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…”