#nico di angelo character study

[aficionadoenthusiast]

i could point out the beautiful parallels between nico's crush on percy, the crush he developed due to childhood trauma and intense hero worship and hung onto even after he thought his hero betrayed him, and annabeth's crush on luke, the crush she developed due to childhood trauma and hero worship and held onto even after her hero betrayed her, and how both of their crushes are commentary on their upbringings, nico's being how grief and internalized homophobia caused him to latch onto the beautiful hero that saved his life, annabeth's being how growing up neglected and unwanted caused her to latch onto the first person who showed her any attention and how that attachment only strengthened in their shared grief, and how those parallels extended to show how their respective attachments left them vulnerable to manipulation yet ended up not joining the dark side, ironically in part because of percy, either because of the crush (nico) or in spite of the crush (annabeth), and how those crushes contributed to their overall character arcs, nico's being to learn to let go: of grudges, grief, and his own self-hatred as a two part climax on that one page of boo and the cocoa puffs in tsats with will being the catalyst to making him see his own worth, annabeth's being to learn what real, healthy love looks like (a spot of irony: percy taught her this, which is contrasted with her typically being the person to teach him stuff) in contrast to what she ultimately got with luke which was manipulation, because luke, also being a neglected kid, never learned what healthy love looks like, but you guys are not ready to hear that so instead i'll just try not to cry at the hypocrisy of the pjo fandom's obsession with nico's crush on percy while refusing to see annabeth's crush on luke as anything more than a disgusting mistake

[mediumgayitalian]

fic rec friday 14

hi!! welcome to fic rec friday. every week, i pick five fics i have bookmarked and rec them with a little review. check them out!

at last (i see the light) by @theroyalsavage

Of a tower, a missing prince with the sun in his hair and the ability to heal with a touch, and a terrible-dangerous-very-bad bandit who’s never been all that good at being very bad, dangerous, or terrible. An AU based off of Disney’s Tangled.

IVE BEEN W A I T I N G FOR A SOLANGELO TANGLED AU OMG. and this ATE. was so fucking good. obviously bc its theroyalsavage but still omg. sorry for harrassing u btw. but i LOVE this. nico as flynn pov and just fucking reluctantly smitten from the beginning.....oh i know that's right

2. a letter to the moon (it is not brighter than you) by @theroyalsavage

When his kingdom is plagued by a series of unsolvable murders, Prince Will Solace must confront several things: tragedy, helplessness, and the dizzy-sweet inevitability of falling in love.

is this, like the author's note indicates, reminiscent of bbc merlin? yes. and so i LOVE. rivals to friends to lovers my BELOVED. royalty aus my BELOVED. and honestly yall should be supporting my royalsavage agenda purely by her titles like LOOK at these. my heart hurts like

3. In the darkest grays by @izlaria

[The sun bursts, clouds break.] Nico di Angelo loves in color. This is something that Will Solace has always known.

hi. i am obsessed w this fic. a nico character atudy that is disguised as will character study that IS a will character study........something something they are braided strings of fate something something....also! sally jackson my love!! she is everything to me and of COURSE she would show up here!! i am also obsessed w longtime pining will like is it even a solangelo fic if will has not been in the trenches since he was ten years old

4. eudaimonia by @forochel

Nico watched Percy wave his arms excitedly at Annabeth and breathed through the habitual twisting of his stomach. For a moment, he thought of walking over to them - ever the masochist, he thought wryly to himself - but then Annabeth threw her head back in a laugh, and Nico dismissed the thought. There would be another time and another place. ** Diverges SLIGHTLY from canon in that Nico does not confess to Percy right off the bat - he gets the chance to heal, find himself and a place to stand in camp, and form friendships. Also, attempts to fix the whole Solangelo shoehorning thing.

AUTHOR IF YOU ARE STILL ACTIVE. FOROCHEL IF YOU SEE THIS. I AM BEGGING. KNEES ON THE GROUND HANDS CLASPED ROSARY CHOKING LIKE A NOOSE. PLEASE. PLEASE UPDATE THIS SERIES IM BEGGING. I KNOW IT IS UNGRATEFUL BUT 20K IS NOT ENOUGH. THIS IS N I C O S VOICE. LIKE ACTUALLY. dude it KILLS me this is HIM 😭😭😭 i cannot get over how wonderful this is and how FRESH....like this came out right after boo! it was fresh in ur mind!! and you went CRAZY like this is SO SO GOOD!! this fic is CONSTANTLY rotating in my mind and i am constantly thinking about the path it carved.....hve never gotten over it ever

5. Baby Satyrs and Charming Boyfriends by @biancadiangeno / @fiestiest

Nico di Angelo had absolutely no idea how babysitting works, and Will Solace was having way too much fun teasing him to actually help out.

this fic is so silly and fun. i love it!! and the ending made me giggle will needed that humbling

thank you for joining me this friday!! happy reading!!

[thestarstoasun]

Possibly a hot take, but I think the Tartarus trip actually helped Will a lot. Obviously I have my disappointments with the book, but we do not only see Nico healing from the copious amount of trauma Rick fit into him; we get to see Will come to terms with darker parts of himself.

It's canon/very heavily implied (I can't remember and don't feel like looking it up) he came to camp at a very young age, younger than campers that aren't deemed "powerful" or have a strong scent. Despite Will thinking he isn't strong, he is the best healer Camp Half Blood has seen in, what we can assume, at least a century. He's a year-rounder, so he hasn't experienced life on the outside in years. Hell, until Trials of Apollo, his godly parent hardly took notice of him.

His older brothers and other siblings were his biggest supporters and motivators. They looked out for him and took care of him in place of a parent, specifically the older kids (Lee and Michael.) And he lost them during the Dark Prophecy - less than 2 years apart from each other. He didn't even get to search for Michael because Percy took him for a joyride across Manhattan on a motorcycle to help Annabeth.

Even after all of that, its implied/seen that he's someone who is always looking on the bright side of things, never making anything about himself, always helping others, etc. He's a ray of sunshine in everyone's life, never allowing himself to show anyone that he's hurting or suffering because he feels like he just can't. After all, he's Will Solace. He is the head medic, the infirmary can't just stop running. He's the counselor for cabin, his siblings need him to be strong.

He represses his negative emotions, even admits to it in Trials of Apollo. I think he represses them to a point he can avoid/ignore them or pretend they aren't his. It's easier to be a ray of sunshine in people's lives if the negativity and darkness you feel are projected onto someone else.

These tendencies are also something that causes strain in Nico and Will's relationship, because Nico doesn't understand how Will can't see how hypocritical he is. When in reality, Will does know, but it's easier if he avoids it. Ignorance is bliss after all. This doesn't mean Will doesn't work on trying to let Nico in, because he does, sort of.

On bad days, the days when he wakes up and wants nothing more than to curl up in the arms of his older brothers, he would go to Nico's cabin. However, his only explanation would ever be, "im tired." It frustrated him just as much as it upset Nico. He wasn't even sure if his boyfriend could tell. (Nico could, but that didn't mean it hurt any less.)

In Persephone's garden, he was forced to face the fact that there is darkness/negativity/hurt inside of him. He can't deny it when it's right in front of him, so he finally has to stop repressing everything, stop running away, and face his pains.

[ashthenerd]

Dionysus

Dionysus had so much trauma. He was gaslight about his gender for the start of his life, Hera drove his parents past the brink of sanity, he's lost so many kids and he's seen as "the drunk" He is the most human of the gods, maybe because he started off as a human. He played an active role in rasing his kids, he directly disobeyed Zeus' orders after the battle of the Labrynth because his son, his baby had just been murdered, and he had 1 child left and Zeus be fucked, he was going to make sure that he's okay. He has been traumatised so much and he didn't know how to deal with it so he makes sure that this generation deals with it safely, he makes sure that Nico eats, because he is a child that needs to grow and it is so important for his health, and he makes sure that it doesn't fall to Will, because even though he pretends that he's okay, Will is far from it, and Dionysus helps him without pushing it, he takes some of the weight of off his shoulders, he sits him down for talks when he's overwhelmed by everything with the infirmary, and his dad and the new campers, because he gives a fuck. He may be brash and a bit of a dick, but he isn't going to let another child be traumatised the way that he was, and he's going to try his hardest to keep these kids stable, he might not get your name right (because he has to *try* to distance himself or he will fall apart because he can't watch another child he cares about die) but he will talk you through a panic attack, give you a drink and he will make sure that nobody pressures you to act like a human again until you feel ready.

[potato-an0n]

Wanna hear a really sweet solangelo headcanon?

So, I have a Will headcanon that he’s an adventure time, steven universe, gravity falls, svtfoe, infinity train, the owl house, and basically cartoon fandom bisexual nerd (along with sci fi and detective/ mystery thriller but tht’s besides the point).

One of his first songs he learned on ukulele and guitar are songs from adventure time and steven universe but his fav to play when he’s stressed or “stimming” is the Island Song (or come along with me/ adventure time end credits).

Before they started dating, Nico one day was having a panic/ anxiety attack or was just overstimulated and stressed and spotted Will under a secluded tree or in the strawberry fields (idk) playing the Island Song. He was listening from afar and surprisingly, he felt calmer and at ease.

Now whenever Nico has a nightmare or is overstimulated, Will would sing or hum the Island Song. Sometimes Nico would get lulled to sleep or would quietly sing along with him.

Bonus ramble: Also, Island Song is the easiest song to learn on ukulele and guitar, tht’s why imo, it’s a good “stimming song” and the lyrics is really sweet in this scenario too 😭 like it’s such a simple song yet has a lot of depth to it too, okay I’m done rambling.

[lucielmars]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Nico di Angelo/Percy Jackson Characters: Nico di Angelo, Percy Jackson Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, fight, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Trauma, I don't like this ship but gods the drama, Internalized Homophobia, Period-Typical Homophobia Series: Part 2 of I'm sorry, the gods never loved you darling Summary:

“So what do you want ?” Nico asks again, quietly. There is no use in getting angry at him, Percy only consents to conflict with those who betray him and Nico. Ah. Nico can’t even entertain the thought.

The older man leans on the aisle. Nico notices a new scar that goes from his chin to his ear, someone had tried to slit his throat and failed. Or they’d succeeded but Percy healed too fast.

“The gods have sent something to kill you,” he announces.

Nico feels a sharp pain in his chest. He knew that could happen, that if he refused to be on their side the gods would not take the risk. He and Percy are the last living Big Three children after all.

[a-whisper-in-the-closet]

Blame @xinhua-jun for me posting this. But, like. Just listen for a sec. Hear me out.

Annabeth is cat love

Nico is dog love

Annabeth would never back down or change her life for anyone. The fact she accepts a person into her life is it. That is the final form of trust she can give. That is her sincerest love. The ability to help and the chance to understand is her utmost affection. She can leave whenever she pleases and will do so if she finds anything displeasing. That is the deal. Both parties have to be happy with all of it, or at least content, or she'll leave for the both of them

Nico would follow someone to the end and beyond. He would eat them. He would keep them. He would take scraps if it meant being fed by his love. He would doggedly, stubbornly follow because devotion is his love language. He would not care how corrupt a path him and his love take, as long as they are safe. His love can be used as teeth. He would tear throats out at a word, and he would feel only happy that his love is now safer. He would end the world just to make sure everything was okay for what is his.

It's not kitty love or puppy love, to be clear. They're both too violent and jaded. It's a dog and a cat. There is nothing romantic about it, only the tragedy and pain of children learning what it means to have nothing and be even less.

[chemistryandcoffee]

HoO Characters Studying for a Test

Annabeth: Already knows she's going to top her class

Jason: Makes a structured timetable and tries to follow it

Nico: Hires ghosts to tutor him

Hazel: Is studying for the wrong test

Frank: Becomes an elephant so he can memorize stuff

Piper: Makes pretty notes, but half of them are wrong

Leo: Doesn't know about the test

Reyna: Gives up after a while, because (y=mx+b) didn't kill Orion anyway

Percy: Stu(dying)

[alilikescocopuffs]

Go read my new fic! its about nico and bianca being raised in the underworld and how that impacts the war with kronos. i will try to update weekly!

[izumiijeevas]

Nico; a brief study on grief and abandonment.

⚠️If you’re so biased toward Bianca, don’t read⚠️

We’re a week away from tsats release, so I wanted to do a brief character study about Nico and his worst battles (occasionally worsted than battle gods, titans, and primordial deities). Be aware that I’ll don’t sugarcoat anything, and yes, I’m talking about Bianca, Jason, and Reyna (briefly Percy). I love them all, but that doesn’t mean they didn’t have some harmful impact on Nico’s life by THEIR CHOICES. Be aware of this before reading.

Nico is maybe the demigod with the worst case of abandonment issues out there (and there’s Annabeth). Our first encounter with Nico was this sunny, cute dork just to Uncle Rick, turning him into the little murder shadowy boy he’s now, but you take a moment to think about how the fuck it happened.

A few days ago, I saw this post that jokes about Bianca abandoning Nico. A few people lash at the one who posts, yelling at them just for literally taking quotes from Titan’s curse and using the meme template of a boy making a peace sign and banishing. People comment that Bianca doesn’t abandon Nico, how she wants to have a life out of her and Nico, and how valid she is for it. Someone goes as far as bring up their experience being the parent sibling and how exhausting it was to be so. Okay, valid points for y’all, but this affects Nico and his future relationships.

When all Artemis's shit happened, Artemis allowed Percy to come with her while [Artemis] was planning to ask Bianca to join the hunt. Grover and Nico weren’t allowed to follow them (using the lack of Nico’s knowledge about Greek mythology so Grover could tell some things). Bianca, without talking to Nico, takes the oath to Artemis while a chapter before just 13 pages before; Bianca tells Percy, Nico, and Dr. Thorn that they only have each other and no one else. Besides the fact Artemis and Zoe brainwashed their hunters to join them, Percy tries to tell Bianca to think it through before choosing. Percy could be seen as an early big brother (since Tyson), and yeah, Percy could be a little older than Bianca (just for one year). Still, he knows how this will be affected Nico (bless Sally for Percy being one of the few demigods with emotional intelligence, sorry but NO, Annabeth could be a genius, but her emotional intelligence is lower than Percy’s) in a wrong way.

It took Bianca 10 chapters to understand how her choice could affect Nico and decide to grab/steal a figurine to make amends with Nico (we all know how well that worked). Then BIANCA CHOOSE gave up her life to save everyone else. She was a hero, the biggest kind of a hero; she gave up her life to save her friends (even if she was the one that put them in danger). After Bianca’s death, Nico changes; not only did he lose forever (or at least at that time he thought this) the only person he loves the most in the world, but Nico realized he fell in love with Percy, that Nico noticed when even if he yells he hates Percy and wish Percy were the one who dies instead of Bianca he didn’t let any harm to come near Percy.

Then Nico learns his parentage and thinks maybe he could see Bianca one more time, but even if Nico calls and pleas she never shows up for Nico, an 11 yo boy this was his sister abandoned him again (for Nico, it doesn’t matter the reasons good or bad this was Bianca avoiding him). I mentioned before Bianca ended up knowing SHE WAS THE ONE WHO HURTS NICO, but as before, she couldn’t confront Nico, so she doesn’t answer the call, at least until Percy call.

At this point, Nico only knows his sister abandoned him two times before by choosing the hunt and now choosing not to answer him (even at first she didn't acknowledge Nico). In this dialogue, Bianca is rude to him; she forces Nico to face his feelings, and no, I’m not talking about his crush on Percy but his anger towards his sister. Nico was a boy from Italy in the ’40s. If you don’t know a thing about Italy over those years, this is something I could tell you family was important, the most essential and integral part of the being, and Bianca is forcing Nico to hate her to be mad at her BECAUSE IT WAS BIANCA CHOICE TO HURT HIM and this shit hurt Nico. We all mention Cupid being a piece of shit for forcing Nico to come out. Still, here Bianca do the same, forcing Nico to accept those feelings (that Nico absolutely is feeling but can’t accept by his beliefs and his love for Bianca). At this point, Nico forgave every abandonment (the three times Bianca left him behind and when Percy chose not to look at him at the end of Titan’s curse), and it won’t be the last time for him to accept people to leave him behind.

While Nico is looking for a way to help Percy, he also looks for his mom because nobody tells anything about his mother to him, even though it was until he tries to summon Maria gosht that Bianca allows herself to show in front of Nico to tell him to stop searching for his mother. Now this is another time we know Nico saw his sister; even if Nico spent a while in Hades kingdom, he just saw his sister until he tried to summon Maria. Actually, this is the only time he yells at Bianca.

Nico's grief and abandonment are so intertwined as one that he is grieving Bianca at the same time to understand why she could leave him behind quickly but trying never to blame her. Then the doors open, and he tries to seek Bianca and bring her to life to learn she decided to be reborn and finally left him behind alone. By choosing reborn, Bianca decides to lose her memories of everything, including Nico. Even if somehow Nico founds Bianca’s soul, she would never recognize him.

HOO brings Nico more relationships, not just he finally talks with Percy about his feelings and behaviors (that I want to read more about besides that little talk they had). He gained two sisters, a boyfriend, and a best friend, just to lose almost everything. Jason was the first one to tell Nico to risk and trust someone while he also made Nico stay in Camp half-blood (a place where Nico never felt safe or at home), partially telling him he wanted Nico to stay with him there only to choose left and go to school at the end of summer. Reyna, who acknowledged/addressed him as family, someone Nico trusts at the point of sharing intimate memories with and starts to see as a big sister, chooses to join the hunter (the ones who were practically part to blame in Bianca’s death). People who told him to trust left him behind the same way his sitter, who’s supposed to love him unconditionally, and yet chose other people rather than him. What’s so wrong inside Nico that the ones he loved the most decide he isn’t worthy enough? Now I don’t know if Uncle Rick or Mark will address all of this, but when (because we know for sure they will) Will and Nico get separate, I hope they didn’t let Nico go through these thoughts as I implied Nico didn’t handle grief to well, on the other hand, he always forgave people for left him behind I hope they don’t make Will be another love one that does the same to Nico.

I’ll post the last reference as a response to this text.

[himynameis4]

@bottomlessabyssposts hiiiiiiiiiii! I have. So many things to say ab Bianca but I wanted to share at least a lil bit even if i cannt write them all down??? The thing is, like, MOST of it is written down but not necessarily in a way that’s coherent to anyone except me RIP, so i’m going through & looking for snippets that are like. Easiest to understand, y’know? & also with the spot i drew from from canon to arrive at my headcanon—this is sure as shit not “analysis,” exactly, but there’s so much blank space left in the riordanverse (& don’t get me started on rick constantly contradicting his own work—i’m obsessed w/canon compliance or at least canon adjacency so he drives me BATSHIT bc his stuff DOES NOT MAKE SENSE IN THE UNIVERSE HE MADE—)

(Also! Hi @chiquitablanquita! We haven’t interacted much yet but i figure pjo is a shared interest so might as well tag you in this??? 🤷. Still getting the hang of tumblr friends/etiquette/mutual-ship lol. This is a no-pressure tagging zone!!!)

Okay. Bianca. I adore her sm. I’ll have to make a series of posts ab her probably to write all my di Angelo headcanon stuff down but I figure—I’m not sure if i should start w/her in Tartarus, her pre-the books, or my headcanon for what happened to Maria that’s soon to be jossed RIP.

I think i’ll start post-move to america, Maria’s death & casino era, & not delve into pre-move to america headcanons just yet? Yeah, that makes sense. Might dip my toe into headcanons for her powers/potential powers tho!

First thing you have to know, i think? Bianca’s fatal flaw is holding grudges. Bianca’s—not Nico’s. Obviously that’s not what killed Bianca in the end… (except, it kind of is. Running from that parent of herself, acting in accordance with it… except that wasn’t the only factor influencing her). So many think her flaw relates to responsibility, accepting it, evading it, etc. But Bianca herself feels her fatal flaw—or at least, one of her major flaws—is holding grudges. Being resentful. Being resentful of her brother, specifically.

She loves Nico. She loves him so, so much. He’s her world. And she hates him. No, wait, of course she doesn’t hate him—he’s her little brother, and she loves him, and it’s not like he’s doing anything wrong, it’s just—it’s the little things. (This bit draws a bit from the preview—just that Bianca & Nico shared a bed in the Lotus Casino according to Nico’s nightmare/memory dream sequence, which tracks for me in terms of sibling dynamics). He’s just… he doesn’t get it. How dangerous things are. She protects him from it. And he’s always around, always needing her, wanting to her play his game and help him with homework and hold his hand and—she never gets a moment to breathe. To bond with her classmates, not that she’d been making much headway on that, anyway.

She resents him for getting to be young and innocent and letting her worry about the big stuff and depending on her and following her rules and not following her rules. She tells him not to go watching the pg-13 movies and he’ll listen, mostly—but how are you supposed to parent a kid through making friends? How are you supposed to parent, period?! She knows she snaps at him too much, lashing out—she knows she’s not what he needs, and she feels guilty as hell for it, but also resents the hell out of him for putting her on the pedestal, shoving her in this role. Then she hates herself for resenting him, he’s only ten, and she loves him, he doesn’t deserve this, doesn’t deserve her, and all her messy, frustrated love, but she doesn’t want this role. She doesn’t want to be a mother. She’s only 12. And there’s no one to talk to, it’s only him, and he can’t listen to her cry or he won’t listen to her, she needs to be the adult for him, their teachers are next to useless.

It’s worse when he tries to help, not better. When he’s sweet and protective and gives her space…. Because then she’s angry at him for not being able to be enough, to be all she needs, because she doesn’t have anyone else either, and he doesn’t even give her the chance to find others, clinging to her like—like a goddamn boa constrictor. And then she hates herself for putting him in that position, of having to take care of her—she’s the big sister, and he’s so little, and he needs her, and then she’s back to resenting him again, and it makes her want to scream. (Or rather, to run.)

Nico’s different. She knows it. She watches his cheeks bleed red, regaling her of conversation after conversation with a boy in his grade (she’s seen them together. The boy doesn’t seem interested in talking to Nico, but is too shy to tell him so. Her heart breaks for her brother, even as she empathizes with the other boy, but all of it is so… numb. Detached. So she listens and nods and doesn’t say a word). She’s not sure if he knows, if he remembers… but she does. And she doesn’t know how to protect him. She doesn’t know how to help him. Is loving him enough? Can it be? When it’s her messy kind of love, cutting and protective and distant at once?

She ignores him, sometimes. He’ll be having a bad day, or a hard day, or a restless night, or a violent one—it’s written over his face, every time, he’s always been so easy to read (for her, at least). A coiled ball of energy and rage and fear and pain, unable to process it, any of it (is it because she hasn’t taught him how? (How could she, when she’s barely learned herself?)). He lashes out at her, too, you know, for all she lashes out at him, for all he’s young and innocent and sweet and doesn’t understand—she lets him rage and lets him storm off and lets him cry and doesn’t feel a thing. Or—feels dull, dreary, waiting it out like a thunderstorm as opposed to reaching out, asking what’s wrong, asking how to help.

She’s not sure if this makes her an awful person or not. Does she not care? He’s her brother, her world, he’s hurting, and she just—

But it’s also a matter of survival, she knows. Nico feels things, and they fill up a room, they don’t leave space for anything or anyone else. Numbing herself to it is how she gets through, how she can stay calm, talk him down from it… on the days she talks him down from it. But she can’t afford anything else, or else he’d fill her up inside, and she’s have no room left for her.

She needs to be selfish to survive. If she doesn’t survive… she doesn’t know what happens to him, if she doesn’t survive. Her messy, selfish, flawed love is all he has, the shield between him and the rest of the world. So she lets herself be selfish, for her own sake, for his. And she tries to make it to the other side.

[thebhorror]

Summary: Nico thinks about what he wants. There’s a lot he craves. He wants a home, and a family. He desires friends, and food, and laughter. He would kill to sleep comfortably and have good dreams and to not have to worry. And, whenever he thinks about this, all the things he wants all circle back to one thing.

Nico wants love.

or, five times Nico yearned for something (and one time he got it)

[mediumgayitalian]

“Hide me hide me hide me hide me hide me.”

Nico blinks, watching blankly as Will ducks under his arm, situating himself behind the door and peeking around it. When Nico doesn’t move, he cranes his neck to look at him, face urgent, and says, “Close it, dude, hurry up!

“Solace!”

“Fuck,” Will curses.

Nico blinks again. He squints across the common, trying to suss out what Will’s staring at. It doesn’t take long. She’s hard to miss, especially in full armour.

“Are you…hiding from Clarisse?”

“Am I hiding from —” He scoffs. “No, I’m just behind this door for fun. Fucking obviously I’m hiding from Clarisse, Nico, now get with the program and close the damn —”

“Solace!”

Both of them jump. When Nico looks, Clarisse is already way closer than she should be. Before he can process enough to slam the door, and heedless of Will’s increasingly-harried oh my gods oh my gods oh my gods fuck fuck fuck fuck, Clarisse is closer, and closer, and then suddenly she’s barging inside, pushing Nico aside like it’s not his damn cabin.

Will groans. “Aw, come on, Clarisse!”

She doesn’t bother to humour him with words, choosing instead to grab him by the collar and drag him bodily out. Will does not make it easy, going completely limp and getting his clothes grass-stained beyond belief, because Clarisse tugs him along like a sled behind her, bouncing over every stone. Nico follows, on the grounds that it’s not being nosy if Will dragged him into it technically.

“You have siblings! You have a boyfriend!”

“And yet I’m choosing you,” Clarisse says easily. “I’ve already told Chiron. It’s a done deal, weatherboy. You’re chariot racing with me.”

Will groans, trying in vain to squirm out of Clarisse’s grip. “There is no reason for me to be your partner in the stupid chariot race, I am a healer, I am at camp to heal —”

She shakes him a little to shut him up. “All the more reason. You focus too much on one thing, brat. All you do is heal and study like a big nerd. You need to get out of your comfort zone.”

“Um, no way. I’m very comfortable in it. That’s why it’s called a comfort zone.”

“You could use some training,” Nico pipes up, and the betrayed look Will gives him would be more effective at making him feel bad if it wasn’t so funny. “Last time I tried to teach you how to use a sword you almost sliced off your own face, so.”

Clarisse looks at him with appraisal. “Maybe you do have some sense in you, di Angelo.”

Nico chooses to take that as the compliment it is.

“Ugh,” Will says dramatically, and finally manages to wrench out of Clarisse’s grip in order to embed the appropriate level of drama in his face-down flop to the floor.

Clarisse kicks him. “You’re pathetic.”

“Ugh.”

Notably, he stops protesting. She kicks him again, affectionately this time, and stomps away.

———

“If I work myself into another coma, I don’t have to chariot race,” Will says gleefully, shoving the bottles of nectar Nico hands him onto a shelf. He’s been buzzing around the infirmary all day, healing things he is meant to be healing with a band-aid and a stop being a clumsy dumbass, dumbass with hymns and salves. “I’m gonna try to cure cancer again.”

Kayla, walking by, reaches out and smacks him. “Try it and I’m crack your country CDs in half.”

Will turns to her, opening his mouth —

“Every single one of them,” she stresses, green eyes narrowed.

— and closes it again, huffing.

“I’ll find a way,” he says glumly.

Nico pats him delicately on the back. “There, there.” A pause. “I mean, personally, I can’t wait to watch you fall out of a chariot.”

The look Will shoots him is nothing short of wounded. “You think I’m so uncoordinated I’m gonna fall out of the chariot?”

“Gracefully!” assures Austin from across the infirmary, smiling supportively. He grins brightly when they turn to look, nose scrunching with the force of his smile. “I’m sure!”

Will’s scowl twitches in the face of his brother’s blind enthusiasm. (It is impossible not to be endeared by Austin. He is genuinely the sweetest kid in the entire universe. Nico even gets, to his horror, the occasional urge to squish him. Gently.) He sighs.

“Thanks, Austin.”

“Of course! Love you Will!”

The twitching scowl melts into a full smile. “Love you too, kiddo.”

———

Watching chariot race practices, very quickly, becomes Nico’s favourite pastime.

He sees, now, why Achilles would bring them up, unprompted, wistful look in his eye, every time Nico visited. There’s a beauty in the rawness of it; the whipping winds, wild horses. Squealing wheels and bending axels, open-backed and inches from death at all time. Dangerous, exhilarating. Humanity, at it’s most thrilling and old — some of the first tools, the first domestic animals, the first machines, all at once. It’s pure, raw excitement.

Also, Will falls out of the chariot, like, eight whole times. And there’s nothing funnier than watching him lose his shit at a splintered pile of wood that was once a carriage, helmet thrown to the ground in a fit of rage, accent so thick he’s literally incomprehensible. Nico never gets to see him like this. His stomach actually hurts from laughter on several occasions.

Slowly, though, he starts to get the hang of it. He’s smart — incredibly so — and when he stops spending half his time complaining, and the other half pouting, he actually gets pretty decent. He’s fast, after all, and quick to observe, to respond; the other teams struggle to land hits on him, in practice runs, and sabotage is difficult when your opponent seems to have an almost prophetic gift to see things coming.

He can’t, however, steel himself to hit back.

And therein lies the trouble.

“For fuck’s sake, Will, I’m not asking you to kill anybody,” Clarrise snaps. “You need to get your head in the game!”

Will’s shoulders curl defensively. “I know! I’m trying! It’s just —” He kicks at their broken wheel, in two clean pieces on the ground. “Do no harm.”

“Do some harm. Or I’m gonna kick your ass.”

Will brightens. “And then ask somebody else to be your partner?”

“No, and then make you my partner forever.”

“Oh.”

Will’s sullen face is hard to look at. He’s got those big, puppy dog eyes, round and sad and pouty. Not even Clarisse is immune. (And certainly not Nico, who finds himself halfway off the spectator’s stands and jogging to the tracks before he wonders what exactly, the fresh fuck, he is doing, and sprints right back.)

“Shit, Solace, don’t look like I killed your goddamn mother.” She cuffs him on the shoulder, sending him sprawling with a muffled oof. “We’ll figure it out. Let’s go again.”

Accepting the spare chariot someone wheels towards her, she pulls herself up, making space for Will to do the same. He doesn’t get on immediately, still looking miserable, but concedes eventually.

His forearms look kind of nice when he grips onto the rails for dear life, Nico notices. From a totally objective perspective.

The four practicing teams guide their horses to the starting line, running a few last minute checks. To avoid spilling any secrets or strategies, everyone uses the same practice-issue wooden chariot and wears the same armour, but it’s still obvious who’s who.

The Hephaestus team’s chariot, despite being standard issue, gleams like it’s brand-new. The wood is polished and looks to be altered, barely; a carved groove here, a sharper wing there. Nothing that could really be considered an upgrade, but definitely making the whole thing look smoother. The spears they hold promise a plethora of untold ability hidden within.

The Hermes chariot looks deceptively beat up. There’s a chunk missing from the top of the left side, and one of the wheels appears to be just slightly out of alignment. Upon careful inspection, though, Nico can see clear, hollow tubing attached along the rails and open to the back — definitely a quick rig of some sort. Base (not acid, Cecil had happily lectured him on the benefits of using a base rather than an acid when dissolving anything from steel to human flesh), if Nico has to guess, or maybe Greek fire.

The Aphrodite-Iris chariot doesn’t have to do much to look great. The whole thing seems to coast gracefully to the beginner line, and neither charioteer looks particularly bothered or preoccupied with the competition — if Nico recalls correctly, and he does, their goal is to win through “gay audacity”, which Nico does not understand but supports wholeheartedly.

Will and Clarisse’s chariot, by comparison, is pretty run-of-the-mill. They haven’t done much training with the Ares horses or the Apollo flying chariot, because Clarisse is primarily concerned with training Will — she knows the equipment is fine.

Lacy, standing at the edge of the track, puts a sparkly pink whistle to her lips and blows loudly. It’s not nearly as loud as one of Will’s sonic whistles, but it does the trick, and the teams are off in a blur of movement; Will and Clarisse in the lead, Hephaestus behind them, Aphrodite-Iris in third, and Hermes lagging slightly behind.

As they turn their first corner, positions largely unchanging, Nico hears footsteps from his left — Lou Ellen smiles at him as she climbs the stand, settling into the space he makes next to him.

“What’d I miss?” she asks, brushing dust off her hands.

He shrugs. “Not much. They were in the lead the last practice round, too, but on the last lap Hermes caught up.” He gestures to the heap that was once their practice chariot. “Julia had her sword at their wheels. They were on the inner ring, nowhere to move; the only way to get rid of them would have been to knock her arm, probably dislocate her shoulder. Will couldn’t do it.”

Lou Ellen winces. “Ah.”

There’s a ripping sound, followed by cackling — the Hermes chariot has finally made use of their hasty rigging, setting off an explosion behind them that rockets them forward. It has the added bonus of shaking the ground, slightly, unsettling the other drivers for just barely long enough for them to pull into third place. Far ahead, still in first, Nico can see Clarisse yelling instructions at Will, although he can’t hear what they are. His grip on the rail has tightened.

“Why,” starts Nico carefully, and based on Lou Ellen’s pinched face she knows exactly where he’s going, “does she make him — well, you know.”

Lou Ellen is silent for a good long while, watching the practice chariot race with eyes that aren’t paying attention. Hermes is gaining, but Hephaestus is gaining faster.

“Clarisse has always liked Will,” she says eventually. She meets Nico’s incredulous expression, snorting. “Well, as much as Clarisse can like people. I got here way after he did, so I don’t have any more details there than you do, but he’s never been afraid of her, and she likes that. He’s never been mean to her, either. I mean, I know she can be a bully, but people aren’t exactly light on her, to be fair.”

The Aphrodite-Iris chariot turns out to have some tricks up its sleeve — it starts to glow; barely at first, but quickly blinding. At its crux, everyone has to look away, allowing them to pull into first.

Well, except that Will doesn’t seem nearly as staggered as everyone else. In fact, he doesn’t look bothered at all — for the first time that Nico has seen, there’s something like competition pulling a crooked smile on his face. He stares straight at the still-too-bright chariot, reigns wrapped around his arms as he yanks them forward.

“Is that why she drags him away sometimes?” Nico asks. “To train?”

“Something like that. Most of his training was with —” she falters. “Well, you know who. Medicine and some archery.”

They’re both quiet for a while. Neither of them ever knew Lee or Michael well, if at all, but over time Nico has found himself almost clamming up at the mere thought of them, the way one might tiptoe around an authority figure when they have something to hide. Forbidden subjects, where before Nico simply didn’t think of them often.

“You can’t just not train, though,” Lou Ellen murmurs, eyes trained on the chariots. Hephaestus throws one of their spears, lodging it in the spokes of the Aphrodite-Iris chariot. They come to a very abrupt and very screechy halt, knocking them out of the race in any real capacity. “Not at Camp Half-Blood. She taught him hand-to-hand because she was the only one strong enough to physically drag him to the arena. Everyone else gave up after the first few tantrums — I think she was kind of amused by the challenge. Or something.”

“Or something,” Nico agrees. Privately, he thinks that there is something about Will Solace that makes you want to protect him. Not frailty — he is not by any means incapable — but something about his smile, his genuineness. The stubborn belief that people are good and kind and worthy of everything he has to give. A naivety, except someone who’s been through what he has (what they all have) cannot be naive — his hope in the world is hard-earned and well-won. It makes people want to protect his hold on it, by any means necessary.

Even, Nico reasons, ornery old fuckers like Clarisse LaRue.

The three remaining chariots start the last leg of the race — Apollo-Ares, barely squeezing out in front; then Hephaestus, quickly gaining; and finally Hermes, lagging slightly but not to be discarded. As they round the bend, Nico watches as Clarisse cuffs Will briefly on the arm, clearly proud. This is the farthest they’ve made in first so far, after two weeks of training. Will, reigns safely transferred back to Clarisse, beams at her — bright enough that Nico can see it from dozens of yards away.

With sudden, calculated speed, the Hephaestus chariot surges forward.

As if coordinated, Nico and Lou Ellen inhale sharply, leaning forward. He sees the scattered few other campers so the same in his peripherals, watching with single minded focus as the chariot levels exactly with Will and Clarisse. Nico eyes the spear nervously — of all weapons, they’re the easiest for Will to dodge, to fight off. More impersonal.

But the sons of the smartest god around would know that.

For at least a hundred feet, nothing happens. Ares-Apollo and Hephaestus stay neck in neck, every urge forward matched, every pesky road-blocking stone avoided. The finish line is dangerously close, but no one pulls ahead, nothing changes. Four shoulders remain tense, four helmets stare resolutely forward.

Then, in a quick movement, the taller Hephaestus charioteer hands the spear off to the shorter, swiftly taking the reigns, and the shorter lunges — aiming right for Will’s shoulder. Will’s quick, though, and has his own spear poised to parry in an instant. There’s a barely perceptible nudge from Clarisse, and then Will’s eyes harden, and he lifts his spear to jab right back, needle-thin tip gleaming in the late afternoon sun, right for the chink in the charioteer’s armour and then —

The charioteer rips their helmet off, dropping it at their feet.

It’s Harley.

Hephaestus’ darling; hell, the camp’s darling. One of their youngest and brightest, with big, mischievous brown eyes, contagious smiles, endless enthusiasm. Cute, clumsy Harley, the only one of Hephaestus’ children Will doesn’t have to nag to get treated, who walks dutifully over the infirmary every time he gets so much as a second-degree burn and treats each one of Will’s overcautious instructions with utmost seriousness. Who Will sends away each time with an affectionate kiss on the forehead and a prized purple sucker — who Will, frankly, favours. Who Will would never, in a million years, even consider hurting.

A dirty trick by the Hephaestus cabin.

But an effective one.

Immediately, Will flinches back, spear dropping from his hand and splintering under thundering hooves and spinning wheels. Without a second of hesitation, Harley launches his spear in the same move as before — sticking it in the wheel’s spokes, inertia sending the charioteer’s sprawling, knocking them out of the race.

Except, maybe it’s different when the chariots are so close. Or maybe the chariot was faulty to begin with. Because as soon as the spear gets wedged, the fragile floor of the chariot seems to implode — sending Will and Clarisse under the still-moving machine, instead of flying over. The horses, disoriented from the sudden change, rip free of their harness, adding more force to the already precarious tumble.

There’s a sharp, sickening crack, so loud Nico can hear it as if it’s next to him. In the brief nanosecond immediately afterwords, he closes his eyes, sending a prayer to his father: please be the axle. Please be the axle. Please be the axle.

As the Hephaestus and Hermes chariots rocket past the finish line, Clarisse lets out a shrill, blood-curdling scream.

———

Nico’s off the bench and halfway towards the crashed chariot before he can blink. He’s not the only one — he processes, barely, everyone else’s quick convergence, including the remaining charioteers — but he’s there first, diving into the wreckage seconds before anyone else is close enough.

There’s not a lot of actual debris, chariots being as small as they are, but the dust cloud from the track is so huge and the pieces of wood are so splintered that it feels like there is. As the dust settles, and he kicks some debris out of the way, he starts to see the shape of Will, kneeling, in front of a prone Clarisse and an ever-growing pool of blood.

There’s a bone sticking straight out of her thigh.

As the rest of the campers converge upon them, Will looks up and meets Nico’s eyes. His own blue eyes are dark, steely — determined, but afraid.

“I don’t have time,” is the only thing out of his mouth before he braces both hands on Clarisse’s leg, immediately starting to sing urgent hymns.

Nico understands.

“Lou, Julia, Chiara,” he barks, taking charge in absence of Will’s voice. The three girls snap forward to him immediately. “Sprint the the infirmary and tell them what happened. Austin’s on duty — make sure he doesn’t come with you, we need him to prep a surgical suite. Send everyone else and send them fast. Bring a stretcher.”

He turns to the Hephaestus kids. “Jake, Harley, start clearing the debris to make space. Damien, join them; move the big stuff first, small stuff is secondary. We need a space for Will to work and a space to lay the stretcher. Jen, Butch, Lacy —”

He barks off a list of orders, doing his best to channel the commands he’s watched Will give dozens and dozens of times. In minutes, he has the track cleared, Will’s medical bag dragged over from the stands, and everyone who is not helping stabilize out to the infirmary to help as needed.

As soon as there’s an opening, he rushes over to Will and Clarisse, kneeling by her head.

“Help is coming,” he promises, watching the glow dim and flicker in time with the rhythm of Will’s chanting. The bleeding has slowed, marginally, but he can tell from the volume of blood alone that this was an arterial hit. It’s going to take more than Will’s raw healing power, although there is a lot of it, to keep Clarisse alive and keep her leg functioning in recovery. He needs tools, he needs nectar and ambrosia; he needs the surgery suite. He needs time.

“Is it helpful for me to knock her out?”

Clarisse, of course, is still conscious. Barely — and in so much pain Nico will be surprised if she’s processing anything at all — but enough that every few seconds she lets out an agonised shout of pain, writhing and flinching so hard Will has to focus on steadying her as much as healing her.

Without breaking his song, eyes still trained on the injury, Will nods. Nico breathes, squaring his shoulders, then shuffled forward to rest Clarisse’s head gently in his lap, fingers pressed to her temples. He presses, hard enough to feel the beat of her heart — weak — through his fingertips, and squeezes his eyes shut.

He’s no son of Hypnos, but dreams are the Underworld’s domain. Are his domain, as heir and prince of the Underworld, in every way that matters, that can be counted.

He lets himself sink into careful limbo; body in physical space, mind and soul elsewhere. Not too much — he’s no use if he falls unconscious — but enough to slip into Clarisse’s mindscape, step into her subconscious.

The whole place bleeds white, hot anguish.

Nico stumbles when he first walks in, nauseous despite being nothing but his own mind. It’s been a while since he’s experienced this kind of pain, his own or not, and he has to consciously beat back memories of brimstone and rot; liquid fire, endless red, red, red.

“Clarisse?” he calls, softly as he dares.

She doesn’t respond. He’s not sure she knows how to respond, even if she could. Cautious of the memory and emotion swirling around him, he steps forward. If he focuses, her anguish is pointed — is central. She will be at the centre of it.

He has volunteered, but he’s not sure he wants to follow.

Steeling himself, he shoulders through swirling masses of pain, of hurt, of fear. It’s blisteringly hot, and feels not unlike the sandstorm he was once stranded within, in the middle of the New Mexico desert four years ago. His face prickles; he’s blinded.

He trudges forward.

“Clarisse? Clarisse! Can you hear me? It’s Nico!”

Desperately and uselessly, he wishes he had more practice. Will has offered, the few times he’s needed to anaesthetize someone, but for the most time Nico has foolishly declined. Why on Earth he would pass up a much easier mindscape to navigate through in preparation for something like this is a mystery to him. Fuck.

“Clarisse! Try to — focus on me, can you hear me?”

He forces himself forward, a few more — well, there’s no distance in a mindscape, nothing measurable, anyway. He forces himself to look up, braving the assault to his face, and try to scan his surroundings. The swirling mass is more centralized, now, almost hurricane-like and conal. He’s closer than he was before, but if he can only find…

He looks up, and almost cries in relief: weak against the roaring storm, but still present, is a flickering, golden light. A very familiar light. Nico squeezes his eyes shut, thrusting out his own energy in an uncoordinated mass — boy, is that going to be uncomfortable to extract later — and flails wildly until he finally feels the warmth of Will’s energy entangling with his own, grounding him. He opens his eyes, and suddenly everything is clearer.

Clarisse kneels in the centre of her mindscape, hands pressed tightly to her ears, eyes screwed shut, mouth open in a silent scream.

“Hey,” Nico murmurs, kneeling in front of her. It takes a few seconds, and a few moments of gentle coaxing, before she looks up.

“It hurts,” she croaks.

She’s more vulnerable than he’s ever seen her — eyes brown and big and wet, pained, face twisted and chin trembling and achingly, unbelievably young. She is nineteen years old, but in that moment she appears almost childlike. The years of warrior’s hardness has abandoned her; she is armourless.

Nico swallows the lump in his throat. “I know.”

“Help me. Please.”

“Come here, Clarisse.” He reaches out and wraps a gentle hand around hers, tugging her close. The knee jerk discomfort at close contact is barely a flicker — he is so entwined in her right now that her fear has started to bleed into his; her rawness. He needs this comfort almost as much as she does. Right now she is a person, in agony, and so is he, and it is unbearable.

He holds her until the pain slowly stops.

———

Will is in the surgical suite for seven straight hours.

“Bed,” Nico says softly, rising up to meet him as he exits. It says something about how exhausted he is that he doesn’t even protest, letting Nico place a hand on the small of his back and guide him past the on-call room, past the patient cots, past the Big House living room couches, past Cabin 7. He leads him across the common and right into Cabin 13, with its double beds and blackout curtains, with its insulated, soundproof walls. With Nico.

He helps him out of his bloodstained scrubs, peeling them off his skin and tossing them directly into a trash can. He’d guide him to the shower, usually, but there’s a — glassiness, to his eyes, that there usually isn’t after surgery. Nico chooses instead to skip it, guiding him into the sweatpants he left behind the last time he was here and an oversized The Doors t-shirt of Nico’s, and then to the spare bed he always uses, across from Nico’s. He peels the covers back for him like he’s a child, tucking him in, brushing the hair out of his eyes. He’s asleep in minutes, curled tightly around a pillow, furrowed crease not leaving the space between his eyebrows, even in sleep. Nico smooths it away with his thumb.

“Goodnight, Will,” he murmurs, brushing the backs of his knuckles across his forehead.

He watches him sleep far past what is normal, and then slips back out of the cabin.

———

“On the bright side,” Will says, squeezing the hand that has left to leave Clarisse’s arm, “you’re free from your chariot race obligation! As am I!”

Predictably, she only glowers.

“Not a chance, Solace,” she rasps.

Will helpfully gets her a glass of water, fussing over her blankets while she drinks until she bats him away. Chris watches the whole thing with great amusement, shoulders brushing Nico’s.

“He’s a mother hen, isn’t he,” he comments, tilting his head in Will’s direction, who narrowly avoids having his fingers bitten off trying to feed her a square of ambrosia.

Nico snorts. “Yeah.” He watches the fussing for a few more seconds, making note of Will’s shaking hands, his shakier smile. “He’s guilty.”

“He didn’t do anything. She doesn’t blame him.”

Nico meets his dark look, mouth twisted in understanding. They both know this logic is futile.

“Yeah, well, someone tell him that.”

“Will — stop it.” In a startlingly quick move for someone on as much morphine as she is, Clarisse darts out and clutches Will’s fluttering hands. He hesitates, wondering if it’s worth it to pull out of her hold and possibly jostle her leg. “I’m fine. And you’re still charioting.”

“You’re not fine,” Will frowns, conveniently ignoring the part of the sentence he doesn’t want to deal with. “Your femur snapped in half and tore through your femoral artery on its way out of your leg. You’re going to be on bedrest for a week at least, and it’ll be tender for a good long while besides. That’s what we in the medical business call a Big Fucking Deal.”

She tightens her hold, staring at him until he finally meets her eyes.

“Will.” She narrows her eyes. “You are still participating in the chariot race. I’m not asking.”

“It’ll have to wait until you’re better,” he says lightly. “Besides, we’re focusing on you right now.”

Nico can see in her face when she decides to switch strategies.

“Okay,” she says, stubborn glean in her eye, “then I’m asking you, as a personal request, to stay in the race. Or else I’ll drag myself onto a goddamn horse myself, killing myself in the process, and that will be on your head.”

The tactic works.

Will scowls. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

Clarisse doesn’t bother repeating herself, letting go of his wrists and readjusting her blankets.

“I am done talking now. I believe it’s time for morphine-induced unconsciousness. Please remember that I took down a drakon with my own bare hands; it is well within my abilities to drag myself out of heroin-haze and onto a chariot with no legs, let alone one. Good talk.”

As soon as the words are out of her mouth, she leans back on her pillows and passes out. Genuinely, actually passes out — not closes her eyes, not behind to fall asleep; she is unconscious. Snores ring through the air.

“Well,” Chris says carefully, unfolding his arms. “It might be time to let Clarisse rest for a while.”

Will, healer that he is, cannot exactly argue with that. Will, drama queen that he is, decides to make his fury known by stomping out of the room, a feat in flip-flips possible by him alone.

“She is so infuriating!” he shouts the second they’re in the main room, startling several people. He either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. “I put effort in! I failed! She can’t even — it’s not even about spending time together, obviously, since I still have to do it! What does she want from me?!”

Chris, like Nico, has wisely decided to let the hypothetical questions remain hypothetical and stay silent, lest his fury be turned onto them. Ten minutes into Will’s rant, Chris excuses himself to go sit by Clarisse. Nico waves him off.

“Will,” Nico suggests the next time he takes a breath, “let’s maybe go for a walk.” He glances at the group of wide-eyed patients. “I think you’re scaring people.”

Deflating, Will nods, following Nico out the door. “Yeah. Yeah, let’s go for a walk.”

The fresh air probably doesn’t fix things, per se, but as they lap around the cabins, Will seems to droop further and further, curling in on himself. The anger recedes from his features.

“I feel really shitty,” he admits softly. “Just, like, generally.”

Nico softens like a goddamn slab of ice cream on hot pavement. For the second time in three days, he opens his arms in offering, although this time it’s significantly less difficult.

“Come here.”

Without even a beat of hesitation, Will collapses into him, arms around his waist, head tucked under his chin. Nico fights the urge to wince — Will, usually, takes quite a bit of pride in his height. He likes to be the one to wrap around people, not the other way around. Nico has been indoctrinated into Will-affection, in the time since the Giant War, and if Will is the one curling into him, seeking comfort, than he is struggling.

Nico hates it when Will struggles. He always feels out of his depth.

“There, there,” he hedges, feeling a good bit like an NPC. “It’ll be okay.”

Will makes a small, wounded noise. “You don’t know that.”

“Um, yes I do, I know everything forever. I’ve never been wrong even one time in my life.”

His awkward attempt at lightening the mood is rewarded by Will’s laugh. It’s slight, and nowhere near the brightness it usually is, but it’s there and it’s genuine and that’s all Nico wanted, really.

“You good?” Nico asks softly, squeezing his arms.

Will nods. “Yes.” He hesitates. “Can I stay here a little longer?”

Nico wraps his arms impossibly tighter, aching at the quiet vulnerability in his voice.

“As long as you need.”

———

The last practice before the chariot race is nowhere near as fun to watch as the others. In fact, it’s not fun at all.

Clarisse, casted and upright, appoints her brother Sherman to race in her place, much to both his and Will’s very vocal complaints. Will’s, because he still doesn’t want to race at all and especially not now that Clarisse is out of the running, and Sherman’s because, well, when isn’t Sherman complaining about having to breathe the same air as someone or whatever.

Clarisse silences both of them with a glare. “Do it,” she orders.

They comply, stomping over to their practice chariot.

The practice race is awful. Nico is surprised, frankly, that they managed to finish at all, as badly behind as they managed. He could practically hear their squabbling all the way from the stands. For as much as Will is generally easy to get along with, he’s impossible when he’s stubborn, and worse when he’s petulant. He takes every command from Sherman like it’s a personal offence, and Sherman, being who he is, does too. Every shout to veer right or deflect an attack somehow sounds like a jab at Will’s speed, or a remark about his general intelligence. When they stomp off the track, helmets thrown in a heap with the rickety chariot, Nico is almost relieved.

“We’re going to lose, tomorrow, and I can’t wait,” hisses Will darkly, fists curled at his sides.

Nico watches him warily. “You’re not even going to try?”

“What, so he can remind me that even when I’m trying I’m a useless idiot? Not a chance.”

Nico has to almost jog to keep up with him, striding as powerfully as he is. He’s not even sure where he’s going — he seems to be, mostly, going away from the track and from Sherman, wherever that may be.

“You’re not a useless idiot,” Nico offers, when some of the stormcloud has lessened its hold on Will’s usually sunny face. “Nobody thinks you’re a useless idiot.”

Will closes his eyes, sighing. “I know.”

“And Sherman is just a generally grouchy person.”

“I know.”

“It feels very, very weird to be the optimistic and comforting one, right now.”

Will snorts, finally meeting his eyes. “I know.” He flops onto the ground, cheek resting in his knees, and pats the space next to him. Nico sits much more delicately. “I’m sorry I’ve been such an asshole lately.”

“You’ve been stressed,” Nico points out. “A little assholery is warranted.”

“I’m still sorry.”

Nico knocks their shoulders together. “I forgive you, then.”

Will smiles. “Thank you.”

For a while they sit in comfortable silence, watching the hustle and bustle of camp. Will’s presence is a comforting one, even though Nico can feel the turmoil leeching off of him. Strangely because of that, actually — sometimes Nico feels like he’s the only one who struggles out of the two of them. Will spends so much of his time smiling and joking and lecturing, hands on his hips, that Nico had almost forgotten that he doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing, either. He’s just good at faking it.

“I’ll be watching, tomorrow.” He bites his lip. “And I won’t, like, bring pom-poms, or anything, but I’ll be cheering you on.”

Will grins tiredly. “Silently and in your head?”

“Uh-huh.”

His smile softens considerably, melting into something almost shy, before he turns back to face forward.

“Well, then, damn. I guess I’ll have to try.”

———

On the morning of the chariot race, Will acts like Nico is escorting him to his goddamn execution.

“It is a race that will last a maximum of twenty minutes,” Nico says with no small amount of exasperation, “including prep time.”

Will looks no less grim. “A twenty minutes that will never be returned to me.”

Nico rolls his eyes and decides to stop humouring him.

He drops him off at his chariot with a quick pat on the shoulder, jogging back to the stands. They’re full, today, as expected, with every camper and countless others cramped into the minimal space. Nico looks at the shoulder-to-shoulder crowd, and is about to consider breaking his promise and fleeing back to his cabin before he sees a doodled-on hand stick in the air, waving wildly. He exhales in relief and heads over to sit in the spot Kayla and Austin have cleared between them.

“How miserable is he?” Kayla asks brightly, tapping her purple shoes. “He left before we woke up this morning. Assumedly to sprint around camp a few times like a feral cat.”

“Pretty miserable,” Nico answers. He reaches over to pat Austin’s head when he rests on his shoulder, knowing he’s nervous even if he tries not to show it. “A lot of it is self-induced, though. Like, yeah, Sherman is going to be a dick and it’s going to be stressful, but I feel like, in the grand scheme of things, this is among the least stressful things he’s ever been forced to deal with.”

“There was that one time he had to remove a brain tumour in the middle of the forest,” Austin muses. “I think that was probably pretty stressful for him.”

Nico opens his mouth. He closes it again.

“Demigod life is a nightmare,” he settles on eventually.

“Hear, hear,” both siblings mutter.

They lapse into silence as they turn back to the racetrack, evaluating the turnout.

Competition will be hefty.

Sherman has finally arrived, Ares horses in tow. The garish things look almost wrong next to the brightness off the flying Apollo chariot, but that may just be the tension between the team’s charioteers that’s so potent it seems to warp the air around them. Nico is vaguely surprised that they’re managing to stand so civilly next to each other, even if they could not be more visibly uncomfortable. Will, at least, tries for a smile, which drops immediately when Sherman mutters something too quiet to be picked up this far.

Nico sighs. This is going to be hard to watch.

There are about twenty other chariots lines up. Hermes, Hephaestus, and Aphrodite-Iris, like at practice, but Athena is competing too, as well as Nike, as per usual, and Tyche. In fact Nico, and by extension Hades, is one of the few cabins not participating — everyone else seems primed and ready for a chance of laurels and extra dessert. And, of course, settling personal rivalries via bloodshed, et cetera, et cetera.

The biggest competition, if Nico had to quantify it, will be Hephaestus, tricky as they were during practice; Athena, for obvious reasons; and Will and Sherman themselves will be their own worst enemy. He can’t tell if it would be better for them to fail out early to avoid racketing tension up further, or last close to the end to keep things at a healthy simmer.

In the end, it doesn’t matter. The second warning whistle goes off, and the chariots rush to the starting line — Will and Sherman at third position, Demeter to their left, Dionysus-Hypnos to their right. The stands go silent, the charioteers get in position, and with a sharp, shrill whistle, they’re off.

The first few seconds, as always, are chaotic.

In the ground with the settling dust are three separate chariots, including, surprisingly, Hermes, whose rigging backfired and sent their entire chariot up in smoke. They are luckily unharmed due to their unusually well-prepared fireproof armour, but neither Julia nor Connor seem too pleased about being out so soon.

The rest of the race continues on without them. Athena has a decent stretch of first place, but Nike is following fast. Behind them, barely a hair’s breadth of distance, is Will and Sherman, rocketing forward smoothly. Unlike Clarisse, Sherman does not care for giving Will any learning opportunities — despite the horses being Ares’, Will is on the reigns. Sherman is armed with his sword and his spear, slashing and jabbing at anyone who gets too close. Neither Ares or Apollo is big on tricks, not like some of the craftier cabins, but together they’re fast and strong and make a formidable opponent.

Or, well, they would. If they were working together, rather than two people simply being in the same chariot.

They cross into the second lap, Will guiding them across the innermost ring to move them up past Nike. They’re gaining on Athena, now, but that won’t be an easy task — challenging the camp’s wisest never is.

Kayla hisses through her teeth. “Shit.” She purses her lip at the trailing Nike chariot — they’re gaining, and they’re seething. Damien — at least Nico thinks it’s Damien, it’s hard to tell with the helmets — has an arsenal of throwing knives poised in his left hand, and as his teammate steers them steady, he takes aim. Nico has to resist the urge to shout a warning.

As the short knife sails towards the reigns wrapped around Will’s hands, though, aim ringing true, Will’s spine goes ramrod straight. Almost as if he can feel it. With an eighth of a second to spare, he shifts and jerks his hands out of the way, avoiding the knife and managing, somehow, to stay on track.

With a skill and ferocity that has Nico’s jaw brushing his toes, Will dodges all eight of the knives lobbed in his direction. In one memorable manoeuvre, he rips his left hand from the reigns, holding them in his teeth, and uses it to shove Sherman down behind the wall of the chariot right before a knife would have lodged itself in his uncovered cheek. Out of weapons, he steers their chariot right next to Nike, allowing Sherman to sever their reigns and send them rolling to a sad, victory-less stop.

Without pausing to look behind them, they race on.

Athena’s chariot has a lead, but their chariot is built for stability, not speed. They’ve accounted for every possible sabotage and built accordingly. They have not accounted for, however, stubbornness and sheer force of Will. The Ares-Apollo chariot gains on them, helmets glinting, skeletal horses gaining faster, faster, faster. Both Sherman and Malcom, Nico believes, have their spears drawn, ready, as the space between them gets smaller and smaller, to fight barbarically for first — for honour.

Nico doubts even Rachel, powers of prophecy fully restored, could predict what happens next.

Either too furious to accept a loss or simply deciding to throw the game, one of the Nike charioteers crawls out from their carriage, darting onto the live track. They scan the ground, looking for something. When they stand in the dead centre of the track, body perfectly tense, gripping something glinting in their hand, Nico gets it.

Austin gasps, nails digging into Nico’s arm. “Oh, no.”

Before anyone can say anything, they take aim. They measure once, twice, and then let the knife loose with deadly precision, knife cutting through the air with ease and hurdling with impossible power towards to two finalists chariots.

If the knife hits the Athena chariot, it will slice clean through the axle. Architectural wonder it may be, the chariot cannot withstand Celestial bronze at terminal velocity, and it will give, and the chariot will crumple. In an effort to lesson the chariot’s load, the Athena charioteers have largely forgone armour. Their fall will be painful and disastrous; as deadly as Clarisse’s, if not moreso. A hit to the Ares-Apollo chariot will be similarly as race-ending, but both Will and Sherman are in full armour. It will be bruising, but not deadly. They will lose, but they will survive.

All they need to do to win is shift, just slightly, so that the knife hits the Athena chariot.

Will, like with all the others before it, seems to feel this knife coming. Unlike the others, he glances backwards, looking at the knife, looking back at the Athena chariot. Sherman follows his gaze, and seems to realize what Will has calculated a split second after he does. He shouts something — presumably an order to move, to shift, to sabotage.

Will hesitates.

The knife hits the Ares-Apollo chariot, slicing through the left wheel.

It careens around, unbalanced, dragged into a heap by untethered horses.

The Athena chariot pulls forward to victory, the remaining functioning chariots quickly following.

The Ares-Apollo canon is left broken and humiliated only a few feet from victory, the almost-first-place.

———

As soon as they come off the track, things get messy. Both Will and Sherman are covered in dirt and grime, striped with grease from the broken wheels, bleeding sluggishly from various scraps. Sherman has his non-flailing hand clamped to an oozing wound on the side of his neck, and Will is limping.

“—and I cannot fucking believe you, Solace! All I asked for was effort!”

“Oh, forgive me,” Will says sarcastically, finally close enough to hear. “In the hustle and bustle of being shot at, I made a couple errors.”

“That gonna be your attitude in battle? ‘Oh, sorry, there was a monster chasing me so I lost all focus —’”

“Battles are not usually fought on a chariot going a hundred fucking miles per hour!”

“That’s no excuse! You need to be —”

“What, Sherman, fucking what? What indisputable flaw do I have, oh great one, that needs to be so desperately remedied?”

It’s startling when Will’s composure cracks. When he goes from bitey and sarcastic, eye-rolling from his usual distance, to right in Sherman’s face. It’s eerie to see him at his full height, no slouching, reminding anyone watching that yeah, actually, their laidback medic is six-two, strong, capable, in more ways than what they’re used to.

Sherman, in usual Ares kid fashion, doesn’t even flinch.

“Your reflexes, for starters,” he says coolly. “No matter what you do, Solace, you’re always one second too fucking late.”

A collective gasp ricochets through the gathered campers. The tension rackets up so rapidly that Nico coughs, lungs suddenly constricted. Will rears back so violently Nico is half-convinced Sherman actual punched him.

Sherman, for his part, seems to realise he’s crossed some kind of line. The cold look on his face twists into a scowl, uncomfortable and apologetic at once. “Look, Will, I just mean —”

“You don’t get to say that to me.”

Will’s quiet voice seems to echo through the entirety of the valley, cutting through laboured breathing of charioteers, pegasus neighing, even the crashing of the waves in the distant shore — everything goes silent.

Nico likes to think he knows Will pretty well. He knows what he sounds like when he’s giggly, watching his siblings argue about nothing; when he’s excitable, rambling about his newest obsession; when he can’t choose between amused and stern at whatever dumb thing Nico has gotten himself into. He knows what he sounds like when he’s exhausted, too, overworked and done with everything; when he’s annoyed, when he’s hurt and sad.

But he’s never heard Will sound so dangerous.

“Of all people.” His words are articulated, deliberate. The usual warmth of his eyes is gone. He’s completely still in a way he never is outside of surgery — no shaking in his perpetually trembling hands, no bounce to his curls, none of the constant energy that seems to constantly exude off him. Still, cold. Icy. “You do not get to talk to me about being one second too late.”

Sherman looks stricken. Guilt is written across each of his features, and for a second he steps back — as if afraid.

“Will, I —”

The son of Apollo turns without another word, striding over to the distant tree line and disappearing into the woods. No one chases after him.

No one even moves.

———

Predictably, the silence does not last long.

“You fucking idiot!” Clarisse explodes, the second Will is out of eyesight. She bats Chris’s hand away from her, and he, surprisingly, lets her go easily — his usually understanding face has hardened. She hobbles towards her brother, remarkably quick with her clunky cast, and starts truly tearing into him. “I asked you to do one fucking thing! One!”

Sherman quickly gets defensive under the scrutiny. “Well, you didn’t make it fucking easy! Just because he’s your protege doesn’t mean he’s my fucking problem —”

Nico doesn’t stick around to listen to their argument. He searches around the gathered crowd until he meets Kayla’s eyes, flicking his head towards the woods. She nods frantically. Knowing he’ll make sure they have privacy, he takes off, aiming for the same place Will went, barely slowing down once he enters the forest.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Will?” he calls, well aware he’s not going to get an answer. “Where are you?”

While there’s definitely no response from Will, he damn near jumps out of his skin when a dryad melts from her tree, shuffling towards him.

“Blond boy?” she asks, leaning close so he can hear her whisper. “Tall? Crying?”

Nico swallows. Fuck. “Yeah.”

“Headed down southeast, ways past Zeus’ fist.“

“Thank you,” he says, hoping she understands how much he means it.

She nods, then disappears back into her tree.

Following her directions, Nico jogs down beaten paths, heading in the direction that he is vaguely sure is southeast and mostly praying that he’ll find Will eventually. He shouldn’t have that much of a head start, since Nico left maybe five minutes after he did, but who knows. Will’s fast, and sometimes this forest seems bigger than it really is. It’s easy to get lost.

He searches for what feels like hours, and might actually be hours; sky darkening as the sun disappears into the lake. The temperature drops significantly. Nico is hoping that he won’t be spending the night sleeping in the dirt when he hears sniffling.

Heart pounding, he freezes, focusing on the sound. It’s muffled, sobs choked-off and sound hidden behind cupped hands. The echo sounds strange, too; it’s close, that much is obvious, but Nico almost can’t tell if it’s coming from the left or the right. Truthfully, it doesn’t sound like either.

On impulse, he looks up. Almost invisible in the branches of a large oak tree is Will, stained clothes blending in with the scratchy bark, leaves covering the rest of him.

Except, perhaps fittingly, his bright, golden hair.

Worried that calling out to him might startle him right off the tree, Nico begins to climb. He’s not great at climbing — he doesn’t have a natural sense of what is and isn’t a good foothold — but oak trees are easy. Every half-step has a branch, and this tree is old enough that the branches are thick, sturdy. He’s twenty feet up before he even realizes, barely breaking a sweat.

He pauses a few feet shy of his target, straightening until he’s standing on an almost flat branch, arm looped tightly around the trunk.

“Will.”

Will startles. He looks around frantically, struggling in the dark, until his bloodshot eyes finally land on Nico. He bursts into more tears, shoulders shaking as he sobs.

Alarmed, Nico crawls all the way up.

“Woah, Will, breathe, vita, breathe —”

He’s not sure what tree-sobbing etiquette is, but regular sobbing etiquette often involves some kind of comforting physical touch, so he goes with that. And Will, he knows, likes to be crowded, likes to be almost suffocated with the sights and touch and smells of other people, to remind him he’s not alone, even if he feels it. So Nico scoots as closely as he dares, legs wrapped around the branch, and slides one arm around Will’s back, one against his chest, and tugs him closely.

Will comes easily.

With a bit of manoeuvring, he’s tucked under Nico’s chin, shoulders hunched and shaking, enveloped entirely in Nico’s arms. He can feel a wet spot growing on his left sleeve, and honestly he should be at least a little bit disgusted, but he barely even notices. He’s too busy fighting the lump in his own throat, blinking back his own tears.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to Will’s curls. “Let it out, Will. You’re allowed.”

Will wails, a deep, choking, broken sound, and Nico loses the battle with his own tears. He’s never heard Will like this. He’s never heard anyone like this, except himself, in the echo of this same forest, years ago. It hurts like biting ice.

“It hurts, they’re gone, they’re gone, and I hate them, I hate them so much —” he heaves, dragging in breath like it cost him to say it, like part of his soul was dragged out of his vocal chords — “and I hate myself for hating them, I hate, they’re gone, I’m never —”

He dissolves into sobs, again, words breaking into nothing understandable, crying around the same repetitions over and over again. Nico hides his crumpling face in Will’s hair, wincing at every broken cry, every hitched breath, every moaned word. His heart feels like it’s breaking into a million fractals. He’s never felt so out of depth in his life.

“Let it out,” he whispers again, for a lack of anything else to say. “Let it out, sweetheart, let it out.”

For a long time, Nico had no one to hold him.

When he lost Bianca, he was by himself. And when he thought he had someone to guide him, someone to fix him, he was wrong — he was vulnerable and easy to manipulate. He had no one to hold him until he was too bitter and too closed off to let himself fall apart, anyway, and losing Bianca stayed somewhere rotten inside him, a bruise that never, ever stopped aching.

Until Will.

Last December he had cracked like an egg. He hadn’t meant to — it wasn’t even in the back of his mind — but he’d opened the door to Will’s smiling face on the morning, cold and sad as it was, and just started bawling. Some part of him, some deep, buried part, stomped it’s way from the prison Nico had kept it in and took the hell over, yanking open the floodgates, forcing him to expel every last drop of shadowy, strangling pain that had stayed inside him so long. He thought he was going to die. His entire body shook and jerked like a rowboat in a deep ocean storm, and it had been Will’s lighthouse, his endless, light eyes, his warm hands, his firm hold that had held him steady until he’d dragged himself out to the other side. It was and is the most painful thing he’d ever done in his life. And the most important.

He doesn’t think Will has had anyone to hold him, before, either. Not ‘til right this moment. Not Chiron, not his mother, and certainly not an older sibling. Will has been running on empty for as long as Nico has known him. Longer.

“Let it out,” Nico whispers again, and holds him tighter.

———

By the time either of them move again, it’s pale, early morning, and they’re damp from the dew and Will’s tears. Nico is as stiff as the tree he’s sitting on, but doesn’t dare say a word about it.

“I don’t want to go back,” Will croaks, the first either of them have spoken in hours.

Nico tucks a strand of hair behind his ear, resting a gentle hand on his cheek. “Okay.”

“We can’t stay here forever.”

“We can stay a while.” Nico pulls away slightly, just enough so that he can cradle Will’s face in both hands, tilting his chin up to meet his gaze. “I mean it, Will. As long as you need.”

“What if I’ll never have enough time?”

“Then I’ll stay with you until time runs out.” He presses a tentative, careful kiss to the centre of his freckled forehead; staying when Will shudders, leaning into it. Against his skin, he murmurs, “But you’ll have enough time, vita. You’re the strongest person I know.”

“I don’t want to be strong.”

“So don’t, I gotcha.” He presses another kiss slightly above the first, and another, resting again at the crown of his head. “But you can be.”

They stay like that until Nico’s face starts to go numb, and even then he doesn’t go far, shifting so his cheek lays on the top of Will’s skull. He ignores the slight tickle of his curls against his nose, focusing instead on the brand of his hands on his waist, the shakey but constant inhales, holds, exhales, again, again, again.

“Clarisse is my friend,” Will starts. “She was as important to me as — as Cass, before the war.”

Nico hums. “But she betrayed you.”

“All of us.”

“And you resent her for it, a little.”

Will nods. “It’s disgusting.”

“It’s human, Will, Christ.” He moves them around so they’re both sitting facing each other, Nico’s eyes firmly meeting Will’s. “I will never fully forgive Percy for letting Bianca die. Never. It’s not fair to him, and I love him anyway, and I am choosing to move past it. But I will carry that burden. Am I disgusting for that?”

Will glances away. “No.”

“Will, you — look at me.”

He does.

“Clarisse actively chose her pride over her people. So did the rest of her cabin. She’s not fully responsible for that choice, and the blame, as always, lands on Kronos’ shoulders, but —” Nico laughs, a bitter, defeated sound. “Out of all of us, you lost the most. No one lost as many as Apollo. No one burned as many shrouds. You’re allowed to be hurt, allowed to be angry.”

“I forgave them,” Will admits. “I did it publicly and called off the stupid rivalry right after the war. It was the first thing I did as head counsellor.”

“Trying to do what Michael would have done?”

“Are you kidding me, he —” Will scoffs, swiping at the tears trickling down the corners of his eyes. “If Michael were alive, and he found out I forgave them after what happened to Lee, too Diana — he would have been furious. He would stop speaking to me. If I was trying to be like Michael, I might’ve refused them treatment.”

Nico tries to imagine that for a second — Will refusing anyone treatment. It makes something sour uncurl in his stomach, something unsettling.

“You would never refuse someone treatment. I didn’t even — I didn’t think you guys were allowed.”

Will shrugs. “There are no rules to our practice. I just never made refusal an option, and the kids are too young to know any different.”

‘The kids’ — as if Kayla and Austin aren’t as old or older than Will was when he was in charge, when he held the bashed pieces of his brother’s brain as it oozed out of his skull. As he sat, exhausted, hands shaking, next to Nico, and embroidered twelve shrouds. As if Yan and Gracie are his, rather than Apollo’s.

“You forgave them so your siblings wouldn’t grow up bitter,” Nico realises. “Oh, gods, Will.”

He shrugs again, picking at his nails. “For me too. Grudges aren’t healthy.” He tries for a teasing smile. “You’d know.”

“I would.” Nico tries to smile back. It’s easier than he thought it would be, although it fades back into something serious quickly. He reaches out, linking his hands with Will’s to stop him picking before he bleeds. “You can be selfish sometimes, you know.”

“Not in front of anyone.”

“You’re admitting it in front of me,” Nico points out.

Will hesitates. “That’s — different.”

“How?”

“You get it.” He looks down, voice quiet. “You get me. I can —” He meets Nico’s eyes again, a kind of helpless smile on his face. “I dunno. You’re safe. You’re okay with me, even when I’m ugly.”

“Even then,” Nico echoes quietly. He reaches up and tucks a strand of hair behind Will’s ear again, even though none were loose. His fingertips linger, and the skin under his touch warms. “Especially then.”

“You can, too, you know, I lo —”

“I know.”

Will exhales in relief. “Good.”

He slumps forward until his forehead rests on the swell of Nico’s shoulder, breaths warming the air between them. Nico tries to match his rhythm — in, out, in, out. Hold. Out, in.

“Can we — hide here, for a little bit? Just a little longer.”

“Of course,” Nico murmurs, squeezing his wrists. “I’ll hide you as long as you need.”

[savethegrishaverse]

This is such a good mention, and I also wonder if the parallel to grief goes deeper! I mean, Nina and Nico were both orphaned and force to leave home (granted Nico spent about 70 or so years in a casino) to join the larger fight for good. They both seem to be outcasts, even though from other characters perspectives they are well liked. Nina outcasts herself by being talkative and sassy to hide her real thoughts or intentions, and Nico is emo so already no one talks to him (that is a joke I am emo so I am obligated to tease him).

I really never thought about this parallel but it's such a good one! Though they aren't simular characters based on personality their actions and strife is shockingly paralleling each other! This is a great post!

Another parallel that came to mind while reading Percy Jackson is between Nina and Nico. obviously they are opposite in character, but both have the power to control the dead, both have suffered a serious personal loss, both have a connection to darkness. I love Nico's character and Nina's new power makes her even more interesting (that's another thing I was robbed of). ah and both are greedy for delicious but not too healthy food! ps. Nico's photos are fancasts found online so nothing official..(I know there is a Percy Jackson TV show but I have yet to see it). If I can think of other parallels I will create them!

[pjohoo-reclists]

Dark Percy Jackson Fic Recs

Request: Looking for some completed dark Percy fics.

Here's a few. I would also recommend checking out my Percy in Tartarus and Powerful Percy Jackson rec lists as well. Enjoy!

Dominus Veneni by Death_o7

T | 1.1k | Complete

Percy Jackson/Annabeth Chase, Percy Jackson & Annabeth Chase

Dark Percy Jackson, Akhlys, Tartarus

HoO glossed over Percy's outburst in Tartarus too fast so I'm making an one shot from it.

Mind Control by DancingInTheSliverGlow

T | 1.2k | Complete

Percy Jackson/Annabeth Chase

Dark Percy Jackson, Percy has god like powers, Scared Annabeth Chase

Tartarus had its own rules. Fire was drinkable. The ground was the body of a dark god. The air was acid, and demigods could be turned into smokey corpses. Compared to that, the idea of controlling poisons was… easy. Percy glared at the poisonous lake around him. He focused, and reached with the part of his mind that allowed him to control water. The poisonous tide stopped. The fumes blew away from him and back towards the goddess. The lake of poison rolled toward her in tiny waves and rivulets. Akhlys took a hesitant step back. “What is this?!” She looked alarmed, scared even. Percy thought it was a good look on her. “Poison,” Percy snarled at her. “That’s your specialty, right?”

Only When You're Older, You'll See It Too by Butterflies_Stormclouds

T | 1.8k | Complete

Percy Jackson & Poseidon, Percy Jackson & Dionysus, Percy Jackson & Apollo, Percy Jackson & Hermes

Loss of Innocence, Deity Percy Jackson, Dark Percy Jackson

It's been mentioned throughout the years that Percy is a "good god." Millennia pass before he finally proves them - his father, cousins and family - are all correct.

are you the saint (that burned the gods of man) by maverickk

T | 2.0k | Complete

Percy Jackson/Annabeth Chase, Percy Jackson & The Seven

Feral Percy Jackson, Dark Percy Jackson, Blood Control

The Argo II gets boarded by pirates. This goes as well as expected, until they piss Percy off.

Five Times Percy Felt More Than Human, and the One Time He Came Home by kitty_pryde_bi_pride

G | 2.0k | Complete

Percy Jackson, Sally Jackson

Dark Percy Jackson, Powerful Percy Jackson, Family Feels

Percy is 17, almost an adult, when he masters control over his father’s domain. He hasn’t hit a ceiling on his power yet and he doesn’t think he ever will, but he feels strong enough that he can barely remember the fear of losing he felt at 12 when he fought the minotaur.

show me your worst (show me you're cursed) by maverickk

T | 2.1k | Complete

Percy Jackson & Calypso, Calypso & Leo Valdez, Percy Jackson & Leo Valdez

Powerful Percy Jackson, Dark Percy Jackson, Camp Half Blood

Percy's war is over, leaving him free to relax and try to adjust to the tentative peace. Leo's war is still going, though, and Percy's never been able to leave his companions to fight their battles on their own. Even if it means visiting someone he wouldn't mind never seeing again. Part 3 of I Hear You're Alive (How Disappointing)

we'll brave this storm by maverickk

T | 2.3k | Complete

Percy Jackson & Poseidon

Dark Percy Jackson, Moral Dilemmas, Post-Tartarus

Poseidon won't pretend to understand what his youngest son is going through. But that doesn't mean that Percy will be going through it alone. Part 4 of I Hear You're Alive (How Disappointing)

i'll find him by maverickk

T | 2.4k | Complete

Percy Jackson & Tyson, Minor Percy Jackson/Annabeth Chase, Nico di Angelo & The Seven

Dark Percy Jackson, Percy Jackson's Fatal Flaw, Earthshaker Powers

Tyson has been taken, and Percy's on a warpath. Someone is going to pay.

bury me underneath this bloody grave by keigold

M | 2.4k | Complete

Percy Jackson/Bob | Iapetus, Past Percy Jackson/Annabeth Chase

Character Study, Dark Percy Jackson, Bob | Iapetus is a Sweetheart

There is no one here to stop him from reaching out with a bruised hand and snagging monster blood, grabbing ahold of their dancing molecules and tearing them apart - no one here to stop his descent into becoming the thing he feared the most. or; What if Percy went through Tartarus alone?

the shark in your water by southslates

M | 2.6k | Complete

Percy Jackson & Sally Jackson, Percy Jackson & Poseidon, Percy Jackson & Gabe Ugliano

Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Sally Jackson is a Good Parent, Abusive Relationships, Dark Percy Jackson

Percy understands a lot, not arithmetic or the alphabet but he understands a lot about the way the world works, can’t quite understand Gabe’s place in it.

five times percy leaned on his friends, and the one time he stood alone by kitty_pryde_bi_pride

G | 3.5k | Complete

Percy Jackson, Jason Grace, Grover Underwood, Tyson

Dark Percy, BAMF Percy Jackson, Morally Grey Behaviour

Percy meets his friends on the battlefield and they all know he’s unbeatable, even alone. And he is alone, even with the sea and the earth and the blessing of the Styx and the blood in their veins- he can tell they think he’s gone as mad as Luke.

a rose by any other name by IzzyMRDB

T | 3.8k | Complete

Percy Jackson & Poseidon

Worldbuilding, Eldritch Horror!Percy, Dark Percy Jackson

It wasn't Poseidon who met Sally on that beach on Montauk, but rather a far older, much more ancient version of him. Percy is born far older and younger than he should be.

Kill the Hero by maverickk

T | 13k | Complete

Percy Jackson/Annabeth Chase

Dark Percy Jackson, Scared Annabeth Chase, Percy Jackson Needs a Hug

"A slow death!" Misery had crowed at him. "A death from a thousand poisons!" And it was. It was slow, and painful, and terrible, and Percy wished he could he could say he wouldn't wish it on his worst enemies. But it wasn't his death, it was Akhlys's—and she deserved so much worse. In which Percy Jackson goes A Bit Too Far, Annabeth Chase gets A Bit Too Scared, and the story changes for the worse. Part 1 of I Hear You're Alive (How Disappointing)

You don't believe in one divine (But can you tell me you believe in mine?) by anxious_tofu

M | 21k | Complete

Percy Jackson & Dionysus, Percy Jackson/Annabeth Chase

Post-Tartarus, Dark Percy Jackson, Deity Percy Jackson, Psychological Trauma

With a looming threat on the horizon, Percy delves into parts of himself he hasn't touched since Tartarus.

Trust is Nothing by maverickk

T | 33k | Complete

Percy Jackson, Annabeth Chase, Nico di Angelo, Gaea

Hurt Annabeth Chase, Dark Percy Jackson, Blood Control

Percy Jackson had been left, alone, in Tartarus. His trust in his best friend was shattered. His loyalty was owed to no one. His energy went into keeping himself alive, and if he had to delve into darker and more deadly powers, so be it. But now he's out, and he has work to do. In which Percy Jackson, hopefully, manages to win a war, flip off Annabeth Chase, and take a much-needed nap. Not in that order. Part 2 of I Hear You're Alive (How Disappointing)

Enriched By Envy by HK44

M | 63k | Complete

Percy Jackson/Nico di Angelo

Dark Percy Jackson, Angst, Secret Crush, Jealously

Waking up at the bottom of the ocean was not on Nico's bucket list. Trying to figure out why Percy was suddenly so clingy and possessive of him wasn't on there either.

Percy In Tartarus by May1974 (bluefeye)

M | 111k | Complete

Past Percy Jackson/Annabeth Chase, Minor/Background Relationships

House of Hades rewrite, Post Tartarus, Dark Percy Jackson

Percy falls into Tartarus alone.

Blood-Red Herring by DAsObiQuiet

T | 142k | Complete

Percy Jackson/Annabeth Chase

Tartarus Survival, BAMF Annabeth Chase, Protective Poseidon

The Olympian gods have a history of making monumentally bad decisions and not learning from their mistakes. Of course that'll come back to bite them, and everyone seems to think Percy will be the one doing the biting. Thing is, he's tired and just wants to live a normal life. Too bad literally no one believes him except his friends, and now he has to survive the consequences of yet another one those monumentally bad decisions. AKA: Tartarus nearly destroyed Percy the first time, in more ways than one. It's worse the second time. So much worse. And this time, he has no way out. He desperately clings to the one thing he knows without a doubt: 'I have to stay alive for when Annabeth comes for me'. Because she will.

Falling For You by 1967HogwartsGoddess

T | 270k | Complete

Percy Jackson/Annabeth Chase, Percy Jackson & The Seven, Percy Jackson & Poseidon

Percy Jackson Needs a Hug, House of Hades, Dark Percy Jackson

In an alternate series of events, Percy saves Annabeth from falling into Tartarus. Too bad he can't save himself. As Annabeth leads the Seven on a treacherous quest to meet him at the Doors of Death, Percy fights through a wasteland of pain, torture and difficult choices. Surrounded by monsters, alone in the darkest corner of the underworld, he starts to question whether he's a good kid anymore. Final chapter is an AU following on from chapter 66.

[justonemorechapternicercy]

I wish a happy, peaceful and stress-free birthday to my beloved @unbeknownstunknown I hope your day will be at least okay, but hopefully as wonderful as you are. (I'm not sure if you still like Nicercy or not, but hopefully yes. 🫣) I love you my dear. I wish you the best, because you deserve it!

Grover knew things. Most people didn't realize that; next to the big Percy Jackson, he was basically invisible. Even after following Pan's footsteps, he was still just a background character. Not that he minded, of course! He'd rather be just a side note than live through what Percy had to experience in all of his life. (He would NEVER want to be a demigod. No way.)

So, it wasn't like he minded being forgotten by people who weren't his friends. It made it possible to see things; to hear things.

To know things.

Like how the Stolls did most of their pranks. Or how Rachel found the loophole in her virginity oath. (That one was not something he wanted to know. Like, come on, girl! With Thalia?! Not something Grover wanted to know about his friends…)

Or how Nico di Angelo has been in love with Percy ever since the first time he looked at him. And how the literal second half of his soul has been in love with Nico ever since the guy saved their asses in the Battle of Manhattan. To be fair… the two of them weren't subtle. (Yet they still didn't realize their feelings. Idiots.)

Usually he stayed out of other's lives. He knew their secrets, but they were not his to spread. He just kept them. Like pretty jewels on a shelf; pretty, but basically useless. He only interjected when it was really important. Like in the battles. When he had to notify Percy about new rumors from Olympus. When there were gossips about Juniper.

But… maybe some secrets were more important to share than to keep.

For years, he saw the pinning grow. How crush turned into love, how suspicion turned into blind trust. Sometimes he suspected he knew them better than they knew themselves. He'd seen them grow up, from naive mortals to battle-hardened almost-gods.

He was the happiest he'd ever been with Juniper; didn't Percy, his soulmate, deserve the same happiness? Deciding to get involved was a scary thought. But not as scary as it was to imagine his best friend settling down with not having the best thing for him. To imagine Grover getting married and having the love of his life for the rest of their immortal lives, while Percy was thinking he wasn't loved, adored and cherished by Nico.

That was unacceptable.

He loved Juniper. He wanted to marry her, to have children with her, to spend the rest of their immortal lives with her. And seeing Nico and Percy laughing with each other, “talking” without any spoken discussion, being so comfortable with each other, yet believing their feelings were unreciprocated… Grover knew.

They deserved to have the same thing he had with his beloved.

Getting the two together was probably easier than expected, but harder than it sounded. He went shopping for Juniper's ring, taking Percy and Nico with him. For moral support, of course.

Not because he knew that as soon as they would get into the store, the two of them would stare at the rings with interest. Nope.

“Nico?” Grover asked. The younger boy raised his eyebrow curiously. “Do you think Percy's and Juniper's fingers are the same size? I forgot to ask about her ring size.”

Nico thought for a second, turning his head to look at Percy. Grover already knew the answer. “Yeah, I think so.”

They looked at the glass, studying the rings under it for a bit longer. Grover imagined how the rings would look on Juniper's gorgeous finger, and he suspected Nico was also thinking the same, except in his mind it was Percy's finger.

The Sea Prince was walking back and forth in the shop, like the ADHD demigod he was, before he walked up to them, throwing an arm around Nico's shoulder to check on their progress.

“Percy, I need your help,” Grover said. “Your finger is the same size as Juniper's and I want to see which ring would fit on her.”

Maybe seeing a ring on Percy's finger, Nico would realize he should put a ring on it.

“What do you think,” he turned towards Nico, “would look the best on-? I mean… If you were buying a ring for Percy, which one do you think would fit?”

His two friends were staring at him, bewildered. Too much? Probably.

“That.”

But it worked. Nico's answer was too quick, his choice was too perfect to hide he was thinking about it before.

“Oh,” Percy sighed. The ring really was perfect. Thin silver band with a tiny blue stone in it; deceptively graceful, just like Percy was.

“I would wear it,” Percy confessed, eyes still on the jewelry, his ears suspiciously red.

“Oh,” Nico exhaled.

“I would…” the Ghost King coughed, light blush pinkening his unhealthy pale skin. “I would buy it. For you. If you want, that's it. From me.”

It was painful to watch. Like a chariot crash. But Grover couldn't look away. It was happening!

“I mean… if it was you buying it, for me… That would be. Uh. I'd love that?”

They were so awkward. It was adorable. Grover felt like he was both the proud big brother of both, and the long-suffering love expert who has been waiting for this moment for years.

“You- really?!” Nico looked so excited; like a puppy. Hellhound, Grover admitted, but a puppy nonetheless.

Percy swallowed. “Yes,” he breathed.

Nico's mouth dropped open a little, as if he was surprised at how easy it was. Well. Probably it was surprising for him. Grover knew.

“Would you- really? Will you… Is it just…”

Percy blushed, redder than Grover ever had seen him before. “I will marry you. If. If that's what you- Was that? I mean.”

“Yes.” Nico was nodding, like one of those little toy dogs in the cars, bobbing his head up and down. “Percy. Will you marry me?”

Grover sighed, not bothering to hide his proud smile. Finally! After years and years and years… It was finally happening.

“Yes.”