a dream… a vision." Nico shuddered despite the humidity that shone in beads on his forehead and he paused. Long enough that Reyna bent closer.

"What did you see?"

He looked into the treeline. In the shade of the Parthenos behind him the shadows shrouded his eyes, engulfing them in darkness, chiseling his jaw, and accentuating his cheeks in a way that made him look almost skeletal.

“I saw Percy wield blood with the fluidity of water. Wherever Percy looked, his enemies burst or shriveled. I saw—,” he looked down at his own palms with fear mixed curiosity of what he could do, “— I saw Percy turn to Olympus… ”

His unseeing gaze found Reyna, and in that moment, he wasn’t the son of Hades or even a demigod. He was a scared boy who’d been shoved into the unforgiving gore of the universe and told to man up, for he was to protect this already ruined existence. 

“... because what more is ichor than a liquid?”

Reyna wanted to deny it, wanted to so badly that her heart ached. But she could not. Not when she’d seen first hand how Percy had changed. Subtly, but change he had. And it made sense, was an answer to their questions. Percy’s fatal flaw of loyalty… what was it other than a way to bind him and ensure his death? Had the Fates not selected it to seal his undoing? And Nico… his ability to hold a grudge was unparalleled. But the more time she spent with him, the more she felt his true fatal flaw was that he never could see the truth, could never feel warmth even if it slapped him in the face. Reyna’s head spun from a thought that blared in her mind suddenly. 

If Nico was so powerful, possibly more so than even Percy… then the gods would never be able to stop him. Only Nico himself could. Had they doomed Nico from the start by creating him with a void in his heart so all love would simply pass through? She looked up at the child of darkness. Everything that had ever happened to him… had the gods sent these trials hoping that it would drive Nico to end it all… to die by his own hand? She couldn’t shake the feeling that if the monsters in Tartarus knew this, if the Fates knew this, then at least one of the gods must too. The thought horrified her, jolted her very core so violently that she stood.

"You will not touch that wall." Not a question from a friend, but a command from a Praetor, authority rippling from each word. Despite himself, Nico nodded. She really needed to learn about making Greeks swear on the Styx.

As if she could sense the gist of his thoughts, she arched both brows high enough for him to see the threat written there. So he held out a hand.

"Reyna Ramírez-Arellano, I promise that I will not attempt to access the unknown power to shadow travel." He would let her help, but if he got the feeling that they couldn't make it even with her help, he'd shatter that wall and use it. But only as a last resort. Because the Roman was right; he knew nothing about what dwelled deep within him.

She looked at his hand, at his features that he'd turned stone with seriousness, and took it. Then she let out a hiss of air and pointedly looked to the sun, "You know we should really make a rule not to have conversations with world ending implications before noon."

Reyna savored the chime of laughter that escaped his lips and as the sound filled the forest, she felt lighter than she had in months. Because unlike she'd though only moments ago, Nico did trust her. More than she'd known until now.

"But that still doesn't explain why you feel the need to sacrifice your health, your life, for me."

The smile drooped and she cursed herself for making that sorrowful expression return. "I can’t take your strength. It means a lot to me, it does, that you’re even offering but the exchange would only hurt you and…” he gazed through his veil of dark hair up at her from where he sat among the dead earth. “I’d rather die than hurt anyone.”

She looked into his wild eyes, saw the relief that washed over him at getting to speak the words he’d held in for longer than she wanted to imagine. And despite how horrifying it all was, despite how much she wanted to deny all he'd revealed…

“I believe you," she said, “but that doesn’t mean you have to do it completely by yourself. Yes you are powerful, more than either of us or anyone else know, but Nico… you’re still just one demigod. And if I can help you in any way, even giving you just the barest amounts of power to keep you from going insane from the pain I know you feel… then let me. If not for you, then please just do it for me.”

His expression turned guarded, mouth parting to deny the offer, but Reyna took a step forward. “Shadow traveling hurts far less than watching my friend endure so much when I know there’s something I can do to lessen it. So don’t come at me with that bullshit of yours.” The corner of her mouth twitched as she extended a calloused hand. “Because we’re in this together.”

Nico felt raw from telling Reyna so much but despite the wounds crushing his bones, he felt like he could finally breathe. Just saying all of that unloaded an impossible weight from his chest. Nico took her hand and for the first time, Reyna didn’t feel the need to pull away from that arctic touch.

Chapter Text

Fifteen minutes of brushing and yet all Frank could taste was Percy’s blood in his mouth. 

It wouldn’t leave him— coating his throat and the surfaces of his teeth— refused to be washed away as he desperately sloshed water back and forth, spitting toothpaste and traces of gore from his mouth. 

His eyes dashed to the foggy mirror above the sink. Features gaunt, skin pale and gleaming. He opened his mouth to find the reflection showed no traces of red. 

But it wouldn’t go away. Wrong , his mind hissed, wrong wrong wrong . It had tasted so wrong. It had taken all his self control to keep hold of Percy’s arm when the hellhound senses he’d inhabited had recoiled after it’s canine’s pierced flesh, nearly forcing him back to demigod form. It was only with those senses so tuned to such things that he’d been able to taste it, the… the wrongness as it filled his mouth, coated his canine teeth, dripped from his maw and slid down the growling throat.

His shaking hands found the sink and he clutched it for support as he wretched; heaving nothing but air as he braced himself on the sink. Hazel was there, a silent support at his back as she’d been since trailing him in. Wordlessly she continued to rub his back; her hand rising and falling in tandem with his labored breathing. The second Annabeth had given him the okay to let go and he’d been sure she and Leo could handle Percy now that he was unconscious, Frank had bounded for the steps, transforming back to his original form as he bolted. Knowing nothing but the taste, the reverberation, and the need for somewhere private.

And gods, that unholy snap , Frank’s teeth ached as he recalled clamping his powerful jaw and feeling bones give beneath his bared teeth. Frank knew it was the only way, the only way to make Percy stop— to blind him with pain his half mortal body would cripple beneath. He repeated it in his head over and over again.

It had been the only way, the only way, only way—  

Frank grabbed for the toothbrush like a lifeline and attacked his mouth once more, coughing as he did. Only with the hellhound senses had he been able to detect it. Detect the change; he didn’t know how it was possible, and to be honest he didn’t want to know. All he could be sure of was that it wasn’t a demigod’s blood he tasted. Because a demigod, the hellhound brain knew, was sweet in its perfectly balanced mix of mortal and godly blood. And Percy’s blood… it wasn’t sweet, it burned like only one thing did. Ichor. Percy’s blood had somehow become more ichor than plasma. And Frank was willing to bet whatever was happening to his powers was being caused by that change. 

Not a god, but not quite a demigod either. But if he grew stronger… he couldn’t become a god, but a chill went down Frank’s spine as he wondered how thin that line could get between godhood and not. How much crimson could that ichor overwhelm? 

Shit, Frank thought as he braced over the sink for what felt like the hundredth time.

There was a knock on the bedroom door, the sound echoing through the room and into the bathroom. Hazel removed her hand from his back and moments later, Frank could hear hushed voices through the bathroom door she’d quietly shut behind her. 

“Woah, what’s happening in there?”

“I’m not really sure. He hasn’t said a word, just keeps brushing his teeth and gagging.”

“Is he gonna be okay?”

“I’m not sure of that either… hopefully. How’s Percy?”

They went silent as Frank fell to the ground, knees weak and head swimming at the echoing curse of a truth still on his tongue. Hazel called out and he gave a mumbled reply with all the energy he could summon before Leo answered her question.

“I gave him a dose of sedative then Annabeth and I got him into the water to heal the damage. She’s in his room with him now, he’s literally knocked out— like even snoring. But I should get back in there… ya know just in case.”

Hazel was quiet and Frank could picture her nodding with a crinkled brow like she did whenever she was worried. Leo didn’t go.

“Hazel?” 

“Yes?”

“That was close, like too close. What are we… what are we gonna do?”

“I don’t know, Leo. I don’t know.”

Exhausted, Frank tilted his head to rest on the wall he was leaning on. His eyes were closed by the time Leo had left and Hazel came back in, sitting beside him on the floor. Soft curls brushed against his shoulder as she nestled closer. After a long moment, he opened his eyes and looked down to see her watching him.

“You okay?”

He made to nod but shook his head. He knew it upset her whenever any of them tried to hide their feelings; it was one of the many things he respected and loved her for. So he let out a sharp breath and told her about the truth he’d tasted in Percy’s blood. Shock flashed across her features and it was if he could see the millions of questions enter her mind, but he had some of his own.

“Did Leo say anything about Percy’s arm? I didn’t do anything the water couldn’t heal did I?”

She shook her head, “You did the right thing. He’s alright.” He raised a brow and she let out a tense breath, that of dying laughter. “You know what I mean. He’s fine for now, sedated in his room.”

Frank nodded distantly, the tang of his friend’s blood a living thing on his tongue. It spoke of things— horrible things. He shook his head and focused on those beautiful golden highlights hidden in Hazel’s mane of curls that hinted at her abilities. Abilities she hadn’t so much as touched since Will’s asking of her to stay strong, stay rested. For Nico and Reyna’s sake. 

Nico… Frank sent a silent prayer for safe passage along with a curse to Echidna and her beloved children. His gaze fell to Hazel’s face, those features cold yet alight all at once, a dichotomy of death and precious gems. How many like her— his friends and family— would die on the too fast approaching Solstice? How many would be torn apart, ripped to shreds by unforgiving claws? How many would fall before the earth had drunk enough demigod blood to wake? Would Gaea be merciful and grant the remaining a quick death before turning to the mortal lands and then Olympus itself? Would any remain to beg for mercy at all? 

The sensation in his mouth began to taste like something else, something more. A way to challenge the prophecy. A way to end Echidna before she slaughtered them all. A way to kill a god.

“Frank?” She nudged his ribs gently, “What’re you thinking?”

He didn’t realize he’d been staring at the door, where he could faintly make out voices down the hall. Against his better judgement, that part of him more versed in warfare than optimism concocted a horrible thought. This power Percy had… the changing of his blood… the way he was growing stronger, less crimson… if Percy could control it, he could not only change the tide of the war… but end it before it even began. Frank shook his head in answer to his own stream of consciousness. Because he’d seen it first hand, Percy couldn’t control it, he’d likely harm the demigods as well for he’d lost himself in those final moments against Jason, only stopping once his mortal body forced him to blackout from pain he wasn’t immune to. And yet— 

“Did you see how he fought?” His voice was barely a whisper. She answered just as breathlessly, lowering her gaze to the floor. The scene playing out before her like a black and white film across the wooden planks.

“He was holding his strikes.”

“Exactly. He had control over it… but then it was like…”

“Like he lost that control, like it’s unpredictable… raw.”

They fell silent and it was Hazel who broke the spell.

“Do you think…,” she took a curl, twirling it around her finger with a far off look, “... that this is happening because he’s of the Big Three?”

“I’m not sure.” But the lingering taste in his mouth said otherwise.

“Do you think,” she repeated, voice growing hollow as she voiced the theory she’d been carefully honing ever since Percy’s abilities began to evolve, “that this could be happening to Nico too? Not manipulating blood, but… something else?”

The thought didn’t settle easily with Frank, but he closed his lips that had parted to deny it and contemplated her words. “Logically speaking, yes. Reyna and he haven’t contacted us saying so though so maybe his isn’t… awake yet?”

Her finger spun, the golden streaked hair glinting in the morose light. “I can’t explain it, but I’ve got this feeling that… that right now they need each other, Percy and Nico. Something’s going to happen, and I don’t know what… but these dormant abilities that are growing, I think they can only figure it out together.”

“Well then let’s get Percy to camp, and pray to every primordial being that Reyna does the same for Nico.”

Head growing heavy, she leaned against Frank’s shoulder, the skin soft and comforting. He rested his head on the top of her head, planting a kiss there. It reminded her of Nico’s parting embrace before he made that first jump. Her heart ached so powerfully, she didn’t breathe for a moment.

You’re right, I have felt demigods pass, felt their souls leave the living world, felt them die.  

Don’t let me feel that be you. Promise me

I promise

Frank didn’t know what she was hearing, what she was thinking as the rise and fall to her chest ceased and she went dead still against him. All he knew was that when it started again, more labored than before and she clung to him tighter, that right now she needed his steady presence. So together, they sat in the silence. Together, they held each other in the near darkness.

They did not get up from the floor until Piper knocked on the door to announce breakfast was ready.

The elegant curls made only by quill and ink danced across the unrolled letter as Octavian read the message. The room filled with the six centurions— who stood at attention— was silent, the only sound that of a crackling fire in the small hearth of the cabin and the Augur’s scoff.

“The Greeks think us fools .” He balled the parchment in his hand and chucked it into the flame. Waiting for orders like the obedient soldiers they were, Octavian did not give them permission to sit and instead strode to the small crate beneath the porthole, removed a stuffed bear and plopped into the chair at the head of the table that took up most of the room. Turning the bear in his palms he didn’t reach for the dagger at his hip, just looked around at the gleaming armor of his subservients.

“Piper McLean strung together a masterful tale of how Echidna, mother of monsters, will be attacking their camp on the Solstice to raise Gaea. She wishes for us to unite and defeat her together.”

“How do they know this? That Gaea may rise?” Larry of the second cohort asked gruffly. The son of Mercury glanced at the organized assortment of maps and documents on the table, plans he had been vital in creating. Octavian leaned back in his chair with a sneer.

“Some prophecy. It doesn’t matter, it is all a farce.” His gaze drifted to the open topped box beside the crate overflowing with sliced bears and stuffing. “There is no such prophecy.”

Disdain warped Larry’s features, “An attempt to cause confusion and disarray among our ranks, then.”

Octavian nodded and turned to the Third Cohort Centurion who also held the rank of Senator, “Are the onagers prepared? All weapons sharpened and distributed to the legion?”

After a moment Hank gave a curt nod, “The armada is ready. Larry informed each cohort of the marching configuration and war plan.”

“I sense hesitation in you, Centurion.”

“Will we not heed the warning? In the time Percy was in our ranks,” Octavian bristled at the name but Hank did not yield, “he proved himself in more ways than one. He also knows we would not be easily disturbed by such a warning as you say. So it must not be a diversion. I think we should at least consider adding it into one of our backup strategies.”

Octavian rose, poison in his eyes as he strode for the demigod. Though he stood a head and a half shorter than the Senator, Octavian had the ferocity of a chihuahua. “Perseus Jackson is a traitor, a disgrace. He is a spineless coward with no respect for the Roman way.”

“We know his strengths,” Larry said in an effort to diffuse the tension. “And he will not be underestimated. As for the letter… I will see to it that a plan is created and the cohorts are informed. Just in case.”

Octavian backed down, going back to his chair and palming the stuffed bear.

“And what of the di Angelo boy?” Leila of the Fourth Cohort asked, unbearably calm as ever. “What of Reyna?”

Marcus let out a huff from by the door, it was an effort to keep the smile at bay. “You mean how they killed Bryce and his squadron?”

“No,” Leila said with barely any emotion to it. “They are traveling across the globe with the Athena Parthenos. Why would they sacrifice themselves in such an impossible task if not to be true of heart.”

“Another diversion meant to divide us,” Octavian spat. “A way to make us question their loyalty.”

Leila gazed at him slowly. “You are paranoid.”

“No,” he seethed, voice rising with every word, “I am Pontifex Maximus !”

She parted her lips but he screamed, “Get out! All of you! Do not return until we have arrived!”

For a moment she just stood there, unflinching, but then she turned and left. The others followed in silent submission. Octavian fell back into the chair, chest heaving with rage. He was fed up with being undermined, fed up with being at sea, on this ship full of weak minded soldiers, fed up with war planning and endless meetings. He wanted action. He wanted to feel Percy bleed out beneath his blade. 

Octavian pulled out the dagger that he’d been imagining every night all the ways he could sink it into the demigod. For now, he settled on slicing the stuffed bear in his hands, it’s fabric splitting open with ease. Three times a day he did this, for he’d been hoping for glimpses into the coming battle or of his enemy’s preparations. But he’d had no luck. The stuffing had been nothing but white. He paused before looking at the animal's innards, so fed up with everything that he couldn’t bring himself to be disappointed once more.

With a sigh, he threw the contents of his hand across the table and returned his dagger to the scabbard at his hip. Head in his hands as he tried to calm that potent anger always raging inside him, Octavian breathed in and out, in and out. He rose from his seat and made to leave, but something made him turn around slowly, walk to the end of the table, and pick up the stuffed bear.

Turning it in his hand with a raised brow, it fell from his hand. Octavian dove for the floor to catch it and held the ripped material in his two palms, staring into it with wide eyes. Because the stuffing wasn’t blank. It wasn’t pure white. And with the sight with which he’d been gifted, Octavian could read the words scrawled among the red material.

Beware the God Killers

“Did that help?” Reyna said beside her, hope glittering in her eyes despite the labored breaths and furrowed brows from the monumental effort to keep from collapsing in a heap or screaming or both from the jump they’d just made.

Nico had indeed kept true to his promise and— though it killed him to— taken her strength during the jump. But while he’d agreed to use her help, he’d never specified to what extent. Which was why Reyna was on her feet and not convulsing in the grass choked clearing they’d landed on. It had taken considerable effort to only take a small amount, but seeing the hope in her eyes rather than fear and suffering made it worth it. 

And so he nodded to her, putting on a smile that in her disheveled condition she couldn’t detect it’s fakeness as he said over a shoulder, “Yeah it really did, thanks. Hey, I’m gonna check the rigging on the back; felt kind of loose towards the end there.”

After she nodded and turned her back to rummage through her bag with shaking hands to scrounge together a meal, Nico dipped behind the statue. It was all he could do to clamp a hand over his mouth before falling to the ground against the stone base. 

Biting the flesh of his palm to keep from crying out and alerting Reyna, he clamped both eyes shut and dug the back of his head against the cold stone. Once the fire left his system, when it’s phantom flames ceased searing the inside of his body, soul, and mind, he opened his eyes and removed his now bleeding hand. Ignoring the minor injury, he lifted the dark fabric of his shirt, but what he saw did nothing to quell the anxiety in his veins.

Just last week his skin had been marked with a few spots of bright blue and purple, but now… now his entire upper half had splotchy black lines as if a schematic of his harness. The bruising ran across his ribs, over each shoulder, down his chest and— from the deep ache of resting against the stone— likely along his back as well. It explained the recent difficulty with breathing… and walking. With a shaking hand, he hovered scarred fingers over one portion of black. Worse— this was so much worse than the still healing stab wound on his bicep. He took a sharp inhale, trapping the air in his lungs, and was about to touch the damaged skin when a voice rang out from the other side of the Parthenos.

“How’s it looking?”

Nico gazed at his deformed frame before gathering his strength and hoisting himself to his feet through sheer spite for the Fates alone. He was worried she might have seen what he’d been doing, but after convincing his aching body to walk around the front of the statue, using the base for support, he saw she was still hunched over the bag with her back turned.

“Seen better days,” that much was true. But he added, “I tightened some of the ropes, looks secure to me.” 

She turned with a victorious grin, two bags in either hand, “Great, I have breakfast.” She noticed his hand on the statue’s base and how he was leaning on it heavily. Nico caught her gaze and quickly straightened his posture, just barely fast enough to conceal a wince of pain.

“I’m fine. What’d you find, Chef Reyna?”

They ate in silence, both of them sorting through the visions they’d encountered during the jump— Reyna trying to decipher pieces of Nico’s life from what he’d seen; and Nico trying to push down and suppress what he’d encountered as well as pay attention to every grimace or wince or groan that fought to be shown at the slightest movement of his upper body.

As Reyna brought their pack closer to reorganize its contents for the next day’s jump, Nico rose, drawn to the sound of a nearby stream. He slid down a tree beside the flowing water, gaze far off towards the stream at his side— at the sun’s rays reflecting off the subtle ripples; at the dragonflies dancing atop the surface.

Reyna would say he looked at peace, but she’d so rarely seen the emotion on Nico, and when she took half a step forward noticed something that was familiar on his features. Pain. Subtle and well hidden as always, but through her time with him and that strange bond, she could read the slightest of lines in his face and angles of his posture; had become attuned to the language of his shadows. And although she was in no way fluent, Reyna could see the pain there all the same.

She left her shoes discarded by the Parthenos and felt the twigs bend beneath her bare feet as she joined Nico on the grass and dirt warmed by the morning sun. 

She looked at him but said nothing for a few moments. She could tell his mind was elsewhere and had learned it was times like this when he felt most vulnerable. If she startled him, the walls she’d so carefully been stripping down would rebuild. So they sat— the Praetor and the Prince of Death— in silence. Nothing but the cool breeze and river flowing over a bed of smooth pebbles.

It wasn’t until Nico tilted his head back, resting it against the birch tree behind him that Reyna allowed her usual question to be whispered aloud. 

“Are you okay?”

Nico smiled at that. A smile meant for her— to calm her nerves and keep her from worrying— as he usually did when asked of his obviously deteriorating condition. She could even see him open his mouth to spout out the same “I’m fine” and could even picture that shake of his head and roll of his shoulders to prove he wasn’t lying. But none of that happened. 

For the first time in their journey, Nico closed his mouth, stopping that repetitive action, that hourly lie, and instead looked at her. The fake smile was gone as he shifted his gaze back out to the water; focused on the calmness it’s steady flow brought him. 

Reyna trained her eyes to where his were pointed, waiting patiently for a response. And when it came, his voice was hoarse.

“I’m just… I’m so tired.” His voice turned gravely, eyes never leaving that spot in the stream. “It’s stupid and so fucking selfish to say ‘cause so many demigods are depending on us— a gods damned war is about to break out— but I just… I wish I could stay right here for a few days. Watch the stream, walk through its current, find rocks that have weird shapes to bring back for Will, and sleep under the stars with a blazing fire at my side. Not worried about monsters finding the flame, or hauling a statue across the world, or gods and wars and how many will die if I fail… how many will die even if I don’t.”

As he spoke, Reyna’s heart strained. Never, in all her days of knowing Nico, had she heard him speak with such passion and wonder. Never before had she felt such a yearning to exist . She opened her mouth to say something, anything, but was at a loss for words. 

It was kind of an unspoken rule of demigods to not complain about being denied a normal life. Putting it into words the unfairness they’d been dealt by simply being born… it was too depressing; a reminder that no matter how much they wished or dreamed, there would be no undoing what the Fates had strung together for them. But here was Nico, of all demigods, Nico who was speaking the taboo.

“You know we have this dream,” a smile lifted the corner of his mouth and those golden flecks became alight in the voids of his irises, “this future planned out... a cottage and a white picket fence, a hellhound of our own and neighbors we jokingly complain about… hallways decorated with wedding photos and family pictures with… with our kids…”

As he trailed off, lost in the image of that beautiful future, Reyna was again at a loss for words. She’d never wanted such things, but the passion with which he spoke… she couldn’t help but feel the longing ache as if it were her own. In her moment of hesitation, Nico rose ungracefully and turned to leave. But he hesitated and without turning around spoke, as if to the trees before him and not Reyna at all.

“They say you can’t love someone unless you love yourself,” Reyna heard him let out a bitter laugh. “I’ve never loved myself. But Will…I love him so much that-”

He looked over his shoulder and his eyes were hazy, detached with a far off look as if looking through her all the way to Camp Half-Blood, face illuminated by the sunset. 

“-that he makes me forget what hating myself feels like.”

He released a strained breath and tried to hide the heavy limp and ever expanding ache throughout his entire body as he made his way back to the statue. She watched as he retrieved his blanket from the strewn contents of their backpack and disappeared to the shaded side of the Parthenos. 

She heard him call to Argentum and whisper, “Please wake me in two hours, we have to make the next jump.” And then he extended his hand that held something red. Squinting, Reyna realized the palm wasn’t holding anything, it was bleeding. But Argentum took it as payment all the same and began to lick at the wound before curling up against Nico’s chest.

Argentum lifted his head on Reyna’s hushed command and kept it raised, those gemstone eyes alert, guarding Nico’s exposed body as he drifted into that fitful sleep of his. After removing a small object from the bag beside her, Reyna padded off into the woods. When she was satisfied with the distance between her and Nico’s ears, she withdrew the object and lowered it onto a moss covered tree stump. She sat down in front of it. 

Aurum who’d followed her into the small clearing left her side, sniffing at a safe distance before creeping closer to the strange device; nothing more than a small opalescent cube crafted from magic she had no knowledge of. It had been a gift from her mother upon becoming Praetor; one of the very few times she’d ever spoken with the goddess of war. 

Reyna lifted it, holding the cube out to Aurum for the hound to see that it wasn’t a threat, then set it back down and pressed her thumbprint against an etched circle on the top. A cascade of infinite mist suddenly appeared from the cube in a cascade of minuscule water droplets. Shifting her weight to retrieve a coin from her back pocket, she threw two pieces into the mist, whispering those sacred words.

Reyna steeled herself— taking a labored breath to settle the limp in her throat as the mist split in two, on the left showing one weary face and on the right six more. The image solidified, but she almost wished it hadn’t. On the right, Will had dark circles under his eyes, and though there was a smile bright on his face, she could see the concern there. The six who sat around the dining table aboard the Argo… they looked almost haunted. And where was Percy? The mix of emotions on Annabeth's face as she stared blankly at the table before her sent a chill down Reyna’s spine. The daughter of Athena seemed lost. Before Reyna could inquire, the six noticed the iris message and forced rough smiles and sketched waves of hello. She returned the gestures and with pleasantries out of the way, Will wasted no time launching into a report of war planning at Camp Half-Blood. He got them up to speed with the discussions during  the counselors’ meetings in the Big House and general preparation around Camp. The desperation lingering on the demigod’s gold tanned face told her everything about life at Camp right now as that sense of impending devastation and death toll set in. She knew it well, the sight of silent dining tables, fellow campers looking at each other as if for the last time.

When at last he finished and Piper mentioned the letters she’d sent to Octavian— with no response back, which didn’t come as a surprise to any of them— Reyna pinned her gaze on Annabeth who’d been unusually quiet, letting Frank do most of the strategic questioning, only giving input and advice twice. 

“And what of the Argo?” Those steel grey eyes bore into her soul but Reyna kept her voice even, face expressionless as she forced herself to ask, “Where is Percy?”

The daughter of Athena’s eyes softened yet her voice was flat and emotionless as she regaled what the seven had been enduring ever since Reyna and Nico first departed. She was shocked, of course, but after hearing Nico explain all he’d learned in Tartarus… it startled her more that what Annabeth spoke of all made perfect sense. There had been a small part of her that had wished Nico was wrong, that those beasts in the unforgiving hell had been lying. But this… what Annabeth spoke of… it proved the information to be reality. 

Annabeth fell silent as the report came to a close, ending with Percy’s absence being due to the sedative Leo had administered. Reyna glanced to Jason, amazed he’d emerged virtually unscathed after what sounded like quite the fight against Percy. Two slices, one slightly deeper than the other, graced either cheek. She knew enough about combat to recognize the shallower of the two to be that of a warning. Reyna considered keeping the information she had to herself, because it wasn’t hers to share— if Nico wanted them to know, he’d tell them. But it was upon looking back to Annabeth, seeing her crushed posture, eyes desperate for knowledge that had her lean forward to the spray of mist. Reyna’s eyes darted to Will. Gods, Nico would hate her for this… but in two days all hell would break loose, and possibly Gaea herself, now was not the time to keep secrets. Especially if it could help them all.

“Will, are you somewhere private?” He nodded and she met each set of eyes. “What I am about to tell you gets repeated to no one , understood?”

Leo raised a brow but nodded, as did the others. And so she told them all she knew. Of the monsters in Tartarus, of the wall Nico described barring him from a dark power, and of children of the Big Three— of their capacity to exceed that of a normal demigod. Their faces grew pale as the words poured from her, burning her tongue like poison. When she finished, Frank let out a curse.

“That’s why it tasted so weird…” he said to himself. Leo shot him a look as if to say ‘care to elaborate?’ to which Frank shook his head, not wanting to believe the connection he’d made. “Since I was in hellhound form while biting Percy’s arm last night, my sense of taste was heightened.”

Hazel turned fully to him, concern weaving her brows together as she placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. They shared a silent conversation and he took her hand into his own before continuing. 

“Demigod blood is sweet to a hellhound, while ichor is acrid. And Percy’s blood… it wasn’t sweet. It was bitter. As if his plasma is becoming more heavily concentrated with ichor. Like the balance is off.” He shook his head and rubbed Hazel’s cold palms. “I was hoping I was wrong, that it was just a fluke. But I thought whatever is happening with his powers has something to do with that. And from what you’re saying… I’m right.”

Reyna wished she didn’t have to nod, wished she didn’t have to confirm his fears. Annabeth said nothing for a moment, then another, but then she cleared her throat and said, “He’s always on edge before a big war or battle, because it’s when he’s most strained. When his fatal flaw is pushed to the limit. He has some semblance of control right now, though it’s unpredictable. But I fear… I fear that on that battlefield, he could potentially lose all control.”

Before meeting the son of Poseidon, Reyna would have laughed—  a fatal flaw of caring too much, of being too loyal… how were those bad things? She didn’t laugh now. 

Having to watch those you love and care about, those who the fabric of your soul bind you to protect, and watching them die under your command… she could think of only one fate worse than that. And having to manage that alongside the uncontrollable urge and ability to bend blood to his will… the universe truly did have a despicable sense of humor. It liked to hunt the purest of hearts and destroy the strong slowly. 

“So hang on,” Leo’s voice interjected Reyna’s thoughts, “is no one else as freaked out as I am by this whole ‘God Killer’ thing? Like what in the Styx?! A giant can only be killed by a god and a demigod working together, so how the hell can a god be taken down by a single demigod?? And what, so Percy and Nico both have that potential?”

Reyna nodded and, once again, hated the truth, the brutal reality she was confirming to be real. From beside Piper, Jason spoke up, words slow as he contemplated. 

“It’s clear none of us know a whole lot about what’s going on, this intel helps but still… there’s too many questions left unanswered.” He folded his arms, “Percy’s proven this power isn’t fully under his control, and whatever control he does possess isn’t reliable. He got lost in it last night, even when Piper commanded us to stop, he barely hesitated.” Jason looked to his right, to Frank. “If it weren't for you, he would’ve killed me.”

The words hit Reyna in the chest. She wished she’d been there. Maybe she could’ve done something— put herself between them if nothing else. But Frank had stepped in, he’d acted swiftly and prevented a reality none of them wanted to consider. 

“Which is why,” Jason continued, “we need to do whatever we can to prevent either of them from accessing that power until we know more. Things could get out of hand really fast on the battlefield. We don’t know a thing about Nico’s abilities, but after last night… I have a feeling Percy would lose control. He’d likely end up hurting our own.”

“He wouldn’t do that,” Annabeth whispered, her eyes far off once again. But even she couldn’t bring herself to believe the words as they fell from her lips. 

Jason’s eyes softened and he placed a hand on her shoulder before peering through the mist. “It’s not a risk we can afford to take.”

He glanced at each demigod, those beside him as well as Will and Reyna. Everyone nodded in reluctant agreement then fell into that tense silence. No one spoke for a long while until Will finally looked to Reyna.

“How… how is he?”

This was the reason she’d snuck away from their campsite to make the call, but for some reason she’d been putting off the conversation for as long as possible, largely because of the hope in those radiant eyes. The flickering, withering hope. She tried to search for the right words, something that wouldn’t cause alarm, but it was alarming. So alarming she’d called not just Will, but the others as well. They were Nico’s family, and they all deserved to know. And so, she took a deep breath.

“He’s been letting me help with the jumps, taking my strength.”

Will ran a hand through his hair and sat forward in his seat, a curse muttered under his breath. No one else spoke as the healer braced his forearms atop his thighs and asked, “How bad is it?”

She knew he wasn’t asking how the jumps were, though she could also see it pained him to put her well-being aside. With a look of understanding, she said quietly, “He’s suffering.”

“How bad?” Will repeated after swallowing roughly.

Jason thought it was a trick of the mist, refused to believe it was real for all of two heartbeats. But he was faced with the realization that he’d never known true fear as he watched tears well up in the Praetor’s eyes. That stern face of chiseled stone was blank to keep the rising emotions at bay and she made no move to clear her vision, made no move to acknowledge the lump in her throat. She was still, so unbelievably still, barely even blinking. 

“He can barely eat, sleeps even less. And the bruises…” her voice broke and silence fell.

Because she had seen Nico limping off behind the statue right after their most recent jump, had peeked over top to see him reveal the harness of bruising before, on feet silent from years of training, back to the backpack to yell out and distract Nico from his pain. The room stilled as they watched the warrior’s facade crumble. Shoulders hunched— that perfect posture failing for the first time in her life where others could see— tears welling in her eyes.

He can’t go on. He’s dying. And I-I can’t watch anymore. Please don’t make me please don’t please please please

Her thoughts were loud, but Reyna couldn’t speak the words no matter how badly they ached and burned to be let out. A calm, steady voice cut through her spiral, one of trained bedside manners, one of practiced skills to keep his own emotions contained so as to not cloud judgment. 

“What bruises?”

Her eyes glinted from the light of wherever in the world she was right now against her tears. 

“They’re horrible. The harness… he’s carrying me and the Parthenos each time we jump.”

“Reyna, this is very important. What color are they?”

“Last week, bright blue and purple. But just now they were… they were black, dark like the night sky.”

Beside him, Jason didn’t think Hazel was breathing, nor Will through the mist. The healers head fell to his hands and he clamped the bridge of his nose to keep his welling emotions in check. 

“What’s it mean?” Jason whispered, almost too afraid to ask.

Annabeth swore she could hear sniffling between Wills muffled whisper.

“It means that… shit…. shit... ” 

He stopped, burying his head even further. Until now he hadn’t let himself think of the full extent of what Nico was doing to himself, what he was enduring for them all. Will should have never let Nico go.  

“That what ?” Annabeth demanded.

Will looked up, staring directly at Reyna. “It means that his bones are being strained… it means they’re at risk of breaking.”

That plunged them all into silence once more. 

“There’s what, two jumps left?” Frank said finally, voice gentle. “Reyna, do you think he can make it?”

She looked instead to Will, “I’ll get him home to you. No matter what. I promise.”

And with that, they said their goodbyes.

Reyna hung up, placed the cube back into her pocket, and started her walk back. And the Praetor was eternally grateful that only the trees could hear the broken sobs that she could hold in no longer.

As the iris message faded, everyone was dealing with the shock of the news in their own ways. Leo was cursing, Hazel silent as Frank rubbed her back with concern on his face. Annabeth hadn’t moved, Piper wasn’t even sure if she was breathing. But then she whispered into the dry air, eyes still glued to where the iris message had been, “Not a word of this to Percy.”

“You wanna keep this from him?” Frank asked.

“We don’t know enough, it will only cause stress. And that’s not what he needs right now.”

“And what about Nico?” Hazel asked breathlessly. Annabeth lifted her gaze but it didn’t soften, there was a fiery determination there. 

“Reyna will get him home. We’ll take good care of him when he’s back.” Hazel had an arm wrapped around her torso, the elbow of the other resting on it and a palm raised to her heart. Annabeth set her jaw, forcing enough conviction into her words that she could almost believe them. “He’ll be alright, I promise.”

Annabeth leaned back in her chair and didn’t meet the others’ eyes, just fixated on the crumb filled plates littering the table. But her eyes deceived her, unable to keep from drifting to the empty chair beside her. And perhaps she was speaking more to herself, but she muttered, “All of us will be.”

Leo pulled a few small metal pieces out of his toolbelt and began to mindlessly fiddle with them, needing to do something tangible. His left pointer finger turned a glowing amber as he melted one part to another with a small flickering flame. This he could control, this little machine he held in his palms. There may be a million and one questions, all of which most likely had horrifying answers, but here in his hands the metal scraps were something he did understand to the fullest capacity. And the comfort that brought him was indescribable. 

The rest of the dining room was silent as Leo got lost in his own little world of iron and miniature fire. Frank had leaned back in his seat, chin between two fingers as he pieced together all he now knew. Hazel was like stone beside him, tracing a finger over the grain lines in the wooden table top absentmindedly. And Piper, she was finally realizing what Percy must have heard that night; what the Fates had told him that made him so terrified. God Killer. If their lives had been a movie like one of her dad’s, she would’ve laughed out loud when Reyna had told them that. Laughed until her ribs were sore because it would’ve been nothing but dark comedy for the universe to have such hatred towards them all. Or she might have bawled her eyes out for the tragedy that was a hero's destiny. A life filled with death and trauma, sacrifice and turmoil. As it were, she was filled with nothing but hope as she glanced at Jason who nodded. Piper cleared her throat.

“Annabeth?” Those grey eyes were lined with silver. “I’ve got an idea. It might not work but… with your permission, I think it’s worth a shot.”

After explaining her plan to the others and taking a moment to savor the hope in their eyes— especially Annabeth’s whose features finally softened, as if the weight on her shoulders had been lifted ever so slightly— she made for the door. Jason moved to follow but she gave a crooked smile and slipped through the doorway, closing it behind her.

She marched down the hall and paused only a moment to compose herself before pushing through the door. 

Her breath caught, limbs froze. Before ending the iris message, Will had told them that the sedative would have worn off by now and warned that Percy might be a little disoriented, possibly groggy or nauseous depending how his body reacted to the drug. Armed with that knowledge, she’d expected to see a tired, disheveled Percy Jackson laying on his bed. But instead was met with… well she wasn’t quite sure.

Beside the empty bed was an equally empty water bucket from which Annabeth had been using to cool off Percy’s skin and ensure his arm completely healed. But the water that had been held inside was now racing across the floor after a crumpled up piece of paper, thrown by a shirtless and indeed disheveled looking Percy who sat on the floor, leaning against the foot of his bed.

Percy’s head whipped to the now open doorway and the tiny dog-like creature made of clear liquid fell apart, becoming nothing more than a puddle of water on the wooden planks. After rubbing his eyes, Percy rose, steadying himself on the bed as he reached for a discarded shirt atop the mattress and slid it over his head.

“Um, sorry I was just messing around,” he mumbled as the fabric came down over his shoulders and torso. “Just woke up, wasn’t really ready to ya know… see everyone just yet.”

Piper looked from the messy hair to the puddle and back. All she could think to say was, “What was that?”

Percy rubbed a hand across the back of his neck and, gods she hadn’t realized it had been so long since she’d seen one of those famous mischievous grins on his face. “Oh uh well Annabeth really likes chihuahua’s for some reason but she’s got really bad allergies, so I’ve sorta been practicing…” he loosely gestured to the puddle and it sprang up, swirling in the air until it revealed a crystalline dog of swirling water. “Haven’t gotten a chance to in awhile since… ya know… but I think it’s getting better.”

With the flick of his hand, the ‘dog’ scurried over to Piper and sat at her feet before cocking its head to the side. Piper burst with laughter, “Oh my gods, Percy! Annabeth is gonna love this, it’s so cute!” She reached down and it jumped into her arms, licking her face as she straightened, leaving a trail of water droplets. 

“I was hoping to ask Frank if he’d turn into one so I can make some adjustments, right now the legs are way too short and it’s tail looks all wrong and—”

“Percy,” Piper interrupted with a laugh, “not only is it perfect, but it’s from the heart. Believe me, Annabeth will love it.”

Percy grinned as if she’d given him a million drachmas. She set the water dog back on the floor where it curled up as if sleeping, then rose and placed a hand on the door frame.

“Follow me,” she said, stepping into the hallway. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

“Uh, okay…” He looked down at the water dog who raised its head with perked ears and tilted its head, Percy mirrored the gesture then returned the water to its bucket and followed Piper into the hall. 

The silence began to weigh down on him with each step through the halls of the ship and he found himself reaching for the words he’d been needing to get out. “Hey, Piper, I gotta apologize for-” 

She waved a hand dismissively, “Nope none of that, you didn’t mean to. End of story.”

He opened his mouth to counter but she threw a look over her shoulder that said she could make him quiet if she really wanted to. "Sure but— where are you taking me?"

Though her back was to him as she led the way, he could hear a smile on her voice as she repeated. "I've got a surprise."

Unease curled in his gut, riling the slumbering darkness within his core. The pressure intensified then left him but there was no telling when it would rise again. His heartbeat quickened. He needed to get away from her, away from the others. His senses told him they were in the air, but he could feel the ocean's presence far below. Calming, soothing. He needed to get to it. "Um Pipes? I don't think surprises are a great idea for me right now. Where are the others?"

As the question left his lips, Piper halted before an unmarked door. If memory served him correctly, it was just an empty room they used sometimes to play cards in or a place for Leo to lay out complex machinery when his own room grew too cluttered. But when Piper opened the door wide and stepped aside, an arm extended to usher him inside, Percy’s lips parted and he went completely rigid. His heart skipped a beat. And then another.

He might’ve thought he were still asleep, but his dreams were so rarely of the happy kind. But still, he glanced at Piper who only nodded with a faint smile. She placed a hand on his shoulder with another nod then made her way back down the hall.

Percy stepped through the threshold finally, and slowly— as if in a daze— he made his way to the center of the mostly empty room. On shaking legs he lowered into the solitary chair and gaped at the stream of mist flowing from the Archimedes sphere resting atop a crate before him. And the face that peered through that mist stole the very breath from his lungs, evaporated every thought from his head. It was on pure instinct alone that he was able to breathlessly say, “Mom?”

It came out more like a plea than he’d anticipated, but his mother only smiled and said, “Percy.”

Hearing his name and her voice would’ve brought him to his knees had he not been seated. His head fell as he smiled, and when he looked back up, his mom’s eyes were that of concern.

“Now, what’s going on?” Despite the worry in her eyes, the smirk on her lip was a challenge; for she knew how to get information out of her son. Knew that doing so always brought him peace. So she locked eyes with her boy and said, “Tell me everything.”

And so he did. Stopping often when the shame grew too potent or the panic rose too quickly, he told her everything. The new abilities, the Fate’s, even last night’s fight with the others. Through it all, those two cursed words burned in the back of his throat once he’d spoken them aloud. God Killer. 

But at last, he’d finished. Tears in his eyes, yes, but after saying it all aloud he felt like he could finally breathe without the sharp, stinging pain in his heart. Now it was reduced to that of an uncomfortable throb. The shame though, the guilt and fear still lingered, caused him to hide behind his hands as he rubbed his face roughly. 

"Percy, look at me." He did. and what he saw— the gentle smile, the kindly crinkled eyes, the love— made him wish she could hold him. Hold him and run her fingers through his hair and tell him everything would be alright; that he was still her little boy no matter what he'd done. No matter what he became. He just wanted to be held. Just wanted to smell the aura of candy and baked goods that always clung to her. Wanted to be locked in that impossibly tight embrace, the one that made him feel like he was invincible, that nothing could hurt him as long as he was in his mother’s arms.

Sally Jackson had seen and endured much in her life, but seeing the raw anguish on Percy's face cracked something deep inside her. The world had been so unkind to him, to her angel, and she was responsible for so much of it. But those motherly senses that had kept them both alive even on the darkest nights, told her to be strong. 

Because no matter how much she hurt inside, all that mattered was seeing him smile, hearing him laugh. And even when she could barely feel the beating of her heart, even when she could barely remember her own name, even when she could hear nothing but screams and pleas, there was one thing she would repeat over and over again: be strong for Percy. It was all that had ever mattered, all that ever would matter. She yearned to push the dark locks of hair from his face, ached to see the vibrance of those blue eyes of which she used as inspiration for all of her delicacies. But no dye or food coloring could ever capture that of those beautiful irises. The eyes of her son. Eyes that had seen too much in their young life. She took a breath and then another, and when she could silence the aching of her own heart, she leaned forward.

"You have nothing to be afraid of. Your friends all care so deeply for you. Together you are strong; lean on them, trust them. They'll keep you safe."

He knew he shouldn’t be thinking this, shouldn’t be not when he was a hero, a warrior, a leader, a demigod descendant of the big three, and yet— 

"Ma," his voice cracked, and Sally relied on those old survival instincts to keep her tears at bay. “I’m tired, mom. I’m just- I’m so tired and I… I wanna come home.”

"Shhhh, I know… I know" she soothed. "I'm proud of you, Percy. No matter what happens, always know that I love you, that I'm proud of you."

“I don’t even know what I am anymore.”

“You’re my son.” When he didn’t respond, only averted his eyes, she said, “Hey, look at me. You and I have survived worse.”

The words cracked something in him, opening a door he'd kept locked for years. And suddenly Percy could see it, see those bruises on her skin, the wrongness in her crooked nose, the smell of alcohol, the metallic taste of blood. 

For a moment he looked at his mom and could see every bruise, every break, every injury and cut and scrape Gabe had inflicted on her. His chest clenched but the mirage didn’t fade. Those eyes, those china blue eyes looked at him with such love, and yet her face was so covered in hate, in rage, in pain. And when it shifted, it wasn't back to his mom's face. 

Percy stood with a jolt, knocking the chair over as he stumbled back from the iris message, pressing himself into the wall behind him. Because now it was Annabeth. It was blond hair and smooth skin leached of all color; it was grey eyes and crimson dripping from her nose. He'd done that to her. He'd hurt her just like Gabe had hurt his mom. 

Pressing himself into the wood he slid down it as the features morphed into Piper's; that tan skin gaunt as blood doused her upper lip. The sides of his head stung in phantom remembrance of those crescent shaped punctures she'd given him while trying to make him submit. And the memories hit him in an unforgiving torrent; of seeing those same marks on Gabe's wrists, on his face, on his legs from his mother's futile but feral attempts to keep him away from Percy. To enrage him enough that he wouldn't turn those unforgiving fists on her son.

Percy was choking on air, choking on memories and emotion and pain and grief. 

The mist before him called out with a love he didn't deserve. He heard another voice— a memory— of his mom whispering in his ear that they would be fine, one day they'd get away from the monster that was Gabe. Monster. That's what Percy had become the moment he'd used his powers against Annabeth. It didn't matter that he'd done it disoriented and in defense, there was no excuse. No forgiveness. He didn't deserve his mother's warmth, didn't deserve to go home. Didn't deserve to be held by her, be soothed by her, be forgiven by her.

Percy didn't look at the mist as he rose from the ground he’d sunk down to, didn't pause at the sounds of his mother's words being drowned out by the memories of her screams, as old trauma rose to meet the new. No. He left the room without a goodbye, didn't even bother to shut the door behind him. He heard the voices of his friends down the hall, walking towards him asking what was wrong, what happened, if it was nice to see his mom, if she missed him. Tears streamed down his cheeks, wetting his shirt as they cascaded down his jaw, but he did nothing to dry them. And he didn't answer those voices that turned worried, only flinched as hands tried to comfort him. And then he was running. Running from the pressure in his core, the writhing curse in his veins using his emotions like rungs on a ladder to climb out, to be released. It ached, keeping it at bay, it would feel so good just to release it all, to use it. Get away, he had to get away. He forced it back down, tearing the ladder apart and forcing the emotions out in tears instead as he himself climbed, higher, higher, higher. 

And when he was finally atop the mast, the clouds and wind biting through the streaks on his face. Numb. The chill left him so numb. It was bliss.

Up here, he couldn't hurt anyone. Up here, he was no one. He didn't have to bear the pain of keeping the shattered pieces together between bloodied hands. He couldn't even feel his hands, they were so cold. So numb. He looked down at them, the hands he'd used to hurt his friends, his family. But up here, it didn't hurt, nothing did. He couldn't feel the pain. 

Percy looked to his right, to where Nico had sat and forgiven him. Accepted him for what he was. He hadn't looked surprised, hadn't looked horrified when Percy had told him about Tartarus, about Akhlys. He'd seen the darkness and understood. Fresh agony struck through him so hard, so deep it took the air from his lungs. He'd been so wrapped up in his own chaos he hadn't thought about Nico since the day he'd left. Something rose from the numbness, passing through the hole that agony had punctured through his facade of momentary peace. Determination.

He'd keep it together, he'd force the shards back into place. For Nico. He'd stay focused, push everything down, sleep in the ocean if he had to. He'd swallow the pain each night with his glass of water before bed. He'd get back to camp. Fight this war. Because Nico would be back. He'd come back and everything would be okay. His brother. He'd come home. Percy rose, not fearing the slick surface of his perch. Fearing nothing. 

Get back to camp, defeat Echidna, break the prophecy. He could do that. For Nico, he would ensure there was a camp left standing for him to return to. If Nico had been able to forgive and accept him, then Percy could too, at least until Nico was back, until his brother was safe. And then, they would figure out this darkness together. They could find a way, Percy was sure of it. 

The past was too painful, the present just the same, so he would focus on the future. A future where he was sitting around the bonfire at Camp, Annabeth on one side, Nico on the other, the rest of their friends— their family— surrounding them. No one afraid of dying too young, no one scared of the powers inside them, no one fearful of hope. He would fight for that future. For the seven. For camp half blood. For Nico.

Percy slid down the mast, feet crashing to the deck. His strides were full of purpose as he went to the sickbay, retrieved a box, then burst into the kitchen where everyone was seated around the table of empty plates. Plates that clattered as the table shook from the impact of the box he slammed atop the uneven wooden surface. When he opened it, Annabeth’s eyes grew wary but she said nothing as he proclaimed. 

“We’re what… two days from camp? I think four syringes will do.”

“Percy,” Jason said, “are you seriously suggesting we…”

Percy didn’t lift his gaze from the salvation promised by each needle and chamber of clear liquid. Didn’t dare look to see the twin slices he’d bestowed on Jason’s cheeks last night. Maybe that made him a coward, but he didn’t care. “Sedate me til we get there? Yup pretty much.”

“Are you sure about this?” Frank, it was Frank’s voice that asked. Percy’s freshly healed arm ached at the sound. But he shrugged and forced himself to look up, not at Frank or Jason, but to Annabeth. For her, he could do this for her.

“Positive.”

And that was that.

Chapter Text

The iris message had dissipated moments ago, but Will could still see Reyna struggling to keep her tears at bay as she fought to stay strong; could still feel the words like as on his tongue. He needed to get out, needed to feel the warmth of the sun.

Without a word to the many demigods in the other rooms and hallways as they prepared for the war only two days away, Will hurried from the Big House, needed to ease the strain in his chest. He began to walk aimlessly, head down, focusing only on his breaths and strides. He jolted when he suddenly found that it wasn’t grass beneath his feet, but obsidian steps. Will clenched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. He’d subconsciously walked straight to Cabin 13.

With a look over his shoulder and a deep breath, he climbed the remaining steps and pushed through the heavy doors that were ice cold against his touch— a type of cold that rattled his bones and sent a chill of discomfort throughout his body.

But he knew it was nothing more than a spell placed by one of the Hecate campers upon Nico’s exchange of shed hellhound teeth. A spell meant to scare off any visitors. Will couldn’t help but roll his eyes with a smile; how it was that people didn’t think of Nico as dramatic was beyond him. All this meant Will didn’t so much as startle at the sensation, for he knew it well. Just as he knew the inside of the dark cabin. Knew that despite its shadow filled interior, dark decorum, and frigid unwelcoming door, this cabin was the warmest of them all. 

A sanctum. Nico had made the cabin a safe haven where they could be purely themselves— explore the darkest depths of each other without fear of judgement. It had taken Will a long time to see it— the care taken in every selection of dark fabric, the beauty in the glistening obsidian, the serenity of the rippling pond at the far wall. But now, stepping through the hall with its polished floor that gleamed like a mirror and into the main room that held an unimaginable number of memories, Will felt, for the first time, cold. Empty. He felt the weight of the darkness, the claustrophobia of the shadows, the hollowness in the void of ebony sheets carefully tucked around each corner of the twin sized bed.

The ache returned, so powerful it nearly brought him to his knees. Without Nico, the shadows were just shadows; the darkness was just something to fear. Nico had once told him the reason people feared the dark wasn’t the darkness itself, but the fear of the unknown. How one could never be sure of what was held in its midsts, what it concealed. 

When it had been explained through Nico’s soft lips, Will had found comfort in the explanation, because with Nico he was never afraid of the unknown— no, he enjoyed it— the thrill of not knowing where they were going, only certain of one thing… that they’d do it together. But without Nico here, without his refreshingly cool hand wrapped in his own; without the steady presence beside him, Will was afraid. Afraid of the unknown, of not knowing where Nico was right now what he was feeling, how he was doing… if he… if he would make it to camp at all. Will stood in the center of the massive expanse of the unlit room, atop the mirror-like onyx floors. The shadows clinging to every corner and surface seemed to mock him.

We know everything… see everything… his present… his future… and oh what a future it is

Raising both hands defensively, Will drove the palms of both into his eyes as tears began to rise. When he removed them and the spots left his vision— eyes once again adjusting to the darkness— something caught his attention. First he strode for the heavy curtains and pulled one back, bathing the room in noon-time light. But then he turned to what had grabbed his attention. A memory catching like a ripped seam in his mind had him walking for the ash colored nightstand beside the bed that was diabolically empty.

But the drawer that eased out still contained three objects. A gemstone Hazel had summoned for him— a gift for his birthday— and a journal. The spiral bound sketchbook was a gift from Nico’s sister as well, along with the charcoal pencil placed neatly beside it. Will’s hand ghosted above it before running a hand along the smooth black cover, not needing to open it, for the pages were burned in his memory forever. And he suddenly felt a pang of fear in his heart for the fact that if the journal was here, then Nico had been so long without it. Before he’d grown comfortable enough with Will’s presence alone to quell his night terrors, it was this journal that had brought Nico any semblance of peace.

Because on the nights when Nico couldn’t form words, when his voice refused to work, Nico had learned to release the memories another way. In the beginning of their time together, one night Nico had jolted up and hadn’t been able to speak, only let out strangled sounds and ragged breaths. Will had tried to calm Nico down but he’d scrambled from the bed and tore through his bedside table’s drawer. Will had watched from the bed as Nico fell to the ground clutching the journal and pencil like a lifeline. Will had looked over Nico’s shoulder as he began to sketch the night terror. But it hadn’t been a sloppy drawing, no. The rendering had been filled with so much detail that it seemed more like a window than charcoal on paper. The hyperrealism transcended reality, and Will would never forget how it made him feel as though he were living within it, experiencing the scene himself.

As time went on, the sketchbook would only come out every few weeks. On those nights he’d repeat the same thing as if a ritual, and when the drawing was complete, he would promptly collapse and Will would climb off the bed and hoist Nico’s limp body back onto the mattress— a task that had gotten exponentially harder as time went on and the malnourished lanky skeleton of a boy turned to the tall and muscular frame of a young man. 

Once Nico was safely back under the sheets, tucked in beside Will with his arms wrapped around him like a teddy bear, Will would look at the new addition to the dark pages of the nightmare journal.

They were awful, all of them. Not the works themselves— no, the skill was beyond impressive, each one a masterpiece of shading and detail— but the content itself that made it nearly impossible for him to fall back asleep. Sometimes they were scenes of what he could only assume was Tartarus. Awful hellscapes that left Will wondering how, if he was so gripped by terror just from the charcoal marked paper, how Annabeth and Percy had survived… and Nico on his own.

Other times it was horrifying imagery of Nico’s worst fears. Depictions of the son of Hades himself… standing above a field of corpses. Corpses that looked as if… No , Will shook his head, he wouldn’t think about that. Not right now. He knew it made him a coward, but now, with the knowledge Reyna had enlightened them with… Will could only pray to the shadows in each corner of the dark room that the nightmares remained in the form of charcoal; remained trapped in the pages of the journal and never saw the light of day.

Will slid the drawer shut, and slowly walked to the curtains, drawing them shut and plunging the room into darkness once more. The walls around him seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief. With a sigh of his own that held not an ounce of relief, Will made to leave, only to pause and turn back to the empty room. And in the darkness, the child of light got to his knees. The reflection from the mirrored floors looked haunted. He closed his eyes.

“I’ve never asked anything of you, father, but it is now that I beg to you.” Will pressed his forehead to the cold floor, his hot breath turning to fog as he exhaled deeply and forced his voice to remain steady. “If something happens to him please, please I beg you… give me the strength to save him.”

And for one singular beat of Will’s heart, his body emitted a throbbing glow so bright it diluted the shadow filled room. Will smiled into the darkness before rising on strong legs and making his way back through the hall.

Stepping down the stairs into the radiant light of the sun, the smile was still on his lips. He hadn’t breathed so easily in days.

Shrieks of shattered vocal cords and sharpened blades of steel and gold rang in Nico’s ears with such ferocity that it brought him to his knees. Eyes clenched shut for fear of what he’d see, Nico clamped slick palms over his ears tightly but the sound seeped through his skin and those forbidden tendrils deep within him pounded and thrashed against the icy glass wall, harmonizing with the sounds erupting around him. It’s melody caused his bones to ache not in pain but anticipation.

Some of the screams were louder, clearer than the others and he squeezed his lids closed until he felt pain because those were voices he recognized. Voices he loved. Like a tsunami wave they threatened to drown him but he forced himself into a ball, no more than a drop of ink sinking into the earth drenched in something too thick to be water. 

And then there was nothing. The sudden quiet pierced his ears but before he could adjust to the dead silence or calm his racing heart, a sensation ripped through his chest. Claws. The pain was so great, he was flung from the nightmare and he jolted into an upright position in his sleeping bag. Eyes wide and wild as they darted around, he clasped a hand over his mouth to keep the sound of his labored breathing from waking Reyna who was across the dead fire in her own sleeping bag. As the sensory overload dissipated, the phantom pain diminished allowing for a very real ache to envelope his upper body. His breathing turned ragged from the effort of slowing his breathes for the rapid expanding of his lungs caused the bruises to cry out. It was enough to make his stomach churn, and by the time his nervous system was back on line and synced with reality rather than his unconscious mind causing him to be berated with the full force of his wreaked body and still healing stab wound, Nico barely made it to the treeline before emptying the contents of his stomach.

The pain and lack of substance left him reeling and he half crawled back to the campsite. It left him in a daze as he fell onto his back, unable to move, to think past the nightmare and the blinding agony. It seemed to challenge him, seemed to chant in tandem with the staggered rhythm of his heart— give up, give up, give up.

The glass wall in his mind sent a flash of cold throughout his body and he shivered at the chill. Though it wasn’t a pleasant sensation, he was somehow comforted by it. As if a reminder that he was alive, that he had more to give, that he was more than this pain.

And so, with a barely concealed moan and sheer willpower, Nico pushed himself into a sitting position; bracing himself with his uninjured arm. It shook with effort. He looked to his right, to where Reyna slept. The sight calmed him somehow and he was hit with the urge to tell her about it all— the nightmare, the claws, the chill. 

He got so far as to hover a trembling hand over her shoulder, but caught himself at the last minute and rose with the help of the Parthenos’ firm base. His mind warred with itself; he trusted Reyna, trusted her with his life— and more importantly, his darkest secrets— but he couldn’t stop. Couldn’t stop feeling the need to protect her from the darkness of the world that he knew so well. He knew it was a ridiculous thought— she was a Roman Praetor for gods sake. And yet it was that part of his brain that won out as it whispered, she’s lost enough sleep because of you.

The first part of his brain had no way to combat the thought as it slithered through his mind. So he shook his head— which he quickly realized was a mistake and had to clutch the stone to keep upright— before pushing from the Parthenos and heading into the treeline.

Behind a nearby tree, Nico heard a twig snap. The noise was so slight that only his ears— so tuned from his time in Tartarus— could detect over the rustling leaves from the canopy of trees that trembled in the light of the nearly full moon. He was grateful for the sight his lineage and experience that granted him clear vision despite the darkness shrouding the forest floor.

Knowing he shouldn’t waste his ever dwindling supply of energy, Nico lowered his palm that had begun to burn with pain along his arm and instead unsheathed his blade with practiced silence. They stygian absorbed any traces of moonlight that passed through the thick cover of leaves high above; it’s surface an impenetrable black that comforted his soul as much as the soothing weight of the two rings on his fingers. Quieting his breath, Nico slowly rounded the tree. 

Argentum looked at the blade then at Nico then cocked it’s head.

Nico loosed the breath he’d suppressed and returned his blade to the holster before sliding down the tree despite how it sent his back throbbing violently. His heart was pounding so loudly he was sure the entire world could hear and only the screams— echoes of his nightmare— drowned it out.

Argentum trotted over and sniffed at his left hand inquisitively. With more effort than it should’ve been, Nico reached up to pet the hound’s metal surface and was surprised to find it warm against his frigid palm. It moved closer, lowering that silver head. Nico got the message and scratched behind his pricked ears. A low grumble sounded and Nico thought it was the equivalent of a purr until it sounded again. Nico really didn’t have the energy or knowledge to think of how it was possible for the metallic dog’s stomach to be rumbling with hunger, so he looked into its ruby eyes— those sunken gemstones reminding him of Hazel— and mumbled as he ruffled its hears, “You must be starving.”

With a groan Nico halted his tired, aching body up the tree trunk— for the first time cursing his muscled frame for its weight. But he smiled at Argentum whose tail of silver had begun wagging excitedly. Nico glanced back to the campsite where Reyna was still asleep and Aurum was suddenly sitting alert at her back, then turned back to Argentum.

“Come on,” he jerked his chin to the forest, “there’s gotta be something in these woods for a hungry silver dog.”

The first few steps were rough, but he didn’t have the energy to care. Especially when he knew it’d eventually ease. Argentum stayed close to his side, rubbing against his outer thigh to support him as the ache slowly, painstakingly subsided to a more manageable degree.

When they’d gone just far enough that Nico could no longer see the Parthenos behind them, Argentum went completely still. Nico halted. Argentum’s ears perked, head whipping sharply to the left, into the depths of the forest. Jerking his head to the side, Nico signaled Argentum to get behind him as he unsheathed his blade; once again putting him into that killing calm the moment his palm was wrapped around the hilt. Prowling through the forest floor, Nico slowed his breathing and ceased it all together when the birds stopped chirping. But when a wave of coldness swept towards him, causing the rings on his fingers to grow cold, Nico let out the trapped breath that came out a visible fog, momentarily suspended in the frigid air. He rolled his eyes and stepped into the small clearing to his left, returning the stygian blade to its sheath.

Because leaning against the massive trunk of a towering oak was the King of the Underworld; god of riches, god of death. 

As he entered the clearing, Nico didn’t think he’d ever get used to how his father appeared in his mid thirties, nor how he could stand so absolutely still; more still than the tree he rested against. There was a reason in ancient times he was referred to as The Silent One.

Besides his abilities, pale complexion, and unparalleled trust issues, Nico had also inherited Hades’ appreciation— love, even— for silence. They both found indescribable comfort in it, and Nico knew that to Hades, silence was a holy thing because no god or goddess had control of it. It was a power, a magic than anyone could possess, and yet so few cared enough to wield it. And Hades’ presence alone was a testament to his love for Nico more powerful than words could ever come close to.

So Nico stood across from the god, the king, his father, and said nothing. Not a word as Hades took in his son. Nico could feel that gaze linger on the dark circles beneath his eyes, the bandage peaking out beneath the short sleeves of his shirt, and then on his shoulders as if he could sense the dead skin cells of his bruised upper half. And yet the king said nothing. That face— seemingly hewn from bone itself in all it’s harsh sharpness and lack of pigment— was blank. And so Nico looked right back, taking in the layers of darkness rippling from the god; the contrast against that pale complexion giving the appearance his skin was aglow. And that darkness, those shadows pouring from him, Nico knew they did not kill the grass beneath his black leather shoes nor the bark of the tree at his back from pure willpower alone. A testament to his strength. 

But Nico knew his father wasn’t showing off; Nico knew Hades thought it beneath him to prove. It was more that he was burdened with so much power that he had to constantly expel some of it. Nico wondered if it would be the same for him if he were to reach for that power locked within him beyond that glass wall. If he would be too overwhelmed to contain it, to control it as Hades did now. For Nico was no god.

“Why are you here, father?” Nico’s words came out more exhausted than anything, and he had to place a hand on the tree nearest him as the throb of his ruined body escalated. Hades watched every movement, every shuttered breath with that unflinching intensity, saying nothing until— 

“I spoke with Hypnos about your… difficulty sleeping.” Of all the things Hades’ could have said, Nico wasn’t expecting that. He blinked, dumbfounded as his father continued. “Unfortunately, short of wiping your memories, he said nothing can be done.”    

“Oh.” Nico swallowed roughly, “Well thanks for trying.”

And though a silent nod was his only reply, Nico could tell there was more his father had to say. But it seemed as though he were dragging it out, as if his father was simply enjoying the company of his son. The forest was still in a suspended silence, the birds and wildlife nowhere to be seen or heard, but finally the god crossed his arms before his chest in a swift motion.

“The glass wall you sense. Do not attempt to touch it again.” Oh, oh… that’s why he was here. The shock must have been plainly shown on his face because Hades said, “You must have questio-”

“Hazel,” Nico breathed with a desperation he hadn’t realized he’d been internalizing for months. “Does Hazel have it too?”

Hades shook his head.

“And Jason?”

Hades shook his head again, and just like that, a weight was lifted from Nico’s chest. Only to be crushed again with an even more staggering question. How . His father sensed the word in the silence and lifted his head to the cloud choked twilight sky.

“The abilities beyond that glass wall are a rarity to the highest degree. Hazel cannot not… nor Bianca in her lifetime… as it is impossible for multiple kin to possess it at once. I could of course be wrong about Jason, but I do not sense it in him, just as I had sensed Thalia did not. All stronger than most demigods, but what lives within you is an anomaly so rare most believe it to be no more than myth. Most who have had it perished long before reaching their full potential.” 

Hades dropped his gaze back to Nico, expression blank as a slate of marble. “And rarer still for two to be born and reach maturity.”

Nico suddenly found it difficult to breathe. He felt like the forest was closing in on him, the trees becoming that of the bottle he’d been trapped in with nothing but stale air and pomegranate seeds.

“So all this time, you’ve known?” Nico’s voice grew cold, the grass beneath his feet withering. “You’ve known Percy and I had this in us and you did nothing? Didn’t teach us to control it? Didn’t so much as warn us?”

The rage boiling in his veins was brought to a confused simmer at the flash of anguish on Hades’ face. It cleared from his features as quickly as it had shown, though something like pain remained in the god’s dark eyes.

“Long have I sensed something to be off with Percy Jackson, hence my efforts to keep distant from him— though I never imagined he was one of the cursed. Not until Hazel contacted me yesterday did I know for certain.”

“What are you talking about?” Nico asked breathlessly.

“You already know.”

“Can he control it?”

Hades shook his head.

“Can I?"

The god shook his head again.

“And me, did you know about me?”

This time, Hades responded with words. “You being of my ichor prevents me from a great many things, such as sensing the curse within you.”

“But what is it? You say a curse, does that mean it can be broken? Is it even possible to learn to control it?”

“I say curse for lack of a better word. It is more of a way to serve balance. So little is known about—”

“Stop,” Nico interjected harshly though it came out more akin to a plea. Between his hands, Nico shook his head. It was too much uncertainty, too few answers. “You’re a god! A king! How can you not know?!”

Hades’ voice remained that insufferable calm, that impossible emotionlessness as he took a controlled breath and said, “It is a phenomena predating Chaos herself. Rhea told Zeus, Poseidon, and I of its existence but very little more. So few have supreme knowledge of the topic; a knowledge only the Fates and Lupe obtain.”

“Lupe?” Nico knew of the being, but had never seen it. Lupe, the first of the three Algea. Spirit of pain and grief. Goddess of distress. 

Hades nodded. “She resides in the underworld as she has for millennium and has provided me with bits and pieces of information— but it is nothing you do not already know. Tartarus taught you much.” 

“Why don’t you ask her for more? Have her tell you everything? You are her king.”

“Lupe has no king. Serves no master. Is bound by nothing, save the immortal code in her ichor that forbids her from speaking of it. The same code that physically prevents gods and goddesses from altering their own children’s futures, or keeping them from death.” 

“So the monsters in Tartarus were speaking the truth. I’m a- a…” he couldn’t say it. Couldn’t get his voice to produce the words.

Hades nodded solemnly, “The power you and Percy Jackson hold within you is capable of killing a god. You are God Killers.”

“We could defeat Echidna, win the war.”

“You could level entire civilizations if you wished. But without control, without knowledge, you both would sooner destroy yourselves, your Camp, your friends.” Hades pushed himself from the tree, those eyes piercing against the white of his skin, and he repeated, “Do not touch that wall. Not until I can bring you to Lupe. Not until she can teach you.”

Nico made to nod, but something was still nagging at him. “How did you know I’d been reaching for it?”

“It came to me in a vision. I was rowing along the Styx when it struck me so hard, Persephone had to catch me.” Under different circumstances, Nico might have laughed as he imagined what must have been a ridiculous sight. He did not laugh. Especially not as Hades closed his eyes for a moment, his voice lowering. “For days there has been this dull ringing in my ear which only happens before a mass slaughter. A war.”

“Will Echidna succeed? Will Gaea rise?”

“I am no oracle. All I can tell is that a great many deaths loom.”

Nico had nothing to say, not as the weight of those words, the confirmation of the prophecy pressed against his chest like a vice. He couldn’t think about it now, couldn’t stray his focus from his part in it all— getting Reyna and the Parthenos back to Camp, that’s all he needed to worry about right now. All of this could wait. Something deep in his core told him he needed to find Percy, needed to be with him and sort this all out together.

As if Hades had read the words of his silence, Hades nodded. “Hazel will be waiting for you both. She has been storing her strength and is prepared to shadow travel you both to safety. Stay off the battlefield.” He warned. “Whatever you do. You and Percy must reunite, it is together you will be strongest. But do not let one another be tempted by the power chained within.”

The god took a moment to peer up at the starlit sky through a break in the clouds. He did not lower his gaze as he said, “You must return to Camp.” Not a threat nor a command, for there was no harshness to the words. Tearing his dark eyes from the stars as the clouds concealed them once more, Hades looked to Nico. “As a father, I have asked nothing of you. It is as such that I ask you now, take Reyna’s strength. Whatever she has, whatever she is willing to give. Take it.”

“Why?”

“You will not emerge from the next jump without it.”

The bluntness struck Nico more deeply than he’d expected. The possibility of failure had always been in his head, but to hear the words spoken aloud by the god of death himself…  “You’re saying I’ll die.”

Hades let silence be his answer. But then he spoke a word not meant for immortal tongues, “Please, Nico. Please.”

The lack of sleep, the ache in his muscles, the burn at his arm, the weight of information that could damn or save them all… it was too much. And now this, being confronted with death had never scared Nico before, he’d welcomed it’s salvation for so long he didn’t know any other way to think of it. But now… there was so much he had left to do. So much more he needed to give. Nico felt his father’s eyes on him, on the bruises and evidence of his lack of sleep and deteriorating body. When he heard Hades’ mouth open, Nico interjected. “If something happens to me, I need you to promise me something.”

Hades said nothing.

“Promise you’ll watch after Percy.”

A single dark brow raised so slightly Nico only caught it because he’d been watching Hades’ face with equal intensity. “There is something untamable in that boy and a darkness even I do not fully understand.”

“Who better to help him learn to conquer it than you and Persephone?” Nico challenged. Dangerous, so dangerous to ask such a thing from the being before him, father or not. The way Hades’ pinned him beneath those unforgiving void-like irises… Nico didn’t move a muscle even as his instincts screamed at him to run. For it was the look of a being who had seen and done unfathomable things. 

In a movement so graceful, so effortless he seemed made of smoke, Hades removed a shard of material, white as snow, from the depths of his billowing robe of darkness. Before Nico could so much as blink, a slender line of gold illuminated the forest as it welled between the folds of immortal tissue were sliced open in the god’s left palm. Without so much as a wince and not once parting his eyes from Nico’s, Hades clenched the palm tightly, pressing his fingers into the gash. Like drops of molten gold, the ichor fell to the grass.

“On the river Styx, I promise on this day that should you be struck down, I will treat Perseus Jackson as kin.”

Nico couldn’t stop his jaw from dropping. His father couldn’t be serious. Gods never swore with ichor. Never. The very act bound all gods to the fulfillment of the promise. To lesser gods, it was forbidden on punishment by the very god before him. This was more than a promise, more than a show of love. It was a declaration to Nico from the King of Death himself. An honor greater than all else. 

The ichor collided with the grass, killing the blades on impact and seeping into the earth where no force would stop it from finding the Styx. And just like that, it was done.

Nico was speechless, he was awestruck. What his father had just done… it had been from a place of immeasurable love. And that’s when it hit Nico, because he shared another trait with his father; the difficulty in expressing things such as love. This had been a declaration to Nico, an act to touch his soul in a way words never could. Tears welled in Nico’s eyes, hot burning tears as he read the lines of Hades’ face. His father loved him. Nico had always known that, of course. But over the years it had gotten harder to actually feel it from the god so lacking in warmth by his very nature to no fault of his own. This was an apology, an amends that even Nico didn’t deserve.

Because it was wrong. So wrong. Gods weren’t supposed to feel this way about their children, or at least they so rarely did that it often felt as though there was some silent law that forbade the kind of love his father was admitting to. 

“T-thank you, father.” It was all he could think to say. Those words would never be enough— didn’t even come close to touching what had just occurred in the forest clearing so enveloped in night. But Hades nodded, tilting his head lower than any before. And the god shocked Nico once more as he parted his lips; because the voice that spoke was hoarse, unguarded.

“Nico…” His words were strained, and Nico thought he must be imagining it but that was definitely pain in the god’s eyes as he continued, “You understand that if you… if something should happen to you…there is nothing I can do. Any being that shares my blood, I am physically incapable of altering their path. No regeneration. No do overs. That power beyond the glass wall, the shifting in your blood, none of it grants you immortality. You would be put on trial as any other spirit.” Then came the words that Nico could actually feel pain radiating from, the shadows rolling off Hades growing darker, “... I would be powerless to stop it. Just as… just as I was powerless to save Bianca.”

The words, the guilt, the rage, all unspoken between them until now hung heavy in the night time air. Nico’s voice was barely louder than the breeze as he said, “I know.”

“So please, Nico,” there was that word again, that phrase that stripped the god down to a mortal begging the universe to have mercy on his son, “Please do not allow that to happen. I… I cannot lose another child.”

Tears threatened to line Nico’s eyes but he flicked them to the sky, where a small patch of stars glittered through the clouds. He was probably imagining it, but he could’ve sworn one twinkled at him. A single star that cast the same feeling as Bianca’s smile through his soul. Hades cleared his throat eloquently and Nico’s gaze fell back to his father.

“Persephone sent a gift,” the god said with the slightest hint of amusement in that flat voice, “threatened to skewer me if I did not deliver.”

“What gi-”

The words caught in his throat because Hades was suddenly there, right in front of him, shadows thick around the god like a smoky aura— evidence of a shadow jump. And before Nico could think of what was happening, he was in Hades’ arms. 

Cold, he was so cold. But so was Nico. Never in all his life had his father embraced him; not because Hades didn’t love his son, no, more that it was an unspoken agreement between them. Neither were particularly fond of physical contact, so Hades had developed a way over the years of showing his love— the silver skull ring, decorating Nico’s cabin when he thought Nico wasn’t looking, leaving small gifts under that tree of his. Nico rarely thanked Hades— not because he was ungrateful or spoiled or rude, but because Hades, like Nico, shared a dislike for the awkwardness of gratification. 

It crushed his bruises and sent screams of agony throughout the entirety of his nervous system, but Nico wrapped the arms that had been hanging limply at his sides around Hades. And they stood in that forest, locked in the embrace of Death, together. Father and son, King and Prince of darkness, of shadows, of death. Nico had never felt so at peace in all his life. 

Some emotional hole he’d grown blind to all these years was suddenly filling, overflowing. It ruptured something deep within the chasms of his heart. Nico knew his relationship with his father wasn’t normal— god or no— but to Nico, it was perfection. He’d always looked up to his father and despite everything, had learned a lot from him. How to stay distant for the good of others, how to love fiercely and purely, how to not fear the darkness inside him, and above all how to be unapologetically himself.

Hades pulled back and looked down at his son, the ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his lip. “I love you so much, Nico.”

For a moment, Nico was speechless. He was lost in the depths of his father’s eyes, drowning in the pride he saw there. Pride for him. His son. And it was through a lump in his throat that Nico said, “Another gift from Persephone?”  

Hades let out a chime of laughter, his lips pulling back far enough to see how, the farther back, the more pointed the teeth got. He pulled Nico into him once more, holding on so tightly Nico felt it was as if his father was afraid he’d lose him if he let go. 

Nico felt Hades plant a gentle kiss on the top of his head, reminding him of the last time he’d seen Hazel, and said, “From us both.”

And then the god, the king, the father vanished.

Nico stood in the center of the clearing for a moment before looking over at Argentum who sat cowering by a tree. “Sorry we’ll hunt in a second, there’s someone else I’ve gotta talk to.”

Argentum grumbled disapprovingly but was silent as Nico made the iris message. When it was over and the mist had dissipated, Nico felt heavier than ever before; crushed beneath the weight of the promises he’d now made claim to.

The old him would’ve been elated— relieved, even— by the promises owed to him should things go bad. The old him would’ve moved through the forest light as a feather, maybe been able to sleep an extra hour from the peace it would’ve brought him to have the assurance that if he failed, if he didn’t return to camp, if he passed into the land far below, that these promises would be fulfilled. 

But he didn’t feel any of those things. 

Because the old him didn’t know Will or Reyna, the old him had a splintered fragment of hatred towards Percy, the old him was grieving Bianca with a vengeance that ate at his soul, the old him was freshly reeling from Tartarus and ran on nothing but rage and pain.

And though pain had long since become a part of him, and trauma added to the mix, Nico shared so little with the old him. Because not an ounce of his soul, not a shard of his mosaic heart— shattered and fused back together again by Will and Percy and Reyna and Hazel— wanted those promises to ever be fulfilled. 

And so, Nico decided then and there in the clearing beneath the clouds and stars that he would do whatever it took to make sure those promises stayed promises and nothing more. And it was that thought that lifted a weight from Nico’s chest. He glanced down at Argentum. The hound wagged his metal tail in anticipation. Nico set his jaw, the smallest of smiles gracing his lips as he unsheathed his blade then nodded.

And together, they ventured into the darkness. 

As Aphrodite had guessed, Zeus had planned the perfect night. Five nymphs, a fountain of nectar, a tray of the freshest ambrosia. But when he’d arrived, only four were present. Apparently the fifth had discovered just that morning that she was pregnant by some dryad. The inconvenience spared a thought in the God King’s mind which he contemplated only after indulging himself.

The thought was simple; he needed a backup plan. With the solace a mere two days away, he realized a blindspot in his plan. A ‘what if’ that his vision had been too clouded the past days to see. Because if that di Angelo boy survived the unleashing of his powers, what then? If there was some way he’d be able to control it, Zeus’ plan would fall apart before it ever began. 

The chance was ridiculously low, but when the price was his throne, Zeus refused to take the chance. All of which had led him here, in a spire atop one of the smaller cliffs located at the opposite end of Olympus to Zeus’ castle.

The spire was completely constructed by mosaic tiles that made no particular image, yet painted the inner rooms with a multitude of colors. Standing within circular walls of one of the many rooms within the structure, Zeus ran a hand across the feathery back of his eagle. The magnificent bird puffed its plumage and ruffled its feathers at the show of affection from its eternal master, for all eagles were Zeus’ creation.

Perched on a post at the center of the room, the eagle clicked its mighty beak at the polecat and strange dog that skittered and prowled along the circular room, keeping to the farthest reaches of the floor, their fur scraping against the brick inner walls and glass outer walls.

Zeus gave the two animals— previous enemies of their owner who had been morphed into these seemingly mortal creatures— a warning glare though they paid no mind. It was an effort for the God King to reign his withering patience; he’d waited until morning so that the three sided goddess would be in her Morning form, the only of the three who wasn’t repulsed by Zeus’ presence. For she still clung to the grudge for being claimed a minor goddess, as well as for the treatment of her children. A grudge that ran strong in all three forms. But over the millennia he’d been working on getting at least one to be in favor of him. 

Zeus looked back to the animals in perpetual motion. The Noon form despised him while Night had actually placed wards in the spire that prevented him from stepping foot inside after sundown. Hera had been furious to hear the obvious disrespect to the crown, but Zeus had simply assured his wife that he was still the one in control of the three faced goddess. The goddess who mustn't be far for the creatures to be here and after another moment of waiting, he parted his lips to demand they go retrieve her. Before a single word could reach his tongue, the wooden double doors flew open.

Green eyes fell upon the bird, that shoulder length curly blond hair and the swirling orange marks on the exposed skin of her arms through the simple yet expertly crafted white robes all told Zeus that it was indeed the Morning form he was in the presence of.

“Good morning, Hecate.”

Those eyes, emerald to the point of poison, darted to him at the greeting then back to the room’s centerpiece. Making no effort to return the gesture, she only stepped closer to the wooden stand and the eagle perched atop it with talons nearly the size of her hand. The polecat rushed across the floor, climbing up the flowing robes and perching itself on the goddesses shoulder as if in mockery to the bird.

She did not look to the king as her voice filled the room. “What is it you seek?”

“You are an expert in morphing,” he gave a pointed look to the fur curled up on her shoulder, purring as it slept, “as well as manipulating the Mist.”

“What is it you seek?” she repeated, turning to face him this time. There was Greek fire in her eyes but they were but a simmer compared to her other two forms. 

Zeus squared his shoulders and ran a hand along the bird’s spine as he asked nonchalantly, “Are you familiar with the monsters of Echidna?”

The dog barked and Hecate remained unflinching as she held Zeus’ gaze. When she did not speak, Zeus realized the dog had for her. Zeus cleared his throat.

“I was wondering if it would be possible to transform my eagle— either with Mist manipulation or magic— into one of her beasts?”

Hecate and her animals remained quiet. After a moment of silent staring, the goddess tore her gaze from the king and walked a slow circle around the bird in contemplation. The whirls on her arms glowed faintly yet she pinned those green eyes on him once more and asked, “For what reason?”

This would be the hardest part, but also a test. If he could fool her… the rest of the gods would fall in line easily at his strung together tale. So he didn’t hesitate for a single second as he contorted his face the way he’d practiced in the reflection of his bathing pool. With shadows of sorrow and what he hoped looked to be that of fatherly pain and anticipatory grief, he lowered his voice, removing the usual harshness from it.

“The war our children are to fight on the Solace… should they fail and Gaea rise, such a diversion could be a valuable asset to us all.”

“A way to get past the front lines. Annihilate her ranks from the inside...” Hecate said to herself deep in thought. Though not versed in war, Hecate was a scholar of potions and magic, and the mage had undoubtedly crossed paths with Athena or Ares in the catacombs of knowledge before. Zeus kept the disguise on his features as he watched the goddess consider his words. But Zeus had seen it— he had her at the word ‘children’. This was a goddess yes, but also a mother who cared deeply for her children— a trait all three of her forms shared. A weakness practically begging Zeus to exploit. It was an effort not to smile as Hecate turned to the bird, something new burning in those orbs of Greek fire.

A puff of glittering white smoke and then… 

What appeared on the floor— where the eagle and post had just been—  was enough to render the King of the Gods speechless.

Chapter Text

By the time the sedative had worn off— the drug releasing Percy from it’s murky depths— and his fluttering eyelids finally parted open, Annabeth was at his side.  Without words, she helped him sit up before reaching across the mattress to help slide his legs over the edge. On the count of three— one of his arms behind her neck— she hoisted him from the bed. Thankfully it was a short walk to the bathroom and Percy gave a delirious yet firm nod that he was coherent enough for her to wait outside the door. 

A few moments later, the door opened again and he stood in the threshold with an arm braced against the door frame, leaning heavily against it. Head hung between his shoulders, he squinted at the morning light streaming in through the small window. 

It was hard for Annabeth to bear watching Percy be rendered so disoriented from being sedated all of yesterday. Hard to stand by and watch him breathe in and out unsteadily, knuckles white as they gripped the wood like a lifeline. She had a feeling that the powers Percy was keeping at bay were thrashing inside him, needing to be released after so long in drugged slumber. 

That all too familiar crushing weight of concern threatened to freeze Annabeth, but she quickly reached out as Percy staggered forward. But he raised a pleading hand, using the other to catch himself and regain his balance against the wall. He steadied himself and took a breath before taking another step towards the bed— falling to the ground instead.

The powers inside him lurched as Annabeth did, but she caught the glint in his eye and took a large step back.

“Percy?”

“Sor-ry give… just g-give me a… just a sec…” Lingering traces of the drug slurred his speech so Percy closed his eyes and ran a palm over his face, focusing on his breathing. Focusing on forcing that power back down, down, down. There was so much pressure on his core it felt like his ribs were bruising from the inside, but he locked that writhing thing inside not caring how much it hurt. His eyes squeezed tightly shut, jaw clenching, brows furrowing from the effort, but then finally finally it succeeded. 

Feeling less volatile, Percy opened his eyes slowly, squinting again in the light. He tilted his head up from where he was braced against the floor, looking to Annabeth then the bed and back again.

“Uh… sorry b-but could… do you thi-nk you… can you…” Annabeth had bent down and placed his arm over her shoulder before he could finish voicing the thought. She hauled him up and they staggered for the mattress once more. 

Yesterday had been worse, so much worse. He’d gotten nauseous after the first syringe— technically the second, since he’d gotten one the night before after the fight against Jason— and Leo had gotten Festus to put the Argo into the water. Being closer to the ocean definitely helped and had allowed Percy to keep down the large quantities of food Piper had brought in and he’d scarfed down ravenously. But at least the nausea had distracted him from the agony raging inside his core as it did now.

Annabeth did her best to rearrange the pillows before easing his upper body onto the mattress. Percy’s chest heaved from the effort of remaining upright while she did, and gave her a look of thanks when he was finally able to lay down.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, dragging a wet cloth across his gleaming forehead. Another effect of the sedation— Percy tended to overheat. Most likely caused by the effort of having his body, and those powers, fighting against the restraint.

Percy couldn’t hold back the moan of relief at the coolness of the water and it took him a moment to respond. “Mhmm ‘ts better than… than yester… day.”

“Any nightmares?” 

“No.” That had been the most unexpected thing for them all. For some reason his mind went completely blank when he was under the drugs thrall. It made no sense, especially when they were all aware of the very negative response Nico had to it. But none questioned it. They deserved a win for once.

Annabeth nodded and gave him a nudge on his shoulder. “Hey, hang in there. We’ll be there soon.”

“And t-the… the others? H-how are th- Agh!” Percy cried out, curling in on himself with a groan as his powers sent a strike to his core so suddenly he couldn’t form the words to tell Annabeth to get back. 

The pressure became so intense he choked on air as he struggled to breathe. Out. It wanted out.

Finally, finally it settled back, the pain becoming more manageable and he flattened himself out on his back. The mattress was soft, the pillows in the optimal position to support his neck and head, yet he was unimaginably uncomfortable. Staying still for so long— being sedated and forced into unnaturally invoked sleep— went against his very nature as a demigod. And this forcing, locking down of his power seemed only to make it grow and build inside him. But it didn’t matter how much it hurt, how agonizing the sensation was. Because they were almost to Camp— just a day away— and as he lay here on this bed feeling sorry for himself, Nico and Reyna were hopefully preparing to make the final stretch of their journey. Not just the last jump, but the longest. 

Nico, he reminded himself, do this for Nico. 

Percy set his jaw and though it sent a spear of pain through his core to grapple the power back down, he reached for Annabeth’s hand. Her skin was so smooth yet so calloused as he held it in his own. His gaze drifted to the peppering of marks on the crook of his outstretched arm. Just above the SPQR tattoo. The injection sites were slightly red and itched with a vengeance. 

He hated the sedative. Hated it’s repressive nature. Hated that it was trapping his powers and his energetic personality inside him. Hated the burn of the drug as it entered his system. Hated how he could feel it shooting through his veins like fire. Hated that he was so weak and useless to wield the power inside of him to the point it had led to this— sedating him like an unruly beast. But it didn’t matter. None of it did. Because soon, too soon, he would be on the killing field. Some part of him calmed at the thought. In battle, there were no rules. It was the one place where he could unleash himself on the world and be praised for it. Where his inner ferocity could save the lives of those he loved. 

But this would be different from any he’d faced before. Because before, unleashing himself simply meant becoming a swirling storm of water and celestial bronze. But now… armed with power he could barely control and knew so little about… it would mean so much more. 

Percy felt Annabeth’s eyes on him. He looked up and let his own become unguarded, unmasked. Let her see every ounce of doubt and fear and shame in them. Because despite everything he’d already done, despite all he’d shown he was becoming, she was here. Here beside him, stroking the back of his hand with her thumb despite the horrors the palm she held could evoke. She was here, unflinching, unperturbed, unafraid. She was here.

“Annabeth?” His throat was dry, voice husky, but he shook his head as she reached for the glass of water by the bed and squeezed her hand a little tighter. Those grey eyes were tired, but present and clear.

“Yes, Percy?”

He raised his eyes from their interlocked hands to look at her. “I’m a monster.”

And Annabeth was glad, so so so glad she hadn’t told him everything. So glad she had made the others swear secrecy. So glad that he didn’t know that Reyna had called nor the horrifying truths she’d spoken. Annabeth knew, logically, that if anything went wrong, this secrecy would backfire and Percy would be upset that she’d kept it from him. But it was a risk she was willing to take. She didn’t care if he hated her, didn’t care if he never spoke to her again once he discovered they’d all kept the intel from him, because as she met his eyes, those breathtakingly beautiful eyes, all she saw was pain. It made her want to destroy the world regardless of the consequences.

The thought struck her but more so the realization that it wasn’t an exaggeration. Maybe she was becoming monstrous as well. The thought didn’t scare her as much as it would have mere months ago. 

Annabeth brought the rag across his brow and she could tell he was fighting to stay awake, fighting to keep the trapped powers contained. But he didn’t tell her to go. He didn’t try to escape. He stayed there, under her touch, hand in his own despite the anguish it quite clearly was causing him. 

God Killer. That’s what he was. Annabeth was hit with a flash of frustration and anger. Because while she and the others now knew more than they had before, there were still too many questions, too much left to discover. What did it even mean? She had no clue, and that alone made her more furious than her mother’s silence these days when Athena had neglected any and all prayers or pleas to help. But with a slow, controlled breath, Annabeth forced her features to ease as she looked down at him. She might not know what a God Killer was, but a monster… 

“Did you know the word monster came from the Latin root ‘monstrum’? It means divine messenger of catastrophe. ” He let out a huff of amusement. She could’ve drowned in that sound. “But then the French adapted it to mean an being of multiple origins.” His unruly locks of dark hair were thoroughly damp and she gently removed her palm from his hand to push them off his burning skin. “To be a monster just means to be a hybrid. And on that basis… all of us on this ship, all of our family at Camp, every single demigod… are monsters.” 

She nestled her hand into his own once more to prove she was not afraid of those calloused palms scared beyond reason. Wasn’t scared of their rough surface that was soft for only her, nor the horrifying things they were capable of. “There’s so much we don’t understand. You aren’t alone though. You and Nico, you’ll figure it out together. And I’ll be beside you every step of the way.”

He was silent for a few moments as his tired mind struggled to absorb her words and stumbled over his own thoughts. Finally, he glanced to their hands that rest on the sweat soaked sheets of his bed and said, “Will you promise me something?”

After a moment of silence of her own to read the emotions he’d left on display for her to read, Annabeth nodded despite the sense of dread that settled into her bones right beside Reyna’s information.

“Don’t let me lose control,” his voice was barely a whisper, though strong and sure. “Whatever you have to do— no matter what happens, no matter what I say or how I beg— just… just don’t let me become worse than Echidna’s beasts.”

She considered this, and though they’d all proven that she alone nor the others were capable of stopping him, the neurons in her mind began to fire. “I think the best way to ensure that doesn’t happen is if you don’t access the powers at all. Water, yes, but… anything else… I can only guess it would be like opening a floodgate. Especially after all of this,” she jerked her chin to the angry marks on his arm just above that sickening brand the Roman’s had given him.

Percy nodded and though something like fear flashed across his features, she could tell he was comforted somewhat by her words. He gestured to the remaining two full syringes resting on the bedside table. They were silent as she picked up the device, it’s metal cold in her hand, and as she located the throbbing vein once more. The needle caught slightly as it punctured the burning skin— something she’d noticed was becoming more difficult each time, as if the flesh itself were strengthening— and Percy winced but remained completely still.

Once she’d delivered the liquid into his vein, Annabeth returned the now empty syringe to the table and climbed atop the mattress. Percy’s eyes didn’t leave her face as she moved to sit beside him. By the time she was situated with a hand running the damp cloth across his brow again, Percy’s eyelids had begun to droop.

But before he was pulled under, Annabeth pulled the rag away and looked deep into those sea green eyes to promise, “We’ll win this fight the old fashion way. Together.”

A lazy smile graced Percy’s lips and though his eyes finally grew too heavy to open, he whispered into the silent room, “Wise girl,” with an impossible amount of love in those two words.

And then, he was gone.

The soft, reassuring smile she’d been wearing fell the moment his breathing evened out. She ran the cloth across his forehead and neck a few times before throwing it to the bedside table and curling up beside Percy on the small mattress. She was mostly on top of him since he filled up most of the bed, but even as heat rolled off of him, she didn’t mind.

As her head rose and fell atop his broad chest, Annabeth listened to the steady rhythm of his beating heart. With a gentle hand, she ran her palm across the ridges of his muscled torso, relishing in the warmth and strength there. But as her hand lingered at a spot on his core, she couldn’t help but feel a flash of hatred for the slumbering power coiled deep inside. Hated it for making her do this to him. Sedating him like some wild animal that couldn’t be trusted. But her trust and love for Percy was stronger than her hatred for the power trapped within him against his will. How could she not trust him? How could she not love him? How could she not when Luke, when Thalia, when even her own father had left her for evil, for Artemis, for another family… and it was Percy who had stayed.

Percy had chosen her over and over again. Chosen her when hanging from that cliff suspended above Tartarus. Chosen her when taking the weight of the sky in her place. Chosen her over immortality . 

She’d never forget that day. Never in all her life forget the way he’d stood in the hall of the gods, before the God King himself, and looked at no one, nothing but her . He was hers and she was his. For as long as they had. So she felt not a shred of fear as she rested her hand flat across that spot of such prophetic annihilation and closed her eyes, letting herself be carried away on the waves of his saltwater scent. 

Reyna awoke to an empty camp. The sleeping bag beside her was splayed open as if it had been left in a hurry. Strange, she hadn’t been awakened by anything. Fear gripped her throat as she rushed around the Parthenos to find Nico's usual thinking spot empty. 

After swiveling in a circle she forced her feet to freeze.

Calm down, Reyna. Think. 

With a forced deep breath to calm the rising anxiety she brought two fingers to her mouth and blew. Not a moment later was Aurum before her awaiting the next command. Reyna grew more worried at the absence of Argentum but before allowing fear to control her again like some untrained demigod child, she spoke to Aurum. 

“Find Nico.” 

The hound lifted its golden nose into the air for a moment, those ruby eyes glinting in the sunlight, his metal body the sun's echo. Catching the scent, his head swiveled and with a bark bounded off into the woods.

She found Nico quite a ways from the campsite crouched over the forest floor where a very dead deer lay. There was sweat beaded on Nico's brow when he looked up to her before continuing to filet the deer. 

“Morning. Argentum was hungry so I got him a deer. There’s plenty for Aurum too.”

Reyna's mouth went slightly agape. With the shadow traveling that melted her mind every time, she had completely forgotten about feeding them yesterday. And she was also surprised that Nico had hunted for them. But then she noticed the dark circles beneath his eyes. 

“Nico,” she said gently, “did you sleep last night?”

He didn’t respond for a few moments as he used his upper body to push sharply against a bone with his dirtied hands. Leaning back on his heels, the cracking of bone echoed in the silent forest before he whispered sheepishly, “No.”

“At all?”

This time Nico glanced up at her for a moment. Despite his best efforts to hide it, it was an obvious effort for him to get up, after which he limped slightly to wipe the blade and his hands on a moss covered tree stump. 

“‘Bout an hour.”

He was avoiding her gaze and while Aurum joined Argentum, lunging for a cut of meat Nico had laid out specifically for the hound of gold, Reyna put a hand on Nico's shoulder but removed it quickly at the soft grunt and clenched teeth. He turned, eyes slowly rising to meet hers.  

She stayed quiet, knowing he knew exactly what she was going to ask. But she had learned the only way to get any sort of response from him was to not voice the question. So she spoke with her eyes. 

Are you okay?

With a defeated sigh, he turned back to his kill and Reyna noted he wasn’t hiding the exhaustion that slumped his shoulders nor the slight limp to his gait. For the son of Hades, it was more of an answer than words. He remained silent as he knelt down to wrap their portion of meat into large leaves he’d gathered.

All around them, the rustling trees reminded Nico of crashing waves, of a gentle tide. Percy. It reminded him of Percy. Hades’ words filled Nico’s ears, nestling in with the chirping birds hidden in the canopy of trees high above. Percy’s abilities had manifested. They’d manifested and where was he? Two jumps away and sitting on his heels packaging deer into leaves. A tugging in his gut told Nico he needed to get back to Percy. They could go to Lupe, together. They could figure this out, together. 

Nico could only imagine what Percy was feeling right now, how alone and lost, how crushing the darkness inside him would be without anyone there to decipher it. And Nico knew that no matter how much the Seven loved and cared for Percy, he knew they wouldn’t understand fully. Knew they’d be looking at Percy with fear, with confusion, with all the things Percy didn’t need right now. Only Nico would be able to stare at Percy, at all of Percy even the darkest corners, unflinchingly. God Killers, that’s what they were. From what his father had revealed, it sounded as though they were an anomaly, that for them both to be carriers of the ‘curse’ had never occurred. It made Nico think that separated as they were, was dangerous. That apart, they were volatile. That together, maybe they could calm each other’s raging powers that demanded release. The nightmarish tendrils of impossible darkness halted in their pounding against the glass wall in his mindscape as they had been doing with increasing vigor as they days and jumps drug on.

The son of Hades looked up, but the canopy was so dense he couldn’t see the sky. And though it was morning, he yearned to see the star from last night just one more time. Wished he could feel Bianca smiling down at him.

“My father appeared a few hours ago.” His throat bobbed and he met her eye, dragging them down from the sky, as if searching for something, or maybe just to catch her reaction as he added, “He’s… concerned.”

Her eyes went wide. The god of death had been meters away from her and she’d been asleep. Normally just the slightest of Nico’s movements would’ve been enough to wake her, but she supposed the jumps were taking a lot more out of her now that she was actually contributing.

“Concerned?”

“He… he hugged me.”

Reyna didn’t quite know what to say to that. Physical contact was extremely low on the list of things she was versed in, and from the time spent together as well as the look of shock on Nico’s face, she knew it was a trait they shared. Their eyes met, and it was as if they shared some silent conversation, because she somehow knew that Nico could read her thoughts. He nodded ever so slightly.

Reyna cleared her throat, “Did he say anything else?” 

To that, Nico shook his head, albeit with some hesitation, “No.” But the look she pinned him with made him add with a sigh of defeat and discomfort, “He heavily advised me not to touch the glass wall… and also said I should use any and all strength you’re willing to lend me.”

She felt the inner struggle with those words, but for the first time, she felt as though he might actually follow through with it. That he might actually put aside his fears for her wellbeing and do what needed to be done to ensure his own survival. And Reyna wasn’t sure why, but she lowered herself onto the sun-spotted grass against a wide trunked oak and looked down at her hands. She could feel Nico’s eyes on her, hear how his hands had stilled and he’d angled his head.

Chirping filled her ears, rustling leaves surrounded her, and if she was still enough, if she let her mind wander, she could make out the echoes from the depths of her earliest memories of Coquí frogs singing in the rainforest of her home.

Something deep within Reyna cracked as she parted her lips, as she spoke, as she let the history she’d kept locked away for so long flow from her as if Veritas, the Roman goddess of truth, were trapped within her as well.

Jason had been the only one to ever know her past, and even then she'd never revealed the whole truth. Because for a daughter of Bellona, trust itself was a battle to be waged, one none had ever won. At least… none until now. Because to Nico, she held nothing back; couldn't bring herself to, not after he'd let her literally walk into the darkest reaches of his own memories. He'd trusted her, and she realized with a start that she didn't tell him the unadulterated truth because she felt she owed him it, no. She did it because she knew she could trust him, knew with more certainty than anything in her entire life. 

As she spoke, Nico said nothing, revealing no emotion on his own face of blank marble. Not a single muscle in his entire body moved when she told of her family's legacy of military service nor the broken state it had left her father in; though his jaw feathered when she spoke of the neglect, the abuse, he said nothing as she bled truth. And when she finished, when her heart felt like the deer husk in the clearing and her breath felt wrong in her throat so dry from talking, Reyna sat in the silence beside him.

She waited for him to call her a fool, a coward or a murderer; waited for him to pin that feral glare on her and spit curses in that too calm way he did when truly angry; waited for him to walk away, to leave her here beside the bleeding animal corpse; waited for him to part the earth beneath her and send her to the realm of punishment she belonged; waited, waited, waited for the worst. 

When his lips finally parted, she could barely breathe past the echoed pounding in her chasm of her chest. 

"Reyna, look at me." She couldn't. She knew it made her weak but she just couldn't bear to have him look at her with the disgust or rage she deserved and she would rather die than see pity. "Reyna."

She shook her head like a damn child. The dark insignia inked on her arm felt like a mockery above those four sacred letters, the warrior braid across one shoulder a disgrace to all it represented. She was no Roman. The truth she'd kept locked inside, the truth she'd just split herself open, cleaved at her heart and mind to share. She wouldn’t let him see her vulnerability, couldn't let him see what it would do to her to see his reaction. Coward, coward, coward. She turned her head.

There was a muffled grunt of effort and then he was in front of her, kneeling and hunched over in the grass so she could not escape the glare she felt bore through her. With the last shred of the fearless, soulless warrior she'd made a life out of pretending to be, Reyna shot her head up to meet the son of Hades' wrath.

Wrath, pity, anger, disgust, every emotion she deserved, every ounce of hate she had earned—  there was none of it, not even a trace. Nico narrowed his eyes, the black orbs of suspended gold flickered, but not in rage. It was with understanding that he looked at her, through her, it was with experience with the darkest horrors imaginable that he now looked to her. 

Knowing there were no words to convince her that what she spoke of was in no way her fault— for he could see clearly that she'd already convinced herself of that— Nico's lips pressed into a thin line. He might not be versed in the ways of comforting a soul so lost and broken by the weight she'd put on herself, but there was one thing he did know. One comfort his powers did allow. His eyes never left hers as he said softly, "Do you trust me?"

Yes. Yes . She'd never let herself trust someone, the closest she'd ever come was to Jason. And it was new, so new it left her feeling raw, exposed. Incapable of words, she knew he could see it all etched in her face. He nodded. Then his eyes peeled away from her eyes and down instead to her hand. He'd noticed her glance at it as she'd spoken of her father's outbursts. And Nico, as versed in scars than shadows— not from ichor given abilities, but his own experiences— could tell the faint line running across the top of her hand from her wrist to the knuckle of her pointer finger was faded enough to match the time frame of the events she'd described. 

She said nothing as he placed his palm over the mark, his hands so mangled with lines of bone-white scar tissue were large enough to almost completely cover her own. Nico closed his eyes. She could not hear what he whispered, but the birds stopped chirping, and the trees stopped rustling in the breeze. Nico let out a breath and she saw it take form in the now frigid air. When he finally let go, the warmth and chirping and breeze and rustling of trees began anew in the symphony of the forest. But he was still.

"Do you want to know what happened to him?"

Yes. No. She didn't know. And again he was somehow able to understand what she truly desired despite being too afraid to voice it.

"Reyna, he's in the Fields of Asphodel.”

The fresh air caught in her throat. She waited to feel sadness, to feel pain or sorrow or grief. But she felt none of that. She felt nothing as she looked him in the eye and whispered with strangled breath, "Good."

And while she expected Nico to narrow his eyes, or chide her or question her morality as any of the Romans she knew would have, he simply nodded. "Good."

When she breathed, it was the first time in her entire life that she did so deeply, without the invisible weight on her chest, on her heart. Reyna was not ashamed for feeling no sorrow for what her father was enduring— that he would forever wander through the land of the dead, forgetting with every passing moment who he was, what he’d done. And Nico looked at her no differently for it. He did not call her a heartless monster or sneer or judge. 

"Thank you, Nico."

The demigod nodded and the slight smile on his face fell. His lips pressed into a tight line, brow furrowed for a moment before he said, “You know, for most of my life… I’ve been…,” he shook his head, “I’ve been resisting the urge to… to end it.” He forced himself to meet her gaze and hold it despite the shame that washed over him. “But I resisted, I survived not only Tartarus and everything else, but myself. I survived myself. And you can too, Reyna. And a future? Gods, Reyna you can have that too. You deserve it.”

“We both do,” Reyna said hoarsely once she could remember how to form words. Nico smiled then, not a wide beaming grin, but one that spoke of warmth deep and pure. 

“There’s something I want you to have.” Nothing could have prepared her for watching Nico pull the skull ring off his index finger and extended it to her. She stared at the silver— worn and tarnished from all it had endured— then back to Nico.

For perhaps the first time in her life as a trained Roman, the Praetor stuttered, “I- I can’t take this, Nico. It’s… I can’t.” But she didn’t pull away as he took her hand and slid the ring onto her thumb. The metal was so cold she bit back a gasp. Though it quickly warmed, the weight was strange and surprised her in the comfort it brought her. She looked down at it then back up to meet the gold in Nico’s eyes. “Why are you giving this to me?”   

“To remind you of this,” he gestured to the forest, not able to hide the wince of sharp pain as he did. “To remind you of me.”     

Something in his voice made her heart skip a beat. “Nico, this better not be a way of telling me you think you’re going to… that you’ll…” she couldn’t get it out, couldn’t say the word. She cursed her tear ducts as her vision began to blur. 

Nico’s voice was hoarse and he met her eyes. “I want to live, Reyna.” He shook his head with a soft smile, “I want to live.”

Reyna pushed aside every trained instinct, every learned ounce of discipline instilled in her by Lupa, by the Roman life, and reached out to take his palms into his own. The silver skull ring made a metallic sound as it brushed against the now lonely gold band around Nico’s pointer finger. She smiled at the noise, smiled wide and true. She rose, helping him to his feet before pivoting to where the Parthenos awaited.

“Two more jumps,” she said with a challenge in her voice, “think it’s possible?”

To her surprise, Nico matched her grin, flashing pearlescent teeth. But as he turned to face the direction of the statue, that stone chiseled jaw of his set in determination. “Together.”

Reyna looked down at their interlocked hands, the two rings gleaming in the morning light. He made no effort to separate them, so she lifted her chin, holding her head high and trained her gaze to the same spot. She nodded. “Together.”

Landing the Argo II had taken a matter of minutes, thanks to Festus and Leo. The son of Hephaestus was still aboard the ship and unloading necessary items with the help of his siblings whereas the Seven had headed straight for the Big House the moment they’d touched Camp soil.

Despite the barely discernible ‘offness’ radiating from the Seven, it was clear to all that their friends and fellow head counselors were more at ease than they’d been in weeks— calmed by Percy and Annabeth’s presence. Once more, the Greeks were a single unit.

Standing around the pool table, the head counselors and Chiron were already in their full armor as they’d been since dawn. The war room of the Big House fell into a tense silence as Clarisse’s report came to a close. Silence as the plans, and the backup plans, settled into the Seven’s memory. Annabeth voiced a few adaptations— small but capable of saving dozens of their friend’s lives— and Frank made a minor adjustment to the angle they’d march which would ensure Camp was fully at their backs and there was no way for any Roman forces to get past.

Percy had said nothing, finding it difficult to formulate words as the pressure in his core built, pushing against him from the inside— a sensation that was getting to be wildly uncomfortable. Now that the sedative had fully left his system, it wanted out. No. It needed out. Nico, he needed Nico. He didn’t know how he knew, but some instinct with the same voice as his cursed abilities whispered in his mindscape that Nico could calm the war raging inside him. But Nico wasn’t here. Percy clenched his fists so hard that his knuckles grew white as he clamped his eyes shut. And he pushed it down, down, down. Pushed back against it into the deepest chasms of his soul.

“Percy?”

The voice, he knew that voice. Annabeth. Percy’s eyelids flew open to find seventeen sets of eyes staring at him. With a shake of his head, he cleared his throat.

“We never got a response to Piper’s letter did we?” Connor and Travis Stoll shook their heads, that mischief in their eyes glinting. Miranda Gardner elaborated that they’d heard nothing of the Roman’s at all, the daughter of Demeter’s green irises were somber as she spoke. Percy nodded as he thought aloud, “Then Octavian must be treated as hostile. And from what I know about the Roman’s— Jason, Hazel, Frank, stop me if I’m wrong— there’s no hope for unification as long as Octavian is leading them.”

The Roman’s present voiced no opposition to the statement. 

Percy braced his arms on the pool table, pinning his gaze on the most impressive sketch; a large piece of paper held down by smooth stones that depicted both armies. Similar in size, but not quite. The two extra lines of soldiers on the Roman’s side would’ve seemed like nothing to a normal teenager. But to Percy, and every demigod in the room, those two lines might as well have been scrawled with the words ‘death sentence’. So he voiced what he knew they were all thinking. “We need him out of the picture. Need every advantage we can get.”

Clarisse crossed her arms, the leather of her armor groaning as it stretched over her muscled frame. “You want to kill him.”

Before he could nod, Jason said, “Percy, what you’re suggesting would be considered an act of war.”

Percy shrugged, “We’re already going to war, why not make it a double?” The Stoll brothers laughed at that, but the rest of the room stayed silent. Percy’s eyes slid across the paper from those two lines at the back all the way to the front of the Roman army. He wished he had Leo’s flames to burn a hole through that dot of graphite that represented the self-proclaimed Pontifex Maximus. He tilted his head up to glance at the Roman’s across the table. “I wasn’t there nearly as long as you all but even I could tell the unanimous dislike for Octavian and the collective respect towards Reyna. I’m not sure how deep that loyalty lies. But I do know honor and tradition is everything to Camp Jupiter.” He looked directly at Jason through the dark fringe of hair, those sea green eyes piercing. “If he’s left alive, will the legion disobey him? Will they break rank and join us?”

“Never.” Jason hated himself for it, but he shook his head, “They’d never go against his orders.”

“But if it’ll be taken as an act of war, they’ll fight us anyway.” Clarisse thought aloud. “Even with Octavian dead.”

Frank looked to Jason and Hazel then nodded to Clarisse, “They might, but it’ll be enough to rattle the legion. When Reyna and Nico arrive with the Parthenos, the Roman army will already be vulnerable.”

That cursed power bucked inside him at the mention of Nico, but Percy breathed roughly and  gripped the table’s edge until it subsided. “Then it’s settled.”

“Wait, he’ll be heavily guarded,” Clarisse pointed out. “Centuries stationed at every angle around him. We won’t be able to get close enough.”

Percy gave a smirk to that spot on the drawing that he knew didn’t meet his eyes, “Leave that to me.”

“Percy…” the warning in Annabeth’s tone told him she hadn’t forgotten the promise she’d made him. Good.

“Not that, don’t worry. I’ve got something else in mind.”

Percy hated it, hated that the gods had turned them into these warriors so used to battle and slaughter that they were all standing around a pool table discussing the murder of a teenager. And Percy hated the realization that he’d kill Octavian over and over if it meant keeping a single soldier in his blindly obedient legion from hurting any of Percy’s friends. Now wasn’t the time to be a hero. It was the time to do what needed to be done to ensure his family's survival. He pushed off the table. 

“Hazel, be ready to extract Nico and Reyna. Go straight to the infirmary. Will, be ready.” Both demigods nodded. Will’s jaw was set, his eyes blazing as he said everything was already prepared to receive them both. Percy turned to Clovis and raised his voice to wake the slumbering demigod. “Clovis, I need you to stay on the sidelines out of harm’s way.” He strode for Clovis, kneeling so he was eye level. Those chocolate brown eyes were wider than Percy had ever seen them. “This is very important. If necessary, Piper will come find you and you’ll both put me to sleep. Understood?”

Clovis nodded, mouth slightly agape. Percy rose back to his full height and turned to survey the others. The head counselors realized the other members of the Seven weren’t shocked by this strange exchange, prompting Clarisse to narrow her eyes.

“You got somethin’ you wanna share, Jackson? Or are we in the habit of keeping secrets and private schemes like a bunch’a mortals?”

Annabeth took a step forward to come to her boyfriend’s defense, but Percy stopped her. He took her balled up fists into his hands, rubbing the tension from them for a moment. Percy read the unease in her eyes but he said gently, “She’s right,” his eyes found Will’s who dipped his head in the slightest of nods. “They deserve to know.”

“Know what?” Clarisse demanded.  

Percy ignored the daughter of Ares and faced Annabeth, bringing those calloused palms to his lips. Palms that had held up the sky, had saved him countless times, had clung to him as they’d fallen into Tartarus, and pulled him from the River Styx. He planted a soft kiss on the scarred tissue, not breaking eye contact even as he let his voice fill the room.

“Jason, please fill them in. There’s something I gotta do.”

“More secrets Jackson?”

This time, Percy tore his gaze from Annabeth and turned to Clarisse with a wink. “You’re gonna love it, trust me.”

With Annabeth’s hand resting on the small of his back— where he’d once been tethered to life itself by— Percy took a breath and regarded the group of his friends. Of his family. Of his home.

“I’ll be on the front line ready to march when the time comes. But until then, please… keep your distance from me.”

“Why?” It was Lou Ellen’s voice who sliced through the confusion.

Percy only nodded to Jason who returned the gesture, said goodbye and turned to leave. As he strode for the door, he heard the screeching of a chair against the wooden floors and Jason’s voice that said, “I think you all should sit down for this.”

Percy passed under the threshold and after nodding to Jason herself, Annabeth slipped behind her boyfriend as he made to shut the door. She led him a ways down the hall— unbeknownst to him that it was to prevent him from hearing Jason reveal to the others not just what Percy knew and meant when asking Jason to fill them in… but, everything Reyna had told them as well. Information Percy still didn’t know about.

But Percy was blissfully unaware as he followed her, so caught up in how the blond ringlets framed her face so well. Those grey eyes darted to every inch of his face, stopping only when they reached those captivating irises. He knew what she was searching for even before she parted her lips.

“How bad is it?”

“Bad,” he admitted, “but I’ll manage.”

“Where are you going?”

“I just…,” a hand drifted to his core and Annabeth caught the wince he’d been holding back in front of the others. “I need to get away for a bit. Compose myself. Calm this thing down and refocus.”

She opened her arms and he hesitated a moment before stepping into her embrace. The arms wrapped around him were strong, comforting. They held him together, reminded him what was real. What he was fighting for. A future where survival wasn’t the only thing on their minds.

“I miss Nico,” he admitted for the first time aloud.

“I know, Percy. Gods, I know. He’ll be here soon, don’t worry.”

“Do you think we’ll be able to figure this all out?”

It physically hurt Annabeth to keep what she knew— what Reyna had revealed to them— a secret. Clarisse’s words pounded in her head. But she forced the corner of her lips to rise. “Together, the two of you can do anything.”

Percy was still beneath her touch as he memorized every inch of her face. And then he said, “See you out there?”

She nodded. With a kiss, deep and true, that promised so much more, the two parted and Percy gave her a smile that sent warmth through her entire body. She stood in the hallway, watching him go, then closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths. It was all the time she needed to bury that vulnerable love, bury any fear or moral standing that would leave her weak. When she turned on her heel and pushed back into the room where gaunt faces rose from Jason to her, it was the Daughter of Athena who stood in the threshold. Her very bones thrummed with the promise of war. Mind sharp, reflexes charged, she was prepared to make split second decisions that would cost or save lives. Born from Athena’s thoughts, honed in gore and death, she was war.

Annabeth Chase was ready for battle.

Reyna emerged from the jump moments before Nico and was able to recover from the song of shadows much quicker due to the fact that before they’d made the jump, Nico and she had decided it be best for him to not take a lot of her power since they needed her to stay strong enough to help all she could with the final jump. All that to say, after freeing herself from the harness, she was able to quickly move to Nico’s. 

His eyes were closed and the only movements to his body were that of shallow breaths as she tried to lower him to the ground gently. But when the last leather strap was set loose, the unconscious weight of Nico’s body sunk into her unsuspecting arms more like a rock. Reyna let out a curse at the sound that echoed through the forest.

He regained some semblance of consciousness during the short fall and let out a sharp hiss as their stone muscles collided with each other. Reyna’s breathing grew slightly labored as she supported his full weight and got him to the dusk lit earth.

“No, don’t try to get up.” Despite her words, he strained against her firm hands and tried to push himself up. Pressing down slightly harder, her voice softened despite the urgency lacing it, “easy Nico. You went down pretty hard.”

Nico stopped fighting against her, too weak to do much else but stay awake. Looking up to the dying light of a sunset sky that illuminated his pale complexion, he struggled to speak as air caught in his dry throat. 

“What happened?”

“That last jump took a lot out of you. You weren’t conscious when we landed and just as I’d undone the last strap of your harness, you passed out completely. I tried to catch you, but...,” her voice faded out as she looked down at her hands. The hands that hadn’t been strong enough, fast enough to prevent the fall or the sickening crack that still rung in her head even now. 

“...you hit your head on the base of the Parthenos. Even stopped breathing for a heartbeat or two, I think.”

It was more than unsettling to see Nico so still, so lifeless as he lay atop the grass, staring up at the dying light of day. His chapped lips parted and he apologized for scaring her. Had it been anyone other than Nico, the Roman would’ve verbally beat them senseless for suggesting she was so weak that she’d been scared. But as it were, she only nodded in acceptance with a worried smile. 

He lay there as if waiting for something to appear in the sky as Reyna stood from where she’d been hovering over him on her knees. After setting up their usual campsite and unzipping Nico’s sleeping bag, she suggested he get some rest.

It took far less convincing than she’d come to expect, and she stood there in shock for a moment after helping him to the nightsack and zipping him up tightly. Because the moment Nico’s head hit the pillow, he was out cold.

After forcing a few bites of food down to replenish her energy, Reyna grabbed her sleeping bag and placed it before the Parthenos. Sitting in the fabric, leaning against the statue’s base, Reyna watched the forest as it descended into night and listened to the sound of Nico’s shallow, yet steady breathing.

The stars had just begun to twinkle when a rustling commotion made Reyna’s attention dart to where Nico lay. Only he wasn’t out cold anymore. Not even close. The peaceful night serenade of the birds she’d been listening to were silenced as Nico began to thrash in his sleeping bag.

“I can’t… no no I… can’t do t-this anym- agh!” Nico’s breathless desperation was interrupted by a guttural cry that escaped his cracked lips. Reyna crawled from her sleeping bag and made her way by the bright moonlight over to Nico.

“Stop n-no… no please no ple— stop stop… hurts,” he moaned deliriously, hissing through bared teeth, “… can’t I can’t please make it— just m-make it stop….i-it hurts it hurts… ”

I know it does, gods above Nico I know , she wanted to say despite not having any clue what he was seeing as he thrashed violently, breaths hitched between sobs that shook his entire body. Reyna’s eyes darted over her shoulder to where the bag lay; and inside it, the unused syringes of sedative.

“No, no I can’t it hurts ple-ase… I-,” he rasped, curling in on himself abruptly, clutching the invisible wounds on his chest with an agonized scream, torn from his lungs before breaking into gasping sobs from the phantom pain. 

There were claws on him. Claws tearing through his chest, shredding tissue and muscle, slashing bone as if he were nothing but a shadow. He lost any capability of speech, words had no meaning, only the indescribable blinding pain that was by far the worst thing he’d ever experienced. 

Reyna held herself back with every ounce of power she had, Will’s warning from before they’d left— gods that felt like years ago— blaring through her mind. When he’d told her never to touch Nico during a night terror, only if she absolutely had to in order to sedate him. But she could tell that this was different, he was trapped in his night terror as he’d been a few days ago. If she sedated him now, she’d be trapping him even further; he’d have no way of escape. And so Reyna let out a curse before grabbing for him, pulling his crumpled form into hers. He writhed against her hold— his strength threatening to overpower her own— and the raised scarring that coated his exposed skin scratched uncomfortably against her arms, but she didn’t let go. She’d never let go.

“Shhh, I’m here,” she whispered. And although she knew he couldn’t hear her past his own screams and groans of agony nor whatever fresh terror he was trapped in, Reyna still spoke to him. “You’re alright. Breathe, Nico. Just breathe.”

When he didn’t still and her arm became slick with blood seeping through his ripped stitches, when his breaths turned ragged and worryingly rapid as if on the brink of hyperventilation, Reyna held him in an iron grip, willing those scarred, corded muscles to stop seizing. And Reyna Avila Ramirez-Arellano— Praetor of the Twelfth Legion of the Roman Armada, former leader of New Rome and Camp Jupiter, daughter of the goddess of war, destruction and devastation— parted her lips. 

She cradled his upper half as she sang, the lyrics pulling her heart in a way words never could. Never in her life could she have imagined how strong her feelings could have grown for the son of Hades; never could have predicted that she’d ever have him in her arms when she’d never held anyone like this. But as she sang the song of her true home, the only memory of her mother, Reyna realized that she would do anything for this soul in her arms. She would die for him. And she made a pact with herself, swearing it to the stars above her as she sang, that if it came to that— him or her— she would do everything she could to ensure he got the chance to have the future he deserved. The cottage, the white picket fence, and Will beside him. That is what she would fight for, that is what her purpose was. And she tilted her face to the night sky, swearing an oath to the moonlit forest that if Nico were hurt, no force in the world would keep her from slaughtering everyone responsible. And she poured every emotion she’d ever suppressed for the sake of stoicism into her voice as she sang. Love and loss. Fear and anguish. Promises of blood and pain and sacrifice.

Line by line, Nico’s sobs lessened, breathes evened out, white knuckled grip softened. He looked up, sweat gleaming on his furrowed brow like a halo beneath his tousled raven locks. His brows stitched together in confusion at the strange words in a language he didn’t know. She saw him become somewhat aware that the Roman Praetor was rocking him in her lap, but he didn’t blush, didn’t pull away. His lids began to droop and he leaned back against her, melting completely to the sound of her heartbeat in his ear.

Her song ended, and she stroked his glistening hair away from his burning forehead, sliding the silver skull ring across it to cool him down. And then she whispered into the night air, “Sleep.”

And he did; like the dead. So much so that when they awoke the next morning, disheveled and laying completely on top of one another, he didn’t so much as flinch. They ate breakfast and packed together in peaceful, serene silence. She didn’t want the moment to end, didn’t want to face the reality they now faced. It was morning. It was time to make the final jump.

The peace remained, though the serenity had diluted as they got to their positions— leather straps in hand. In silence, as one, they put their harnesses on, secured every buckle, tied every knot. Reyna couldn’t help but feel a nagging sensation in the back of her mind, it unsettled her to the very core enough so that she turned to him, holding out a hand to stop him from closing his eyes to prepare for the jump.

“Wait.” It was love, that’s what made her do it— it’s just that she was so new to the concept that it seemed more like a foreign invader in her mind. It was love that struck fear through her at the idea that maybe Nico would redact the promise he’d made his father, the promise he’d made her. That maybe, just maybe, Nico wouldn’t take her power at all. She knew it was a ridiculous thought, especially after he’d told her with such solidity she’d felt it in her bones that he wanted to live… and yet— 

“Reyna?” Nico’s brows were furrowed, and though her mind was racing with this new emotion she’d set free for the first time in her life, Reyna steadied herself by locking in on the gold flecks of his onyx eyes.

Reyna took a deep breath and without realizing it, began to twist the silver ring on her finger. “I agreed to join you on this mission because I’ve got nothing to lose. You have a soul mate and a future waiting for you at Camp Half-Blood.” She let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. And those irises, those galaxies of torture and hope, kept her grounded. “No more guards, no more keeping me at bay. Take everything you need and then some. We’ve made it this far, don’t throw all that away now. So please, please let me help get you back in one piece so you can experience the life you deserve to have. The happiness you deserve to feel.”

Nico just stared at her. Stared as tears began to fall from his eyes like pearls on marble. He nodded, determination setting his jaw. And she could feel him finally winning the battle that had been waged in his mind since their very first jump. Finally defeating that voice in his head. He reached to take her hand but paused. It hovered so close to hers she could feel the cold radiating from the palm against the back of her hand. The ring on her finger chilled.

“You can have that too, Reyna. Happiness. A future. Stop denying yourself that. You could stay at Camp Half-Blood with me and the others.” He stumbled over his words and Reyna felt the corner of her lip twitch at the flush of color on Nico’s cheeks. “I’ve never had a best friend before. But if you want, I was thinking…”

Reyna let out a chime of laughter, freeing him from the potent embarrassment. “I would like that very much.” She bobbed her outstretched hand pointedly and this time, he took it. “Migliore amico.”

“Mejor amigo,” he answered with a smile warmer than any hearth or flame.

The two demigods born on opposing sides of an archaic feud set in blood centuries before their births— two warriors destined to hate and kill one another, a Roman Praetor and the Greek Prince of the Underworld— they tightened their grip, forming a Gordian knot of their own creation. 

And together, they plunged into the shadows.

Silent as death, the Greeks marched behind him. Annabeth and Jason flanking his sides, the rows of demigods clad in reinforced leather armor and wielding various weapons, Percy’s blood sang. He was glad he’d asked Annabeth and Jason to stay a few paces farther away than usual. It would take all his concentration, all his willpower to restrain himself. He wished he could feel the lake, but the Roman’s had selected this particular piece of land due to its distance from the large basin of water. It was an effort not to smile at their stupidity.

“Did you get our letter?” Percy yelled out as they neared the Roman’s. His voice was jovial, playful and dripping with childish amusement. Only the friends and family behind him knew of its fakeness, only they knew the intelligence sharper than his own blade that hid behind his eyes ready to strike. “Ya know we really could’a solved this over like an iris message or somethin’. You’re kinda wastin’ everyone’s time, ‘cause the Parthenos is gonna make us all buds. But since you’re here already, what do ‘ya say we all unite and defeat Echidna together?” 

Closer, just a little closer.

Octavian was indeed hidden inside a ring of soldiers, though he grinned like a madman. Percy couldn’t help himself as he added, “I mean that was all in the letter we sent. Unless, oh! I never thought to consider that maybe you can’t read.”

That did the trick, wiping the smile off the Roman’s face as his features scrunched into a scowl of immense hatred that was pretty impressive for such a small demigod. 

“Funny, I don’t see a statue,” he seethed as he made a show of peering over his guard’s shoulders and into the Greek ranks, “Nor the murderer and traitor you call Nico and Reyna.”

Then the Pontifex Maximus looked Percy up and down. He was dripping wet from his dive in the lake. It had been a vain attempt to calm the raging powers inside him but hadn’t done much to satiate them. He’d gotten confused glances from his friends when he’d emerged and didn’t bother to dry himself, even as the leather armor grew heavy. But none questioned it aloud, not at the darkness that had settled in those sea green eyes.

Unaware of the danger he was in, Octavian gestured to the son of Poseidon with a pitiful dagger— no more than a toothpick compared to Riptide, who Percy didn’t even bother drawing— and laughed. “This is the leader of the Greeks? The Hero of Olympus? Please,” the Roman spit on the ground and met Percy’s death filled eyes with a sneer, raising his voice so that both armies could hear, “you’re no more than a wet dog who needs to be put dow—”

Octavian’s seething words and beating heart went silent. As Clarisse had pointed out that morning, Percy had known the slimy worm of a Roman would be well guarded. Known he’d have to waste energy on taking out the well trained soldiers. Energy that needed to be spent on keeping a firm grasp on his powers. But no one, not even the warriors honed by Lupa, were fast enough to stop the water Percy pulled from his own dripping body that he willed into an arrowhead. No one had been fast enough to halt the shard of water as it speared past the guards and embedded itself deep within Octavian’s heart.

Silence befell the Roman army.

Percy held his arm high into the air for all to see the markings there— the dark ink that would forever brand him— raising his voice as he did. “I was one of you! I know your honor, your code is your life. But fight as allies, not enemies and together we will live to see another day.” Percy gestured to the fallen body of Octavian and repeated, “I was one of you. I know how you all felt about Octavian. And I know the pride you felt while serving Reyna. She is on her way. She did what none of you were brave enough to do— set aside her differences to do what was best for the good of New Rome. Can you say the same? You’ve let pride cloud your vision for too long. Will you remain blindly obedient, serving the memory of a poor excuse of a demigod who proclaimed himself Pontifex Maximus?”

There was hesitation, a wave of uncertainty that he felt in the air as soldiers shifted, breaking those perfectly aligned ranks. But then a Roman Percy recognized as Larry of the Second Cohort stepped forward. Imperial gold glinted in the brazen light of dawn as he raised his sword, aiming it at Percy’s heart.

“You are correct, Jackson. The code is everything to us,” his eyes were filled with hatred and something like betrayal as they flicked to Jason. “And killing Octavian is an act of war.”

And just like that, the lines reorganized and as one, a collective sigh of blades unsheathing drifted from the army behind Larry. 

Despite himself, Percy couldn’t keep the smile from creeping onto his face. Battle had always been his sanctum. The slumbering power within him opened an eye, but he gritted his teeth and forced it back down before opening Riptide. Pulling more water from himself to form a shield, he lowered his stance into a ready position. Behind him, he heard the Greeks do the same.

Larry opened his mouth to spout some ridiculously formal command to the legion behind him, but Percy was already charging, the army behind him surging forward as one.

And when the first blade clashed against Riptide, Percy was home.

Jason hovered high above it all, having been commanded by Percy to get up there and inform the Greek ranks of any adjustments that should be made to their strategy. The shouted words had barely left Percy’s gritted teeth before Jason was in the air to carry out the task and get back to the son of Poseidon's side. 

But despite everything, Jason lingered in the sky, completely frozen by what he saw. The armies were both vast, both holding their own, both losing their own. The choir of blades and metal and armor reached him even at this height along with sounds of various abilities— bursts of flame, shouting laced with charmspeak, a myriad of animals war cries, snapping of vines… It was chaos, complete and utter chaos. And yet, there was Percy and Annabeth side by side, holding the front line, leading the charge. Jason had seen them fight together, but never had he witnessed them at war together. It was incredible— how they seemed to dance as one, how they were able to communicate without so much as speaking. And no matter how much mud and crimson that splashed and covered Percy, Jason didn’t see him reach for that unholy power once.

He needed to get back, needed to go back to fighting and killing his old home, his old friends to protect and defend his new. Jason cracked his neck and took a deep breath as he organized the reports he’d fly down and deliver to each head counselor, but as he made to bend the air to his will… Jason froze. Every thought, every plan died in his mind. 

It was all he could do to scream out at the top of his lungs, using the air as a channel to amplify his voice. It was all he could do.

*****************

Jason’s yell echoed across the battlefield, drowning out the chaos. The fighting ceased as both armies turned. 

All around him, Percy could hear his family whispering prayers to gods who would not listen. And as Percy looked out to what must have been thousands of monsters as they crested the hill, Echidna in all her glory marching at the front line, he tightened the noose around his powers and sent up a prayer of his own. Not to his father, not to the gods. But to Nico.

Where are you, brother

Chapter Text

She took her time, savoring every moment it took to descend the hill. The earth was warm and trembling beneath her, the cries of strife and death like music to her pointed ears. Almost as magnificent as the sound of the bone drums behind her, almost as serene as having her children behind her. Having them there to witness a mother's wrath. Having them there to get their first real taste of the delicacy that was revenge. Having them there to fill each and every one of them with hope and pride in knowing they will have aided in changing their lives forever.

Pride filled her own chest at knowing that soon, so very soon, her children would have the futures they deserved. Could exist in a world without fear for their lives, without pain in their ichor drenched hearts. That even though their father, her husband Typhoon, had been taken from them— by these savages fighting amongst themselves like wild animals— they were still worthy of life, still loved by the true, rightful ruler of the earth. 

It had taken little to convince her to join the cause; and with Gaea’s promise for a bright future for her children, she had gathered her most beautiful, her most lethal, and made her way here— to this unholy land. To this Camp and its inhabitants who had taken everything from her. Everything but her children. No matter how many of them those Greeks murdered, slaughtered, she still made more— with tears in her eyes and blood of the fallen coating her clawed hands.

So she made her way down the rolling hill, power thrumming in her immortal veins, and smiled. It was a surprise of course to see the Roman’s there, but it did not matter. Not when she outnumbered them with the thousands of her most beautiful children.

A demigod in the sky shouted down to the army below, and even from this distance where even she could barely make out the speck in the sky, she relished in the sound of desperation. 

Her smile only grew.

Demigod blood was all Gaea required. And for her children, for her husband, for herself… Echidna would not fail.

Percy sunk Riptide into the small chink in a legionaries armor, removing it so quickly to parry another’s strike that an arc of red splattered through the air from his blades edge. Celestial bronze and imperial gold collided with such force that the sound echoed through his bones, revibrating to his very core. The power inside seemed to open an eye at the sensation. Percy bared his teeth, pushing the enemy blade and his inner power down. 

The reserve water in his armor was long since depleted, the battered leather now lighter and there was a nasty gash that ran mid-thigh all the way down to his shin from when a Roman he’d felled had drug the point of her gladius down as she’d fallen. But he did not waver. He did not limp. He was deaf to pain, deaf to everything but the steady presence of Annabeth and Jason beside him— the daughter of Athena alight with purpose and strength. Whenever the power bucked inside of him, like when he’d earned the laceration that was still seeping red, he would find Annabeth’s eyes and no matter how many soldiers she was battling, no matter how focused she was on delivering new strategies to the other head counselors, she would meet his desperate eyes and nod with a comforting smile. She was there, she was fighting. He reined his power.

Despite the cry of protest from his wounded leg, Percy readied his knees to feign right and lacerate the unguarded inner thighs of the Roman before him. Before he could initiate the sequence, Percy— for the first time since stepping into the battlefield— faltered. 

Faltered and stilled, nearly dropping his sword because a burst of something cascaded over the land like a glittering wave of embers. Gasps all around him from both armies, lowering of weapons, removing of helmets, furrowing of brows, faces of every color and shape contorted in confusion. Eyes wide, he looks around and sees every demigod on both sides pausing, weapons limp in their hands as something deep inside him— a crack that had been there the day he was born— fused together. 

But then it hit him— a different sensation— so hard that Percy nearly lost hold of his powers as they bucked against his core. He let out a muffled cry and strained to grab hold but it suddenly went quiet, no longer thrashing wildly. For the first time since he’d discover it, the writhing thing inside him was calm. So calm that despite panting from exertion and the pile of bodies strewn at his feet, Percy could finally breathe. 

He looked around, eyes wild and frantic, nearly falling over his own feet as he staggered to find— 

There.

Their eyes locked and this time Annabeth— who he’d forgotten was beside him— had to grab his red stained leather armor to keep him standing. Parthenos behind him, Praetor beside him, the Prince of the Underworld had done it. 

Nico was home. 

Percy didn’t care who heard as he let out a strangled cry. The son of Hades, looking half to death with exhaustion, couldn’t hold back the smile as he spotted his brother. And though an entire battlefield spanned between them, Percy somehow knew those gold flecked onyx eyes were filled with tears as were his own. 

Nico was home.

His brother was alive.

The moment felt like a lifetime but it had merely been seconds and too soon did Jason take to the sky and let out another bellow to the now unified army from high above before landing back beside Percy. Echidna was gaining. Without the archaic feud clouding them, both armies turned as one to face the true threat. 

Percy went completely still, Riptide half raised, as that killing calm settled over him once more and filtered information to him as he scanned his surroundings before meeting Annabeth’s eyes that were just as wide. The daughter of Athena had a harsh line etched across her jaw, sweat and grime at her brow like a halo. Those grey eyes flashed as her mind took in every detail. Because Nico and Reyna had landed the furthest from the invisible barrier of Camp, and the closest to the marching Goddess of Monsters with her endless ranks of beasts. Jason, Annabeth, and Percy were midway on the field, Piper a ways to the right and Leo to the left, but Hazel and Frank were even farther behind. Before the fighting had paused, Percy had caught flashes of Frank— a fury of fur and fangs, feathers and talons around Hazel, doing whatever he could to limit her exertion so she’d be ready to transport Nico and Reyna. 

But the son of Mars had nothing on Percy as the Greek whipped his head to Jason, a feral intensity in his desperate sea green eyes as he practically snarled, "Can you get to them?"

It took Jason a moment to find words. From the moment Octavian’s body hit the grass, becoming the first blood, the first casualty of battle, the son of Poseidon had become one with his truest self and Annabeth beside him. Even as Jason had been lost in the guilt and shame of killing his own, he hadn’t been able to shake the image of Percy’s face when Larry, the newly proclaimed leader of the Roman legion, had disregarded any notion of unity. Couldn’t shake the image of the grin, the wild untamable smile on Percy’s lips that hadn’t left until moments ago.

And when Echidna had first crested the hill, the fighting had stopped but only for a heartbeat, then it had gone straight back to the feud that predated them all despite the ever encroaching goddess of monsters. With every scream and last breath from the Greek ranks, Jason had noticed the smile on Percy’s face slip more and more into a clenched jaw and that killing calm. Ferocity burned brightly in those eyes like poison and from what Jason had been able to glimpse while fighting his own opponents, Percy’s movements had only grown more precise, more accurate. Not even the bleeding gash on his left leg had slowed him. Nothing had made the son of Poseidon stop, no Roman, no weapon, no god given ability, until the Parthenos arrived. Until Nico arrived. It was the only reason Jason was able to meet Percy’s striking gaze, unsettling and more charged than a bolt of lighting. Breathing heavily, sword arm beginning to ache with the beginnings of exhaustion, Jason shook his head. "Even if I could, there's no way for me to transport them both."

Together, the three turned to Hazel. She was nearly at the border of Camp, the complete opposite end of the field from the Parthenos. And they were in the middle. Percy bit out a curse, “Do it."

Jason nodded with determination unlike he'd ever had before and launched into the sky. And Percy put aside his differences and prayed to every god in the sky that Jason was fast enough. Fast enough to get Hazel to them before Echidna reached the travel weary pair who even from the distance Percy could see were swaying on their feet.

Annabeth watched Jason take to the sky before flicking her gaze to the ever encroaching beasts. An endless sea of teeth and fangs and claws and growls still marching to the beat of the bone drums. If they chose to charge now, there would be no hope. The demigods would be overwhelmed in seconds. She bit her lip, tasting metallic power and salty sweat.

"He's not gonna make it," she breathed, glancing to the sky, to Hazel, to the Parthenos, to Echidna. "It's too far."

And at the hopelessness in her voice, the fear and agony in each word, Percy’s heart skipped a beat. And then another. And then he was running. Running towards the far reaches of the field— pushing armored demigods out of the way. Running towards thousands of beasts— feet sinking in the mud. Running towards a goddess even the gods themselves feared— chest heaving with shattered breaths, wounded leg shrieking with lashes of agony. 

Running towards his brother. 

As Reyna emerged from the folds of space, the song of shadows was drowned out by the symphony of war. Clashing of Celestial Bronze and Imperial Gold, shouted commands, screams of pain, last breaths— so many sounds, so much pain exploded around Reyna that the Praetor winced. But then she quickly turned to Nico and her heart nearly burst with relief. He was breathing, he was alive. The hollowness of her core told Reyna she was utterly spent, nearly every drop of her strength sapped. Dangerous, it was a dangerous edge she teetered on; burnout would ravage her if she completely drained herself. It had taken more than either of them had anticipated to make the final jump. But it was worth it. They’d made it.

She sent a prayer of thanks to her mother and another to Hades himself and then they were scrambling, getting free from their harnesses and drawing their blades as they took in everything around them. The Greeks and Romans were fighting, but that wasn’t what stopped her breath. 

No, it was the sight of Echidna, goddess and mother of all monsters, descending the hill that stole the air from her lungs. The beat of a thousand bone drums deafened her. The true enemy was advancing, and yet the hundreds of demigods were still warring amongst themselves.

Before Reyna could even look for the Seven in the chaotic fray of bodies and metal weaponry, the Parthenos at her back let out a burst of shimmering light like embers of a wildfire. The shock wave struck each Roman and Greek as that ancient rift healed within their spirits. Reyna gasped at the sensation and around her, despite the sounds of battle, could hear others do the same as. The fighting ceased, and in the strange calm— like a collective sigh of relief— that overtook the land, Reyna saw the Seven across the field.

She could just barely make them out, but it was them— bloodied, sweating, chests heaving, but alive. They were alive. Reyna could barely make out Jason, Percy, and Annabeth's forms as they huddled close in conversation, not a moment later did Jason take to the sky, launching himself through the air to the other end of the massive field. And with her mind still hazy from shadow travel, it wasn't until Percy began racing for them with what looked to be a very crimson coated leg, that everything became clear to her. Nico realized it too. Hazel must be at the other end, must have gotten separated from the others. 

Reyna turned her back to the demigods and took in Echidna's army. And when she turned back once more, taking Nico’s hand in her own, it was Latin that burst from deep inside her, followed by Nico who repeated her words in Ancient Greek. And for the first time in millennia, the two armies turned as one, lowering their weapons from their fellow demigods and towards the seemingly endless ranks of monsters.

Echidna charged, and like a wave of glittering death in the morning light, the sea of beasts with her.

All they had wanted was to save their two worlds, but around them, everything was falling apart.

Too many, there were just too many. And Reyna was tired, so tired she could barely think past the fog in her mind and the ache in every fiber of her body. There were hundreds of demigods, but thousands surged behind Echidna, the first of them finally reaching the demigod ranks.

Nico was barely standing, back facing her— shirt tattered revealing bruises that were now darker than the blade he raise in a scarred hand. He was exhausted, so gods damned exhausted that he could barely stand on weak legs, barely quell the shaking of the sword in his trembling hands, the Stygian an impossible weight. 

He risked a glance behind him to see Jason had barely made it to Hazel, hadn't yet begun the long flight to he and Reyna. In the air, from this distance, Jason was no more than a speck, Hazel the same. Percy was running for them, Annabeth close behind, but when they got there, what would they do? 

Nico was completely and utterly spent, every second shadow traveling weighing him down, every hour of sleep deprivation clinging to him and he knew Reyna was just as tired— it was a feat that she was even standing after all she'd seen. The song of shadows hadn't been kind to them. But the monsters paid no mercy as they surrounded he and Reyna. If they lunged now, all they’d done, all they’d sacrificed to get here would be for nothing. But the creatures, snarling and drooling with the promises of blood waited. Waited and parted a path for their mother who took her time slithering towards the Parthenos, towards Nico and Reyna, towards the demigod army.

They were trapped. There was nothing left to do, nowhere else to go. No gods were coming to save them. 

Nico looked out at the unified army of demigods, looked further to the rippling barrier and Camp Half-Blood beyond. The demigods were not only outnumbered, but exhausted from the battle they’d waged against each other. And when he turned back to what lay ahead, a feral instinct coated his veins— Nico wasn’t going to let a single one of them be hurt by Echidna or her creatures. This was his family he stood before. And if there was anything Nico had learned in his life it was that there was always more he could give. And that there were no lengths he wouldn’t go to for the sake of those he loved. 

Echidna was so close now, prowling through the ranks that surrounded them that he could see the points of her teeth as the goddess smiled. 

Every muscle in Reyna’s body tensed, already planning out what would be a futile last stand against the goddess who neared with each passing heartbeat— acceptance settled in her core; today was as good as any to die. She looked beside her at Nico, parting her lips to give one last command for him to get behind her and run, but the words perished on her tongue.

Because he was already looking at her, and his scarred features begged for forgiveness. And Reyna could barely breathe as she saw pain and regret in his eyes— pain not from his wounds or exhaustion. The silence radiating from him was all she needed to hear…. Reyna knew without words what he was going to do.

Her throat, still echoes of blood coating it, would not cooperate and it was all she could do to mouth out a single word, a shaking arm reaching for him. The silver skull ring on her finger glinted in the sun.

No

NO

But he smiled at her— soft, strained, pleading— a smile of desperation. 

Don’t worry. Everything will be alright. I could never hurt you.

Reyna shook her head, her braid flailing as wild as her wide eyes. Yet still Echidna stalked towards them, the trunks of her snake limbs scraping against the grass as the circle of monsters around them tightened in anticipation. 

Nico di Angelo was no one’s prey.

Nico closed his eyes on it all— on the snarling beasts trapping their weary bodies, on the statue behind him, and the best friend he never thought he’d have beside him. Nico closed his eyes and walked slowly— for time moved strangely here— through the chasm of his mind. Eyes closed, he raised an arm, movements slow as he felt, reaching out, through his mindscape for that forbidden wall.

He could hear screams, desperate and pleading though muffled as if he were underwater. The pleas were Reyna's— he’d know that voice even if he were deaf— but he didn’t listen, not when they’d turn to dying rasps if he didn’t do this.

There.

His palm spread against the surface that violated his skin on contact with something like frostbite. He shuddered, pulling the hand back that burned with otherworldly cold.

Distantly, he felt a pressure in his chest give way— the thin barrier of shadows he’d set up around them failing as he felt the immortal claws of Echidna rake through them. Exhaustion finally giving way to the touch, Nico heard the metallic grinding of Reyna unsheathing her weapon.

Eyes still closed as he braced himself for what he needed to do, Nico hesitated at the sensation of something sharp against his throat. But it wasn’t talons, it wasn’t teeth, it wasn’t monsters or Echidna. Distantly, his wounded arm stung in remembrance as he recognized the metal pressed against his jugular. Imperial Gold.

“Stop… don’t do it, Nico… you… you promised.”

There was desperation in those ragged words, louder than the growling around him. The blade was cold as it pulsated in tandem with his jugular, but it was nothing compared to the sub zero surface that he’d splayed both palms on. It was invasive, painful in a way he could never explain. The cold stripped him of everything he knew, everything he was.

Echidna must have hesitated, confused as to why a legionnaire had her weapon to the demigod’s throat. Or maybe because she sensed what Nico was doing. What he sought to unleash. Or maybe time had stilled, maybe all the universe had paused to witness what came next.

Nico forced his eyes open, not to the battlefield, but to his mind.

With nothing but grey surrounding him and a mirror-like polished floor of onyx beneath him, the wall spanned as far as he could see. It’s surface was transparent enough for him to see the darkness held within. Trapped, just like he was. Tendrils of fog, blacker than the darkness between stars, crashed against the other side and he could feel the pounding of it from beneath the dying flesh of his hands. 

The glass seemed impenetrable, and it would have been if not for the words of Ancient Greek that flowed from his lips. 

Eímai étoimos na se polemíso                           I am done fighting you

Írtha na diekdikíso to genéthlió mou                  I’ve come to claim my birthright 

For a moment, nothing happened. The black fog froze, every tendril suspended mid-air. Nico fell to his knees as exhaustion stuck his soul, but his palms remained on the wall, afraid if he let go all would be lost.

The chattering of monsters ceased, Reyna’s pleas died in her throat, Nico could hear nothing but the glass as it shattered.

Shadows speared for Nico in a torrent of darkness and when it collided with his body, embracing him as it was absorbed, Nico felt nothing.

No exhaustion, no burning, no fear.

And when the screams began anew, they were not from Reyna.

Agony ravaged through him with an intensity that threatened to blind him as it seared his nervous system and boiled the crimson of his blood as golden ichor rushed to consume it. Nico welcomed the blinding pain, willing it to build despite the screams that tore from his throat to the point he could taste that crimson liquid power. There were other screams too, other pleas and two hands around him. They begged to him, to the gods that wouldn’t listen, to the earth itself. But he didn’t stop. He could do this. Pain was his oldest friend, agony his lifeblood, screams his native language. 

The darkness built within him and he could no longer feel the hands on him as they jolted from his sub zero skin. And without their warmth, he lost himself to the torture. He could see nothing, couldn’t hear his own roars, couldn’t remember what it was like to be anything but this. He couldn’t hold on any longer, hadn’t the strength to control such raw power.

Mistake

This had been a mistake

But it was too late. 

Glass wall shattered, volatile power coursing through his soul, Nico threw his head to the sky, mouth open, teeth bared as he roared. With one final scream to rattle the sky, he let go; let go of all he had, all he was. And as shadows exploded from his body, Nico became one with the fractured darkness.

Every muscle in Nico's body tensed to the point of strain, Reyna watched as his entire body seemed to sigh with relief as it calmed and even the stress lines in his face disappeared. And it was all she could do to watch in horror as Nico's eyes flew open— eyes that of obsidian orbs, blacker than the night as shadows choked and overtook the whites of his eyes.

Nothing mattered, nothing existed— not even Echidna who’d swiped through his barrier of shadows and was now staring down at Nico with hunger and confusion in those red eyes— as Reyna reached out for him. His skin was so pale it was almost glowing, and those eyes were so black they seemed miniature voids. The gold flecks she’d come to find such comfort in were nowhere to be found. But he didn't look at her, he didn't look at anything. And when she parted her lips, palm almost against his, the space in front of her exploded.

Fog and darkness erupted before her, sending her flying. 

Reyna staggered, struggling to rise as the unnatural silence berated her ears. She could hear her heart beating, hear each and every breath, hear the blood rushing through her veins. Too quiet, it was too quiet. She blinked into the fog but it did no good, the darkness was so all consuming it was as if her eyes were closed. Blindly, she reached out and took a few steps into the shadow choked air. She let out a cry that deafened her upon tripping over a corpse, a Roman she'd taught in one of her combat lessons just last year. Reyna jolted at the gash at demigod's head— reminding her of the wounds Maria di Angelo was killed by. A strangled sound escaped her own lips as the daughter of Bellona looked back up and the now pitch black darkness had taken form. 

The song of shadows. 

Nico had brought it to the battlefield, he had wielded it. But it wasn't a scene from his own memories as when she lent him her strength during jumps, no. She was sitting on the floor, her sister holding her tightly. But it was her father, her father yelling and screaming while waiving a loaded gun in their direction, that had elicited the yelp of fear. The image flickered, as if Nico were having trouble containing the effects, as if he were trying to shield her from it. And when the image left, the sound of gunfire still rang in her ear, revibrating against the returned silence of darkness. On trembling legs, she rose and stumbled in a direction she thought was where Nico had been. Her dry throat was raw as she called out to him.

“NICO? NICO?!”

She began to run, falling over the uneven ground, colliding with demigods that she could not see through the blackness. But she did not stop running, didn't stop picking herself up from the ground as she continued to fall, didn't stop to worry about the mud and gore coating her limbs and palms. Didn't stop, didn't stop, didn't st— 

"Reyna!"

It wasn't Nico who she collided with, but Hazel and Jason. The potent darkness cleared ever so slightly, becoming that of dark grey fog, enough for her to make out the two demigods’ features.

"We have to find him," Reyna whispered through haggard breaths as she swayed on her feet. Jason reached out to steady her but she flinched at the touch. She felt raw, she felt hollow; fear seized her heart and the silver skull ring on her finger that Hazel and Jason’s eyes flicked to with raised brows was bitingly cold on her finger. She had to find Nico, had to find him, had to— it suffocated her, the fear that washed over her in unrelenting waves.

“What about Echidna?” Jason asked warily, “Her army?”

Hazel gave them both a grim look that told them all they needed to know. Instead of answering, she jerked her chin sharply left and said, "He's that way."

They took a moment, no more than a heartbeat, to look at one another. Took only that long to show the fear and guilt and pain at what they might find. And when that moment ended, the three nodded. And together, guided by the daughter of Pluto, the three ventured into the roaring silence.

Tears unwillingly streamed from Percy's eyes as he pushed the rip in his leg to the limit. He could feel Annabeth close behind him and he focused on the labored breaths as he tore across the field.  

Close, they were so close. He could see Nico and Reyna more clearly with each bounding leap.

It all happened so suddenly. At first he thought it was sheer exhaustion and adrenaline that caused him to hallucinate that when Nico opened his clenched eyes, they were completely black. But when Nico tilted his head back to the sky and loosed a ravaged scream that for some reason called to the power deep within Percy, he knew it was real. And when darkness burst from Nico like the mushroom cloud of an atom bomb, Percy froze. He couldn't see.

Annabeth, his mind screeched. Percy whirled around to where she'd been behind him mere seconds ago, but all that met him was darkness. Pitch black, dark as night until…

Gods

Oh gods

Percy fell to his hands and knees, sinking in the gore that was the earth beneath him. The cursed powers within him returned to that silent calm as they'd been since seeing Nico, but the quiet in his body gave way for nausea to overpower his senses. Because the darkness had morphed into a scene from the deepest pits of his memory, horrors he'd kept locked in the farthest catacombs of his mind. The arms he used to brace himself against the ground wracked with tremors as he emptied the contents of his stomach and then he collapsed, curling in on himself as every ounce of energy left him. The sharp pain in his leg crippled him as he shook, shivering against the coldness of the memory that continued to play out in front of him like a 3D movie.

He had to get up, had to find Nico and Annabeth, had to make sure they were okay, had to kill Echidna and save his Camp, had to…

Percy's limbs refused to obey, frozen with a terror he thought he'd long since buried.

It wasn't Tartarus that he saw. Wasn't memories of the land of unbridled hell that he was trapped in. No.

What the shadows pulled from his mind was so much worse.

Because at least in Tartarus he'd had his powers and training from Camp Half-Blood. At least in Tartarus he'd had Annabeth at his side.

The vision was made worse, made all the more real at the spikes of pain radiating from his leg. Because it was a similar sensation to the very first time Gabe Ugliano had ever broken one of Percy's bones.

It had been all Percy's fault, at least that's what Gabe had said. It was Percy's fault that his femur was broken, his fault that Gabe had to be bothered with hauling his 'sorry ass' into the beat up hunk of metal he called a car and drive him to a hospital when Percy's screams had gotten 'fucking annoying'. And when Percy had awoken from surgery in massive amounts of pain because Gabe had pocketed the orange bottle of pain-killers, Gabe had been quick to remind Percy that it was all his fault.

Hey, shithead if you'da just coughed up the 20 bucks, we wouldn't be here right now. Damn kid, your mama's gonna be all sorts 'a pissed at you. You know what this hospital bill is gonna cost her?

$20. It was because of withholding $20 that eight year old Percy didn't even have which had resulted in his step-father grabbing the nearest thing— a piece of metal tubing leftover from the plumber who'd been there the other day to fix their kitchen sink— and striking him with it. Again. And again. And again.

Laying curled up on his side in the mud, Percy wasn't sure when the images stopped playing, he wasn't sure when the pitch black shadows gave way to a soft, muted grey. He didn't know, couldn't tell, because in his mind it was still going.

He could still see Gabe threatening to kill him if he said a word of this to his mom. Could still hear his mother's rambling, tearful words as she asked what happened.

Arriving to school the day after was always an ordeal. People would ask what happened. He told so many lies he’d had to start writing them down in a journal so as to not repeat any when the teachers berated him. Because if they found out, if anyone found out, Gabe would kill him. And when that had stopped being so threatening, Gabe had shifted to saying he'd kill Percy's mom. That had kept him quiet.

"Ran into a sliding glass door," he'd say to the mirror in his room before going off to school, rehearsing the lie as it burned on his tongue. "Fell down the stairs," he'd say the week after. And they laughed, all of his fellow classmates. Not being rude, not with ill intent; the idea of him being so dumb, so foolish to have fallen down the stairs and broken his femur was just so hilarious to them all. So Percy went with it.

The teachers would say he was nothing but trouble because he always did whatever he could to be carefree. Doing 'dumb stuff' made people laugh, made them smile. And more importantly, it had distracted him.

That had been Percy's first kill. Not a Minotaur, but himself. Every time Percy went to school with bruises hidden under his clothes or a new form of cast or sling, every time Percy told his friends and teachers that it was all his fault— that he'd done something clumsy or stupid or daring— he killed a piece of himself. The other demigods had been baffled when he'd first arrived at Camp at how skilled he was with combat, how comfortable he was with death. What they didn't know, what no one but Annabeth and Nico knew was that by the time he passed through the gates of Camp Half-Blood for that very first time, he was already a warrior.

Percy

A voice drifted to him, but his memories were too loud. The sound of his step-father yelling and his mom screaming, the sound of his own crying as he was locked in the hall closet with bruised ribs.

PERCY

He knew that voice. It sounded desperate, afraid. But Percy didn't move, didn't uncurl himself, didn’t open his eyes. If he saw Gabe standing over him, he'd vomit again.

"PERCY!"

There were hands on him, strong calloused hands gripping his shoulders, solid arms wrapping around him. Percy's racing mind faltered. Not once in his entire life had Gabe hugged him.

His eyes flew open.

Annabeth

Annabeth was holding him. She was here— trembling, eyes wild from what the shadows had shown her, but she was here.

"A-Annab…"

"Shhh, I know… I know," there were tears streaming down her cheeks as she looked at him, a warm smile breaking through her anguish because he was okay. Percy was here. She'd trekked through the fog, screamed through the suffocating darkness, and found him. Annabeth wished they could sit like this, him in her arms, and recover from what they'd both endured, but this was far from over. She brushed his grime matted hair aside and clamped down on the bile rising in her throat at the sight of his wounded leg. 

"Can you stand? We need to find Nico."

At the mention of his brother's name, Percy bit down on the pain and jerked to his feet unsteadily. Annabeth was instantly there, lifting one of his arms around the back of her neck to keep his weight off the bad leg as tremors shook his frame.

Now that the pitch black darkness had diluted slightly to grey, they could make out muffled screams of the other demigods as they called out to one another. Percy and Annabeth had just joined in, crying out for any sign of Nico or the others, when without warning the fog began to recede. Darkness seeping into the earth as if the ground were a sponge, Percy gripped Annabeth tighter.

As they stumbled forward— tripping over corpses of the fallen demigods and weapons, slipping in the mud, passing through similarly disoriented demigods— the fog continued to recede. They looked behind them and could see heads then shoulders then torsos of their friends, their family. Faces white with nausea and horror from whatever those pitch black shadows had shown them in those flickering moments, but they were alive. Greeks and Romans helped each other to rise, holding each other up as they all looked around with confusion. That invasive silence still lingered, though interrupted by the now hushed whispers and clanking armor of hundreds of demigods all struggling to their feet.

Percy and Annabeth halted and looked back to where they'd been headed. The darkness clung there, that void of darkness still in the air like a wall of smoke. Percy staggered forward but Annabeth held him back.

A voice called out their names, more a strangled plea than anything.

A ways to their left and just as far from the still lingering wall of pitch black, Percy saw Reyna, Jason, and Hazel as the fog slipped away to reveal their frames. The Praetor looked burnt out as she was held up by the other two Romans as Percy was by Annabeth. But there was something in Reyna's eye that sent spikes of unease through Percy. Unbridled horror. Percy tried to swallow, but his throat was like sandpaper. For it was the look Reyna pinned Percy with that pieced the mystery together. And when realization struck him like the sword that had drug down his leg, Percy found it hard to breathe. Reyna watched his expression, watched it dawn on him. She gave a slow nod. A nod that confirmed his worst fears.

Annabeth saw it too. Her eyes darted up to meet Percy's. She had made the others swear to secrecy, to not tell her boyfriend how alike he and Nico truly were. But Percy knew. That look from Reyna, that nod. He now knew.

The God Killer's jaw clenched, brow furrowing. Silent as the void before them, he stared back into that lingering darkness. Stared at the reality of what had happened. Because Nico, his brother, was a God Killer too. The proof was in Reyna's gaze, in her posture, and in that unspeakable darkness so close yet so far away.

"Percy," Annabeth started, trying to find the words to explain the painful clarity dawning on his features. "Percy, listen to me… Nico… he… he's a—"

"You knew." Percy looked to his left, realizing for the first time how the others of the Seven— even Piper and Frank as they joined the other three, panting from the long trek across the battlefield— looked horrified though not entirely shocked or surprised. It was with knowing looks they glanced at one another before turning wearily to Annabeth, to Percy who were a shouting distance away. From the distance, Percy couldn't hear the mumbling whispers, but saw every ounce of shame and worry etched in their features. Percy barely registered the shudder that went through Annabeth as he glared at them all then down at her with betrayal. "You all knew."

"I didn't want you to—"

He wasn't listening. Could hear nothing over the raging silence radiating from the darkness and the shrieking of his own powers as they scraped inside him like polished blades on raw ice.

"He's in there," Percy half snarled to Annabeth's firm grip around his waist. But she didn't let go, even as he tried to thrash against her with a desperation that made his silent powers strike against his core, causing his rage to falter. Shoulders hunching over as he folded in on himself, he brought a hand to clamp the pressure in his chest. He winced, clamping his eyes shut and focused on her supportive arm and the bolts of pain shooting up and down his injured leg. The powers settled down as quickly as they’d awoken.

When he opened his eyes, squinting, and looked down to Annabeth, she was no longer watching him. Percy followed her wide eyed gaze. His mind, his powers, his blood froze.

Because the darkness yards away had begun to clear, the Parthenos once again visible. And beyond it, where the thousands of monsters had been marching behind Echidna…

Percy broke from Annabeth's touch. Too weakened by the scene, she released him.

He brought a hand to his mouth, limping heavily as he staggered past her to look out at the field now blanketed by light grey smoke. All around them, the other demigods were having similar reactions— but only demigods. Because the others…. the thousands of monsters who had trapped Nico… and Echidna herself…

"Oh gods," Percy got out, muffled voice wavering with horror from behind his palm.

Annabeth had no words for the sight before them, no emotions other than shock and terror. The pounding of her heart deafened even the voices in her head as silence rang between her ears. Because the field— other than gasps from the hundreds of demigods behind her— was completely silent.

Deathly silent.

It seemed as though not a single blade of grass was saved from the savage touch of red. The dirt beneath their feet had been turned to mud from the rivers of blood that soaked the earth. But it wasn't demigod blood. It wasn't the mixed blood that Gaea had demanded.

Annabeth couldn’t escape the stench of gore, even had the metallic taste of liquid agony on her tongue. And the bodies… Annabeth had seen battle, had seen war but this...

She thought such things could only exist in Tartarus. And by the look on Percy’s lethally pale face and wide eyes, she knew he was thinking the same thing; knew his mind was flashing images from their time in that land of death. Percy’s hands began to twitch, breaths ragged as he turned to her in horror, needing to see her eyes, to feel the warmth of her palm, to know that this was reality. That he wasn’t trapped in one of his night terrors. That he wasn’t back in Tartarus. Annabeth gripped his shaking hand firmly in support, and they anchored each other to the present. Although she was too scared to even speak, Annabeth mouthed to him I’m here . 

Together they looked to the field once more.

To see the endless sea of mangled bodies, of jagged bones ripped through the muscle and flesh of every creature in sight. Despite her knees going weak and Percy's hand being the only reason she was standing, Annabeth forced herself to look out at the massacre. And then to Echidna.

The Goddess of Monsters

The being even Zeus himself feared… 

Her mouth was parted in an eternal scream, shattered jaw unhinged, the flesh around her mouth split and ragged. Each tendril of her snake-like limbs was contorted at unnatural angles, white protruding at every corner and turn of the appendages. What looked like ribs at the goddesses chest were cracked open, sticking out through her green-tinted skin, revealing her insides through the tears like windows that each rib had created as they'd emerged. Ichor poured from her body like a fountain, seeping through each rip of her decimated form, dripping from the jagged bones like stalactites.

It made her stomach lurch and heart falter but Annabeth took in the sight. All of it. And, most likely due to shock, it took her a few heartbeats to notice something.

This wasn’t battle

This wasn’t slaughter

This was annihilation 

“P-percy… Percy,” her voice was strained, as if even her throat refused to voice her realization. Percy didn’t take his eyes off the scene, only nodded once, lips pressed together in a thin line. Because he saw it too. 

How the bones that were raised out of the bodies they belonged to, like crimson stained white flags of surrender, were all pointed to one spot. As if called by a magnet, they were all aimed at one thing, standing in the center of it all.

Nico

The earth beneath his feet was soaked through with blood, the field before him spanning with bones and gore. His friends, his camp, they looked out at it all with horror laced amazement in their eyes. But they were okay. They were all okay.

Despite all he had just done, the amount of lives he had just so brutally ended, that heightened power he had set free still thrummed in his veins. He felt catatonic. He felt volatile. He didn’t know how to control it, didn’t know how to keep it from overwhelming him. He felt like he had when his powers first began to evolve, when he’d first started lessons at Camp Half-Blood. Maybe with training… but there wasn’t time… he was losing his hold even now. His ears rang and he could hear nothing but the voice in his own head.

More, the urging voice wasn’t that of a cruel beast, or a hidden monster— it was his own.

You can do so much more than this

Let go.

He turned, dazed and thrumming with power, to see if Reyna and Percy were okay but as he pivoted, something caught his eye. He stilled. Impossible, it was impossible yet one last beast burst from the dense treeline, tearing across the corpses of its brethren towards Nico.

The power refused to settle in his veins; the shards of darkness slicing him from the inside, fighting for release. And yet, he contained the writhing thing, because through it he could see deep into the soul of the creature racing towards him. Time slowed, and Nico could see every collision of claws against mud, the ripple of muscle and fur from the impact of each bounding stride that caused the gore to splash in its wake. Nico pivoted and tried to steel himself in anticipation for the flash of pain of releasing only a small amount of power capable of killing the beast. He could feel the power searing his veins as he called for it, and just as he made to release a tendril of darkness, he paused.

As if compelled, Nico suddenly found himself unable to move. 

All he could do as it neared closer and closer with each bounding leap was stare into those eyes. And see himself. Because through the tired irises of the beast almost to him, Nico’s power was drawn in, forcing him to peer into the creature's soul. And at the center of all that emptiness through a haze of red fog, he saw… himself.

The discovery cost him, delaying his reactions as he jolted back to reality just barely in time to spear the beast with a shard of power as it was suddenly upon him, with a roar that nearly made Nico’s ears bleed. And as it fell to the ground, the last casualty of the God Killer, Nico was the only one to hear the whine it let out through blood stained teeth.

Percy’s throat was sore from screaming— screaming alongside the others as a massive creature pulled itself from the decimation, rising from beneath the corpses of its brethren by the treeline, and bounded for Nico. Nico, who was standing completely still as he looked out at the carnage, unaware of the monstrous being that neared him with each massive stride.

“TURN AROUND,” they all screamed as one, the campers behind them joining in. Because Nico was too far for any of them to get there in time to help, and most didn’t dare after what they’d just witnessed him do. No matter how loud they yelled, Nico did not turn. It was as if he were deaf to it all. But still, Percy tried.

“NICO!”

From beside him, Annabeth could see the true terror in Percy’s eyes as he gauged the distance and was struck with the realization that though much closer than he’d been before, there was no way he’d reach Nico or the threat in time.

But then he stopped screaming, and stilled his entire body, fingers twitching as they hung beside him. With horror as she realized what he meant to do, Annabeth seized his wrist. The screaming around them rose as the monster neared Nico who was now turned towards it, yet doing nothing as its maw opened to release a hellish cry. But Annabeth looked deep into Percy’s eyes, unafraid to hold the desperate gaze, to see the power rumbling within his own body, and stop it all with a soft shake to her head. Having been sedated for days and the buildup of power coursing through his veins that she knew was an effort to keep at bay… there was no telling what would happen if he released it. The devastation before them had been horrible enough, they could endure no more. What if he ended the lives of the demigods around them, or even Nico instead of the monster?

Percy closed his eyes, looking down in shame before pinning that lethal glare back on the monster. Annabeth didn’t think he was breathing.

Nico had turned, his back now to them all, and the beast was 30 feet away, 20, 10… 

And finally, when the creature was almost at Nico’s feet, it raised a massive paw— gore dripping from its serrated claws— and Nico shot a tendril of darkness into what must be its heart. The monster collapsed, no match for the spear of shadows and became one with the dead, falling beside its still bleeding mother’s body.

The Greek and Roman demigod’s screams ceased, and despite all of the death they had just witnessed, everyone took a breath of relief. The silence broke as cheers erupted from the unified camps. Another war won. And though the casualties weighed heavily in each survivor’s heart, it was a staggering relief to see so many alive. For once, it wasn’t the demigods who had been decimated; a first for both camps. The Ares campers released victory cries and all others embraced each other, some checking one another for injuries. The Seven were reunited as the others ran for Percy and Annabeth, a tight embrace wrapped them all, even pulling Reyna in as well.

When they finally parted with hysterical laughs and grins all around, Percy suddenly froze. He looked around at his family's relieved faces— hints of adrenaline and fear still woven into their features— but smiles nonetheless. But something was wrong. 

Annabeth noticed Percy still once again. Her attention speared for his hands, but when she saw no movement, she looked up and followed his gaze. To where Nico was standing statuesque over the last slain monster. 

Percy took a step with his good leg— his feet sinking into the red soaked earth with a sickening sound— and raised his hands to the sides of his mouth to call out across the dead. “Nico! You did it, let's get back to Camp! Will’s waiting for you!”

The son of Hades turned slowly, and Percy saw not a smile or relief on his face, but a grimace and clenched teeth. 

The cheers died out as if everyone had gone suddenly mute. Because as Percy allowed his gaze to fall from Nico’s face that held pure agony, he saw three massive gashes— the longest of which ran from the bottom of his collarbone, across his chest, all the way down to the top of his hip.

No one breathed as Nico tried to take a step forward— tried to speak, to yell out across the field of devastation— but the only language he knew was pain. Agony lashed through him and Nico stumbled. 

Percy couldn’t remember how to breathe, how to speak as he raced for his brother who had begun to fall, fighting black spots in his vision as he again pushed his wounded leg to its limit. 

And all he could hear was the sound of Nico’s body colliding with the mud, becoming one with the blood and gore.

Around her, everything stopped. 

Time froze.

She could do nothing but watch— breath caught in her lungs, heart barely palpitating— as he fell. Inch by agonizing inch. Eyes closing, knees buckling as they neared the earth. Gashes in his chest leaking life, dripping in thick streams onto the field of death, that lethal current gleaming in the ethereal light of the mid-morning sun.

Nothing existed other than that of the bloodied mud beneath her feet.

No sound reached her ears other than the impossibly loud collision of Nico’s body against that mud.

Emotions were meaningless, pain even less. Her entire body went numb the moment that sickening thud reached her ringing ears.

And then she was deafened by the roars, horrible animalistic roars tearing through her own lips.

And then she was begging, crying for Hazel to take it, to take it all. Every ounce of power in her body, every drop of strength. 

"Take it all," she rasped.

She could feel the burnout of her powers already, it was all she could feel. And it was dangerous, she knew that. But she didn't care. If it was the last thing she ever did, she'd roam the Underworld fulfilled for all of eternity. So she shrieked to the demigods, to the decimated monsters, to the gore filled battlefield, to the gods and the clouds high above.

"TAKE IT ALL!"

Her arm burned so fiercely she thought the bone might be melting, but she didn't care. Not when the pain meant salvation. Not when it could get Nico to Will. Not when it could save him. So she let it burn through to her very soul and with the last ounce of energy she had in her, Reyna clasped her hand around Nico's, the two rings scraping against one another. 

By the time Hazel pulled them all into the shadows, Reyna was the embodiment of pain.

But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered.

The last thing she felt was Nico’s hand squeeze her own. 

And the darkness that greeted Reyna was emptier than she.

"Hazel, get him to the infirmary! We'll meet you there," the urgency in Percy’s voice sliced through the paralyzing fear and the others launched into action. Frank transformed into a massive draft horse, lowering his head quickly for Percy, Annabeth, and Leo to climb on as Jason picked up Piper and took to the sky. And as they all barreled for the infirmary, as they all raced against time to reach Will, Percy didn't look back; didn't look at the utter annihilation of the beasts or the goddess, didn't look at the corpses of his family bleeding on the battlefield, didn't look at the staggering mass of demigods who watched wide eyed as they burst past but were still alive because of what Nico had done. Percy saw nothing, heard nothing but the sneering voice of Gabe Ugliano in time with the pounding of Frank's hooves.

All your fault

All your fault

All your fault

The chant, the truth, the curse coursed through him, threatening to pull him under. But he stayed afloat. With narrowed eyes and blood streaming from his leg in the gusting wind of their travel, Percy became laser focused on only one thing.

A roaring cry that sounded like Reyna pierced the sky from behind them, and when it was cut off abruptly along with a shock wave of rippling shadows and frigid air, Percy grit his teeth.  

They'll be alright, Will is going to fix it… Nico and Reyna will be fine.

Percy would entertain no other option.

But if they aren't… what will you d— 

The God Killer murdered the thought before it could fully form. And it was with a feralness that felt both foreign and familiar that he growled into the biting wind.

They'll be fine

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A word from the author:

Hello dear reader,

Before I say anything else, I’d like to thank you so very much for reading up until this point. This idea has been in my head for a very long time and it’s been so relieving and fun to finally be sharing it with you.

Now then, I would like to explain what is going to happen with the story moving forward. I have mentioned before that there would be a point where the story would split into two endings; dark and light. This is that point. 

I use the term ‘ending’ loosely, as each version will be more like a continuation of the story. They will be under these names:

Dark ending = Carpe Noctum

Light ending = Carpe Lucem 

I won’t say much here about what each will hold, but I do feel the need to caveat this. For me personally, writing is a way to escape from the world for a few hours each day, and I have a feeling some of you may feel the same way about reading. With that and the current state of the world in mind, I’d like to suggest that if you are feeling too overwhelmed right now and don’t want anymore sadness or angst or pain, please only read Carpe Lucem. Please take care of yourselves. 

But I should also say that Carpe Noctum is the ending I intended for this story. It will be much more connected to the prior chapters and delve into a lot of things I think you could truly enjoy such as Persephone and Hades, the God Killers, and Zeus. In it, you will learn the answer to the question asked by Piper in Blood of Olympus: what would Percy be like if he wanted to be scary? You will see greatness fall, divinity shatter,and light bleed from the darkest shadows.

And if you’re looking for some real anguish, then I’d suggest reading them both. 

I will try my best to post one chapter to each version every week, but it could take me a few extra days to do so and may end up being every other week.

The last thing I’ll say is this: I would really truly love it if you left a comment and let me know what you thought of this last chapter or the whole story, or which ending you’re more excited for, or anything else :) The feedback is appreciated more than you could ever know.

As always, thank you so much for reading and to those of you who have left kudos or comments on past chapters.

Stay well, and whichever continuation you decide to follow, I hope you have one hell of a ride ;)

— Manonrose284