#grover house

[everythingisahoax]

Big Groverhaus energy

[ladystoneboobs]

on this tully tuesday, fuck you ryan condal, i see what you're doing. merging kermit and oscar tully and killing off their dad elmo without even naming him, you're trying to hide the muppet-naming pattern by only including the more mundane names. people may have heard of the name grover elsewhere like nonconsective us president grover cleveland, and certainly would with oscar like oscar mayar, the baloney/weiner man, but if you hear the names elmo and/or kermit you're thinking muppets right away. smdh, if you can embrace the gothic horror of harrenhal, you should be able to embrace the whimsy of grrm naming his dance-era tullys after sesame street muppets.

[gameraboy2]

Sesame Street Magazine #135 (1980) Cover by Rick Brown

[captainpikeachu]

I always knew House of the Dragon would be too chicken shit cowardly to actually commit to the Muppet Tullys.

They are too afraid of their “prestigious” show be made fun of that they could only use the most “normal” names and erased both Elmo and Kermit. Here’s hoping they’ll actually let Oscar Tully show some fortitude and use book Kermit’s Morningstar weapon to smash Borros Baratheon’s face in.

Here’s also hoping that Willem Blackwood is not there to replace Benjicot Blackwood and Black Aly. The show ruining the Lads as it is already sucks, we don’t need it to suck any further.

[dorcasmckinnonn]

YOU CANNOT CONVINCE ME THAT GROVER WOULDN'T JUMP IN TO TARTARUS RIGHT AFTER PERCY AND ANNABETH WITHOUT HESITATION.

[cece693]

Stupid Crush (Nico di Angelo x Son of Poseidon)

This was something that suddenly came to mind and I couldn't help myself :) Hope you enjoy it.

Summary: It wasn't just the fact that Nico had to reveal his crush on Percy in front of Cupid, but when your boyfriend, the twin brother of said boy, was also in attendance, Nico's life was destroyed.

tags: Nico confesses his crush on Percy, however he's dating you, reader is Percy's twin brother, things get angsty 😈

Nico’s heart pounded in his chest as Cupid’s mocking voice echoed around them, his magic coiling around Nico's soul like a noose. Jason stood on one side, his blue eyes wide with concern, while you—Percy’s twin brother and Nico’s boyfriend—were on the other. Cupid’s voice dripped with cruel amusement, cutting through the silence like a knife. "The truth, Nico di Angelo. Tell them who once held your heart."

Nico’s throat closed up, his worst nightmare unraveling before his eyes. This was the moment he had fought so hard to avoid—the truth he had buried deep within himself, even from you. But there was no escape now. Cupid’s magic tightened, pulling the confession from his lips like a venomous secret. "I…" Nico’s voice cracked, his fists trembling as he clenched them at his sides. "Percy Jackson."

The air in the room shifted. Your breath hitched, but Nico couldn’t bring himself to look at you. He knew what he would see—shock, hurt, betrayal, the crumbling of the trust you'd built together. The pain he’d been dreading. "What?" Your voice came out in a cold, broken whisper.

Nico swallowed hard, staring at the floor. "It was before I met you, before Percy got with Annabeth. I thought—" He stopped, the words turning to ash in his mouth.

But you could read between the lines. Now everything made sense, how Nico easily allowed you to befriend him; you weren't special, just a boy who shared the same face as someone Nico loved. Loves. "So, let me get this straight. You're only with me because my brother didn't return your feelings? Am I just your consolation prize?"

Nico’s head snapped up, panic swelling in his chest. "No! No, it’s not like that!"

Your eyes narrowed, fury replacing the initial shock. "Really?" you spat, taking a step toward him. "Because from where I’m standing, it sounds like you settled for me when you couldn’t have Percy."

Nico’s voice wavered as he pleaded, desperate to make you understand. "I didn’t settle! I chose you because I love you. That crush…it was stupid. It doesn’t mean anything anymore!"

But Cupid’s laughter echoed again, cruel and jagged like shattered glass. "Ah, but old feelings never truly die, do they, son of Hades?" The god’s voice teased, his presence hanging over them like a storm. "You can hide it, bury it, but the truth always has a way of surfacing." Nico had never wanted to strike down a god as much as he did now. "Now that the truth is out," Cupid continued, his mocking tone fading as his presence disappeared, "I'll leave you to deal with the consequences."

Silence fell, but the weight of Cupid’s words lingered like a blade pressed against Nico’s throat.

"You played me." Your voice, thick with unshed tears, barely above a whisper but laced with so much pain that it felt like a physical blow. "You say you love me, but if Percy hadn't chosen Annabeth…if he had even shown the slightest interest in you, would you still have ended up with me?"

Nico froze, the question like a dagger to his chest. He wanted to deny it, to say that nothing would have changed the way he felt about you. Perhaps your friendship did arise from some misguided crush on Percy, but as time progressed, Nico fell in love with you. You. But even then it took time for him to distance who you and Percy were, sometimes it even stunned him how much you were alike, so if Percy did magically return his feelings, would Nico fall for you? His silence seemed to confirm your suspicions as your expression hardened.

"That’s what I thought."

Jason stepped forward, trying to break the tension. "Guys, come on. Maybe we should—"

"Stay out of it!" You snapped, your voice sharp enough to make him flinch. Jason took a step back, helplessly looking between you both, understanding that this was something beyond his control.

Nico reached out, desperate to grab your hand, to stop you from slipping further away, but you recoiled. "Don’t." Your voice was quiet but firm, the finality in that one word shattering the last bit of hope Nico had. "Just…don’t."

Nico could only watch as you turned away, disappearing into the shadows. Jason hesitated for a moment before following after you, leaving Nico alone in the cold, empty chamber, the weight of what he had just lost settling deep in his bones.

When the three of you returned to the Argo II, the change in atmosphere was immediate. Gone was your usual bright demeanor, replaced by hollow eyes and the kind of blank expression that spoke of barely contained pain. Nico, too, was different. His usual quiet presence had shifted into something darker—his shoulders slumped under the weight of regret, his face pale as if he were just moments away from breaking.

The others exchanged worried glances but said nothing as you silently headed toward your cabin. The slam of the door reverberated through the ship, causing everyone to flinch, even Nico, whose eyes lingered on the door as if willing it to open and for everything to go back to how it had been. But it wouldn’t.

Hazel was the first to break the silence. "What happened?" she asked, her voice soft, her gaze fixed on Nico. When he didn’t respond, avoiding her eyes, she looked to Jason, who merely shook his head, pity etched across his features. "Nico," Hazel pressed gently, her worry growing. "You can talk to us."

But Nico didn’t answer. Instead, he stepped back, letting the shadows around him rise, and within moments, he was gone—leaving the others standing in silence.

Days had passed, but to Nico, each one felt like an eternity. Every hour that dragged on without your voice, without your gaze meeting his, was a torment he hadn’t anticipated. The coldness that had settled between you was suffocating. Whenever Nico approached, even just to be in the same room, you’d find some excuse to leave. He could sense it, the way you tensed whenever he was nearby, the way you averted your gaze, as if looking at him was too painful. And that hurt more than anything—knowing he was the cause of it.

The others noticed the growing distance between you two. The worried glances exchanged over meals, the whispers behind his back. Jason and Hazel, in particular, kept trying to reach out, but Nico had shut himself off. What could he say? How could he explain the rift when the mere thought of it made his chest ache? Even Leo, who usually cracked jokes at the dinner table, had grown more subdued, as if the tension in the air had smothered his usual cheer.

Nico couldn’t bear it anymore. He had to fix this—he had to at least try. He couldn’t stand the silence, the void that had replaced the closeness they once shared. So, one night, when the Argo II drifted quietly through the sky and everyone had retreated to their cabins, Nico ventured out onto the deck. The night was cool, the stars twinkling above like distant, indifferent observers to his misery. But that wasn’t what caught his eye.

You were there—alone, standing at the edge of the ship, staring out into the horizon. For a moment, Nico just watched you, his heart aching at how much he missed simply being near you. He could almost imagine everything was fine—that you were waiting for him, that you’d smile when he approached, kiss his forehead, and mention how he needed to take better care of himself.

Gathering his courage, Nico stepped forward, his footsteps soft against the deck. "Can we talk?"

You stiffened at his voice, but didn’t turn around. For a few agonizing moments, there was nothing but silence. Then, with a sigh, you spoke, your voice devoid of the warmth Nico so desperately missed. "I don’t know what there is left to say."

Nico’s heart sank, but he pressed on. "Please, just let me explain."

At that, you turned to face him, and Nico saw the exhaustion in your eyes. The sleepless nights, the weight of betrayal, all of it etched into your features. "Explain what, Nico?" Your voice was calm, but there was an edge to it, a coldness that made his chest tighten. "That you were in love with my brother? That you settled for me? That I wasn't your first choice? Do you think words are going to fix this?"

"No," Nico whispered, stepping closer, his voice strained with the weight of everything he wanted to say. "No, I don’t think words can fix it. But I never meant to hurt you. I—" He paused, swallowing hard, trying to find the right words. "It was a crush. A stupid, meaningless crush. I didn’t choose you because of Percy. I chose you because of you."

Your eyes flickered with something—anger, hurt, betrayal—but you didn’t waver. "Then why didn’t you deny it when I asked you? Why didn’t you just say that nothing could have changed how you felt about me? Why did you hesitate?"

Nico opened his mouth, but the words wouldn’t come. He hadn’t known what to say back then, and even now, he was at a loss. How could he explain that moment of doubt without sounding like the worst kind of person?

"You see?" You shook your head, your expression hardening. "You couldn’t. You couldn’t tell me that I wasn’t just second best. But, do you know what hurts the most? It’s not just that you had feelings for Percy. It’s that a god had to force you to tell the truth. If Cupid hadn’t intervened…how long would you have strung me along? How long would I have been in the dark while you carried this secret? Were you ever going to tell me?"

"I—" Nico started, his voice faltering. "I didn’t mean to hide it from you. I didn’t want you to get hurt. It was just a crush. Something stupid. And I thought I’d gotten over it, I swear." He took a step closer, his eyes pleading with you to understand. "I grew a crush on Percy when we were younger—when I first came to camp. He was the hero. Brave, kind...everything I wasn’t. And I thought, maybe if I could be near him, maybe I’d feel like I belonged."

Nico’s hands clenched into fists at his sides as he remembered those days, the confusion, the hope, and the loneliness that had followed. "But it wasn’t real. Not like what I feel for you. Percy was this…this idea in my head, someone I admired from afar. But you—" His voice broke, his eyes locking onto yours with desperation. "You were real. You saw me for who I am, all the broken parts, and still cared. What I feel for you isn’t some crush or fantasy. It’s love. I love you."

You shook your head, your face twisted with both anger and pain. "But how am I supposed to believe that, Nico? After everything? How do I know you aren’t still lying to yourself or to me? You say it’s love, but how do I trust that?"

Nico felt like the ground was crumbling beneath him. He couldn’t lose you—he couldn’t. "I’m not lying," he insisted. "I swear it. On the River Styx, on my mother, on Bianca—on everything I hold dear—I love you. I don’t care about Percy anymore. What I had for him was nothing compared to what I feel for you."

The solemn weight of Nico’s oath filled the air, the magic of the River Styx sealing his words, making them unbreakable. The sky seemed to darken for a moment, a rumble of thunder far in the distance, confirming the binding nature of his vow.

But you didn’t flinch, didn’t waver. Your eyes, once filled with love, now only reflected the deep wounds left behind. "Maybe you believe that, Nico," you said softly, but the coldness in your voice made it clear that something between you had shifted, something that could never be undone. "But I can’t anymore. I can’t keep going, wondering if I’ll ever fully have your heart. Because that shadow—the one you said lingered over you—it’ll always be there, won’t it?"

Nico’s breath hitched, the weight of your words crushing him. He wanted to scream, to beg, to prove that you were wrong. That there was no shadow, no lingering doubt in his heart. But his silence, that hesitation back in Cupid’s lair, had already broken something vital between you. And now, no matter what he swore on, no matter how much he begged, you didn’t believe him anymore.

Tears pricked at Nico’s eyes as he realized that he was losing you, that you had already made up your mind. "Please…" he whispered, his voice barely audible. "Please don’t go."

You looked at him for a long, painful moment, and Nico thought—hoped—that maybe there was still a chance. But then, you shook your head, and turned away, leaving him standing there, the solemn weight of his oath ringing hollow in the night air. Nico felt the cold wind biting at his skin, but it was nothing compared to the emptiness that had settled deep within him as he watched you walk away. Alone, once again.

[valewritessss]

Rick made up for not having Percabeths pov in Blood of Olympus by giving us three new books of the celestial trio so I forgive him

[percabethcoded]

percy jackson is one lucky demi-god i mean look at her i would give up immortality for her too 🔱🥹🤏🏼

[bellarkeselection]

His Compass of Harrenhal - part 2

Part 1

part 3

Tag list - @only4thefics @superintenseart @universallyrascaldreamercookie @uniquecroissant @vavafaure1994

Tossing the covers off of my body as quickly as I could I suddenly felt sick to my stomach. Daemon had a strong arm draped over my waist until I shoved his arms off of me. Stumbling out of the bed I flew to the chamber pot puking whatever was in my stomach from the dinner we ate the night before. “Y/n, what’s made you ill?” Daemon had awoken from his sleep running over to hold my hair out of my face..

“I’m not quite sure.” I croaked out once I had finally emptied the contents of my stomach and sat with my back against his chest.

Daemon rested his chin on top of my head, keeping his arms wrapped around my waist. “I’ll go find a Maester right away-“

“I’ll come with you. If this is some illness I don’t wish to pass out onto the floor while you’re away.” I snatched his wrist, halting him from going further. Together we made our way through the castle until the closest person we came upon was none other than Alice Rivers.

“You’re new wife becomes sick this morning I hear.”

Daemon grumbled still not trusting the woman before us. “I don’t have time for your words, witch. Just tell me what is wrong with my wife. You are apparently this haunted castle’s only maester.”

“Lay her on the table.” She rushed quickly clearing off her workspace before Daemon laid me down on my back and she rubbed her hand all over my stomach and lifted up my nightgown before asking me. “When did you last bleed, lady fish?”

Running a hand through my hair I couldn’t exactly recall the last time. “I don’t entirely know. Possibly two moons ago. Why?”

“If you haven’t bled recently then you’re pregnant with his wee bear growing inside your belly.” Alice points her hand at Daemon who tried to show no emotion around her.

Rolling over onto my side I grinned back at the dragon prince. “We’re gonna have a baby.”

Daemon crossed the room not saying anything before he grabbed my face and kissed me deeply until we needed air. “You will be a very excellent mother to our little dragon.” I wrapped my arms around his neck drawing him back in for another kiss until someone interrupted the kiss.

“Your grace, oh - uh forgive me.” The caretaker of the castle named Simon came into the room seeing us sharing a moment.

Daemon didn’t look at the man when he grumbled his next words. “What is it?”

“The lord of Riverrun has arrived.”

I jumped down from the table running as fast as my legs could carry me, not bothering to wait on the men behind me. I hadn’t seen a member of my family since my father had shipped me off to this place so long ago. Pushing the doors open I expected to see my very ill father but I was greeted by a young boy with curly brown hair standing in front of the large round table. “Who might you be?”

“My name is Oscar. My grandsire is Grover Tully. Praise the gods Aunt Y/n is that you?” Oscar began formally speaking until he recognized the eyes staring back at him.

I let out a half chuckle crossing the room moving closer to the boy. “Ha! So my father did mention me after he shipped me off. Anyhow, Oscar look how big you’ve grown. I remember how small you were on your first nameday. Can I get a hug, little nephew?”

“I didn’t think I’d ever get to meet you.” He flung his arms around my neck and I wrapped my arms around his neck bringing him in closer with us both laughing in enjoyment. “I’ve heard tales of the Tully daughter who decided to wield a sword despite what everyone else thinks about it.”

“Well isn’t this a happy family reunion?” Daemon sent me a smile resting one hand on the handle of his sword that he carried on his hip.

“My - my - my prince. Uh my grace - your grace.” Oscar nervously tried to address him once we had broken our hug seeing Daemon and Simon Strong enter the room.

Daemon glanced back at the Strong man. “Lord Grover is looking more hair than healthy than I expected.”

“This is Oscar Tully. Grandson to Grover Tully. He is heir to Riverun and the future Lord Paramount of the Riverlands. His grace, the king concoct Daemon Targaryen and his Lady Wife I suppose Y/n of - um forgive me my lady.”

I sent the older man a gentle smile. “He’s my nephew, Simon Strong. I’m formerly of House Tully.”

“It is an honor, your grace.” Oscar said watching the dragon remove his sword, laying it on the table and sitting down before him and only then did the nervous lad sit down too.

Daemon nodded his head in my direction. “Indeed. Lady wife, come sit with us.”

“Oh okay.” I sat beside Daemon in the next chair over.

Daemon turned his attention to the young lad. “How fair’s your grandsire?”

“Sadly he remains incapacitated. He lies in a kind of waking sleep. Unable to do much more than eat or take a drink. It is barely enough to sustain him.”

Daemon tapped his fingers on the table. “So he’s alive?”

“Yes, gods be good.” Oscar brightly smiled.

Daemon leaned forward closer to the young boys face whispering a sentence that caught us both off guard for certain. “Well my time here is short and I’m in need of an army. Perhaps you place a feather pillow over his face and speed along your inheritance - fuck Y/n!”

“What the hell is the matter with you. You’re asking him to kill a member of my family when he’s only the age of ten and five.” I smacked my husband upside the back of the head sharply.

Daemon rubbed the back of his head glancing over at me. “If he’s an old man. Why let him suffer in pain. A quick death would be better for him and his grandson.”

“I - I love my grandsire. Like a father. My own Lord father died himself a young man. Lord Grover raised me in his stead.” Young Oscar explained nervously not thinking this conversation would resort to violence.

Daemon lowered his hand from the sore backside of his head bringing the topic of war back to the table. I knew he didn't like having to wait on anything, especially when it came to fighting battles. “All very touching are you here to speak with your grandsire's voice of House Tully in the Riverlands?”

“While he still lives?” Oscar raised a brow offended at the idea. “That is not our way.”

Daemon growled in the boy's face, picking up his sword and leaving the room. “Then you're of no use to me. I can see why the Blackwoods and Brackens did not fear to start a war beneath the nose of their ledge lords. House Tully is a fish with no head.”

“Daemon.” I called his name while getting up from my chair.

He placed his sword back onto his hip only sparing me a glance before he left the room. “Summon the Blackwoods here. I require men of action to lead my host of Rivermen.”

“Daemon! Daemon, wait a minute.” I chased after the prince grabbing the back of his tunic yanking hi, backwards before he could get any further from me. “I know you don’t like to hear that you’ll have to wait but-“

He spun around on his feet getting in my face. “I hate waiting. When you’re fighting a war there’s rarely time to wait for anyone else’s help.”

“Let me get my words out before you bite my head off. Like I was saying, give my lord Father time to pass on his own time and then you might have an edge of me talking with my nephew so that he and his bannermen will follow your queen Rhaenyra. Can you do that for me hmm. Can you take a pause before you run when something doesn’t go your way?”

He grabbed my face in his hands resting his forehead down against mine releasing a breath I didn’t know he was holding in. “I suppose I’ll have to wait for our little dragon to come into the world. So this should be no different.”

“Thank you, Daemon.” Draping my arms around his neck we embraced the other in a long hug.

[1800-lemon-boy]

Friendly reminder that Grover and Percy’s empathy link was still there in Tartarus.

<33

[blink182times]

WHY IS LEAH THIRD WHEELING LMAO

[lady-menrva]

PJO Meme Dump (1 of ??)

DISCLAIMER: These memes merely reflect my opinions. I don't intend to spread hate or personally attack any fans, or even Riordan.

Nico before the cupid encounter:

(Crappy attempt at dark humour...)

about Rick...

𝙎𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙋𝙚𝙧𝙘𝙮 𝙛𝙖𝙣𝙨/𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙚 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮 𝙥𝙞𝙚𝙘𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙋𝙚𝙧𝙘𝙮 𝙞𝙣 𝙞𝙩:

(No offense, but the whole "ThiS bOoK DoeSnT HavE PerCY In it!! " crowd is a bit too much to take... )

This one too:

[iheartbookbran]

it is crazy that the thing that’s going to finally make Daemon realize that maybe he’s not cut out for ruling after all is having to deal with the Bracken vs. Blackwood bullshit for like a month

[diary-of-a-demigod]

i fucking hate the animal heads in the big house, the deer (moose???) keeps fucking growling at me and it tried to BITE ME

-g.u.

[mythology-void]

obsessed with Hades in pjo. he serves looks. he's 10/10 host material. he offered them snacks when they came in. he's literally just living his life. he thinks ares is a moron. he saved Percy's mom and was weirdly polite about using her as a bargaining chip. he has no idea what's going on. he's a girlboss. he immediately offered Percy sanctuary when he found out what was going on. he genuinely cares about people's well-being. he's overworked and stressed out. he's deeply confused. he's not scary at all he's literally just a sleep deprived ceo. he's an icon and I love him so much

[cece693]

PLEASE PART TWO OF THAT NICO DI ANGELO FIC

I'm not even a fan nor do I know anything about the PJO series but that.. THAT fic makes me wanna start reading it

Sword Fighting Pt. 2 (Nico Di Angelo x Son of Aphrodite)

Part 1 can be found here, however, you don't need to read it to understand this.

tags: love confessions, Nico being overprotective, near-death experience, takes place during The Blood of Olympus, reader is injured (badly)

Time was something demigods rarely had, and Nico di Angelo had lived long enough to know that it always slipped through their fingers. He never planned to reveal his feelings for you, the son of Aphrodite, but as Gaea rose from her slumber and the earth itself raged in the final battle, regret gnawed at him.

He should’ve told you.

The battlefield was a maelstrom of chaos—monsters falling, demigods fighting with every last bit of strength they had left. The air was thick with dust and the stench of death, but through it all, Nico’s eyes sought you. You moved like a whirlwind, graceful and deadly, wielding your twin blades with a skill that defied your heritage.

Even now, in the heart of war, there was a terrible beauty to how you fought—fluid, precise, unstoppable. Nico's breath hitched as he watched you, his heart pounding in a way that had nothing to do with the battle around him. He had seen many things in his life—gods, monsters, and the depths of the Underworld—but he'd never seen anything as beautiful as you.

For a moment, it seemed like the battle was turning in their favor. The monsters were thinning, their numbers dwindling under the combined might of Camp Half-Blood and Camp Jupiter. Nico’s heart pounded with a glimmer of hope. Maybe—just maybe—they had a chance.

Then it happened.

As the demigods paused to catch their breath, thinking they had won, a final foe—enormous, armored, and ancient—rose from the shadows, roaring with fury. The beast lunged, aiming straight for Hazel, its jagged weapon raised for a killing blow.

You didn’t hesitate. Without a second thought, you threw yourself between the beast and Hazel. Nico saw it as if in slow motion—how your eyes flashed with determination and your blade shone in the sun as you swung to kill the beast before a sickening crunch echoed across the battlefield. You had saved Hazel, but you had also been stuck, crumpling to the ground, your blood spilling across the earth.

“No!” Nico’s voice tore through the chaos, a raw cry filled with panic and horror. He barely felt his feet moving as he sprinted toward you. He reached your side in what felt like an eternity, falling to his knees beside you. Blood stained through your armor, dark and thick, pooling beneath your body. Your face was pale, lips quivering as you struggled to draw breath.

“Nico…” you gasped, your voice barely a whisper, eyes fluttering.

“No, no, no stay with me.” Nico pleaded, his hands trembling as he pressed them against your wound, desperately trying to stop the bleeding. Around him, the other demigods rushed to your side—they moved quickly, but it felt agonizingly slow to Nico. The son of Aphrodite was barely conscious as Percy and Jason lifted him gently, careful not to jostle his broken form too much.

Hazel, pale with guilt and worry, led the way back to the makeshift camp they had set up behind the front lines. It was a patch of relative calm amidst the chaos of war, but Nico’s heart hammered in his chest like a storm.

“Will!” Nico screamed, his voice tight with fear. The blond healer turned around and paled upon seeing your state—ushering Percy and Jason to lay you in an empty bed.

“This is bad,” Will muttered, his voice hushed, trying to keep his composure as he assessed your chest. He pressed a glowing hand to your wound, his brow furrowed in concentration, but he shook his head slightly. “The weapon must’ve been enchanted—it’s deeper than it looks, and it’s not healing like it should.”

Nico’s throat tightened. “You can heal it though, right? You have to.”

Will glanced at Nico, his expression shadowed with doubt. “I don’t know, Nico. This kind of wound…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “I’ll do everything I can.” His grip on your hand tightened as Will began his work, the faint golden glow of healing energy surrounding your body, but Nico could tell it wasn’t enough.

Hours passed, and Will pushed himself to the limit, alternating between ambrosia, nectar, and healing magic, trying everything he knew. But still, your breathing was shallow, and the wound stubbornly refused to fully close. Nico stayed by your side the entire time, refusing to move, barely blinking as he watched every flicker of your face for a sign of improvement.

The others came and went—between the battle's cleanup and burning of shrouds—they all offered words of comfort, but Nico barely registered them. His world had narrowed to the cot where you lay, your face pale and peaceful as if already slipping into the void.

Days blurred together. Each dawn brought a renewed wave of dread, as Nico feared you wouldn’t wake up. Every breath you took seemed a miracle, but it wasn’t enough. Ambrosia was fed to you sparingly, Will careful not to overuse it. Every time you twitched or murmured in your sleep, Nico’s heart leapt, only to sink again when you didn’t stir beyond that.

He never left your side.

“Nico you need to rest,” Will urged gently, exhaustion lining his own features. “You’ve been here for days. You can’t keep going like this.”

Nico shook his head. “I’m not leaving him.”

Will opened his mouth to argue but stopped. He knew better than to push Nico. The look in his eyes—dark, haunted—was enough to silence any protest. He had seen that look before, in the faces of those who had lost too much already, those who were on the edge of breaking. “Okay.” Will said softly, placing a reassuring hand on Nico’s shoulder before stepping out of the tent. His footsteps faded, leaving the ghost king alone in the dimly lit space.

Nico leaned forward, resting his forehead on the back of your hand. His body was heavy with exhaustion, every muscle aching from his own battle wounds and malnutrition, not having eaten anything in days, but he couldn't leave. Nico wouldn't. The thought of walking away, even for a moment, felt like abandonment—like if he left your side, you might slip away for good. And that…that was something Nico couldn’t bear.

“I convinced myself there was time to tell you how I felt,” Nico said, his voice cracking, each word feeling like it was pulled from a wound too deep to close. “But now…now it might be too late.”

His breath hitched, and he squeezed your hand tighter, as if holding onto you physically would stop you from slipping away. He could feel the faint warmth of your skin, but it wasn’t enough. It didn’t feel real—none of this did. You were so still, your chest rising and falling with shallow, labored breaths. The strong, brilliant demigod he admired—no, loved—reduced to this fragile, fading presence in the cot before him.

Nico swallowed hard, the ache in his chest nearly unbearable. "I should’ve told you the moment I realized. I should’ve been braver. But I was scared. Scared that you wouldn’t feel the same, or worse—that if I let you in, you’d leave me. Like Bianca did."

The name hung heavy in the air, thick with old grief. His sister. His rock. The one person who had ever made him feel less alone—until you came along. Losing her had shattered him in ways he’d never fully recovered from, and the thought of losing you now? It was a nightmare he couldn’t endure.

“I couldn’t handle it,” Nico whispered, his voice trembling as the confession spilled out. “If you leave me, I don’t know if I’ll survive it. Not again. I’m not strong enough to go through that again.”

The dam broke, and the words came faster, more desperate. “I swear, if you die on me, I’ll follow you. I don’t care what Will or anyone says. I’ll follow you to Elysium if I have to." He pressed his forehead against the back of your hand, his body shaking with the effort of holding back tears. "I love you. I should’ve said it before. I love you, and I’m not ready to let you go."

For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. Nico stayed perfectly still, the weight of his confession hanging between you, the silence around him thick and unbearable. Then, faintly, a shift—a movement so small Nico almost didn’t notice it. Your fingers twitched beneath his.

His eyes snapped open, and he lifted his head in disbelief. A soft, rasping sound reached his ears. “Nico…” His heart lurched. Your eyes fluttered open, bleary and filled with pain, but undeniably alive. You coughed weakly, wincing at the movement, but your lips curled into a faint smile. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Nico froze, staring at you as if you were a ghost. The relief hit him so suddenly that he couldn’t breathe. “You’re awake…” His voice was barely a whisper, disbelief coloring every word.

Your smile widened just a fraction, though it was strained with effort. “You didn’t think I’d leave you, did you?”

Nico’s relief was overwhelming, but it didn’t come without an edge of something sharper. Anger, bitter and cold, began to surface as he stared at you, still fragile but alive. The thought of how close you came to dying—how close he came to losing you—made his chest tighten painfully.

He pulled back, his expression hardening, the words spilling out before he could stop them. “What the hell were you thinking!? You nearly died out there!”

You blinked, still groggy but more aware now, and gave a weak smile. “Someone had to, right?” you rasped, trying to lighten the tension, but Nico wasn’t having it.

“That’s not the point!” Nico’s voice was louder than he intended, eyes burning with something between fury and heartbreak. “You could’ve died. You almost did."

Your smile widened, even as you winced at the effort. “You would’ve done the same thing,” you said, your voice hoarse but filled with that infuriating calmness. “If it had been you, and Hazel was in danger, you wouldn’t have hesitated.”

Nico froze, his jaw clenching as the truth of your words settled over him. He wanted to argue, to shout at you for being reckless and careless with your life, but he couldn’t. You were right, and that only made it worse. If the roles were reversed, Nico knew, deep down, that he would’ve done exactly the same thing.

You smirked at his silence, clearly pleased with yourself. “See?” you said softly, your voice still weak but playful. “I know you, di Angelo.”

Nico scowled, but his anger was already slipping away, replaced by something warmer, something he couldn’t quite name but felt deep in his bones. He didn’t reply to your teasing, didn’t trust himself to say anything without his emotions spilling over again. Instead, he just shook his head and muttered, “You’re impossible.”

You laughed, though it quickly turned into a pained cough. Nico’s heart clenched again, his worry returning in full force. “I don’t care what you think,” He said after a moment, his voice quieter now, but still laced with intensity. “Next time, don’t throw your life away for anyone. Not Hazel. Not even me.”

You met his gaze, your smile softening. “I won’t.” you said, though the glint in your eyes told him you were lying. Nico didn’t reply to that. He knew you too well—knew that your words were empty promises. But for now, you were alive, and that was all that mattered.