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The armor is too large for him. The helmet rattles on his head and the breastplate hits his chest with every stride that he takes. The sword that he wields is awkward and heavy, for he has the hands of a medic. He has the fingers of a healer, not of a warrior. Still, Patroclus marches onward, towards the city of Achilles’s foes, away from the ships that he had promised to stay beside. The ships that he vowed to bring back to his leader, his partner, his lover, his friend.

Patroclus’s fingers tightened on the hilt of his weapon as he sliced into the back of a retreating Trojan. The boy could not have been more than sixteen summers old. His eyes were a mixture of green and gray, and they were terrified. They looked like Achilles’s eyes, except for the emotion. Instead of fear, Achilles’s had only shown in anger recently. They looked like the waves of the ocean during a summer storm, crashing and turbulent upon the rocks of reality. His fury had pushed away not only Patroclus, but also Breseis.

At the thought of the woman who was Achilles’s—Patroclus’s—their lover (Was she still theirs now that Agamemonon had taken her away from them?), Patroclus shook his head. He was not jealous. He was not lonesome. He was not heartsick. Not for either of them. Not at this point of time, at least. This was a time of war. Of killing. He continued after Hector and his army, his heartbeat thudding in his ears. The gates were near. Troy would fall before Patroclus let himself fall back. He could win this. He could lead Achilles’s men to victory.

It is then that the sun’s light blinded him and took the form of a radiant young man who was too beautiful and too alive to simply be a mere mortal. His golden hair caught the sun’s rays and his blue eyes gleamed with malice. A bow made of gold and detailed with silver was slung over his shoulder, complete with a matching quiver of arrows. Patroclus knew in that instant that he was facing Apollo, son of Zeus, god of the sun. Patroclus readied his sword, unwilling to back down from his (Achilles’s, it was all for Achilles) victory. The god notched an arrow and Patroclus ordered Achilles’s men to draw back. There was a smile on the deity’s lips, one that was too knowing and too cold. It sent shivers down Patroclus’s spine.

“And so we meet,” Apollo said taking a step forward, “The famed warrior, Achilles. Though, I must wonder if you are who they say that you are. Ballads and songs, while emotional and passionate, often boast of the greater man’s abilities.” His voice was calculated and calmly soothing, it reminded Patroclus of the summers of his boyhood that he spent with Achilles training under Chiron. He sunk down into a defensive position, his brown eyes surveying the battlefield. Apollo laughed at him. “You think that you can fight a god, boy?!”

“I must try. I must try for them.” Those words were a whisper in the sea breeze, but perhaps Apollo heard them. For just one second, his smile dampened.

“Let us see just how strong those loyalties of yours are.” He whispered, almost distantly intrigued by Patroclus’s words. It was then that he vanished, and in his place stood a chariot, carrying not only Hector, but also his chariot driver, Cebriones. Patroclus grabbed a spear from the ground as the chariot charged him. He pulled back and let go.

The Javion went soaring toward the horse-drawn cart and Cebriones went down with a muffled cry and a shower of blood. Both armies went surging forward in an attempt to drag the boy’s god-made armor off of his still warm corpse. Patroclus called for order, but there was none. There was only chaos. He scanned the battlefield for Hector, so that he could finish the match. He readied to raise his weapon.

That was when it happened. The golden arrow sliced through the back of his leg with such ease, it was hard to believe that it was there until the pain shot through Patroclus’s body a few moments after. The boy let out a scream and fell to the ground. His helmet slid off his head and onto the ground, where it rolled away. Unprotected brown eyes looked down at the golden tipped arrow in misted agony and shock. Shaking fingers tried to snap notch in two. But it was too late. Hector’s footfall was heavy on the ground.

Patroclus knew that it was useless to run. He held onto his sword so that he would pass on with it in his hand. So that he would pass on with a piece of Achilles by his side. He looked up at the warrior who stood triumphantly (But not angry, no Hector never seemed angry) over him with a raised spear. Brown eyes met calm blue. The spear rose and fell. The last thing that Patroclus saw is the bright sun shining down upon him. It is not hot, nor is it blinding. It was soft, almost pitying.

“Why would you give so much for someone who loves you so little?” The god’s words rang in Patroclus’s ears even after he had stopped breathing. They flittered through the air even as soldiers began to fight over his body for the parts of his (Achilles’s, always Achilles’s armor). Why would you give so much for someone who loves you so little?

I’ve loved him (them)

I love him (them)

And I will always love him

(Them)

Nico woke up screaming and gasping. His hand gripped at his stomach tightly, as if he was trying to stem an invisible wound. Pain still shot up his spine and paralyzed him with fear and agony. He choked on the emptiness that flooded through his lungs as he took gulp after gulp of air. He felt bile cling to the inside of his throat. Tears ran down his face. He screamed again.

There was a rush of air as the shadows of the room congregated in the far corner and Hades and Persephone rushed in. Hades’ hand was on his sword. Persephone had conjured the shadow. There was nothing in the room, only shadows of a past life, long forgotten.

……………………………………………………..

“Hades, what was that?” Persephone inquired as they walked down the granite hallways of their palace. Hades said nothing, but his eyes were gleaming with a deadly fire. “The boy has had night terrors about the Tartarus that were not that painful to witness.”

“He does not wish to discuss it.”

“He was in hysterics when we got there!” There was something sharp in the goddess’s voice, as if she was just a step away from turning on her heels and heading back into the room.

“Why, Persephone, it is almost as if you are beginning to care about my son.” Persephone knew not to rise to the challenge. She had seen the way that her husband’s hand had tightened on the hilt of his blade when he took in his son’s pain. She had seen the way that his lips pursed as his whole body went still.

“How can you be so calm about this?” The woman demanded to know.

“He remembered something that he was not supposed to.”

“Something from a past life?” Hades’ silence was enough to give his wife a definite answer. “What if it happens again?”

“It won’t. Morpheus wouldn’t risk my anger.”

“But if it does?”

Hades stopped short and for a minute, the cloth of his robes seemed to glimmer with more agony than normal. His expression had darkened. “Then I will kill Perseus Jackson.”

“Now dear, you can’t just go off killing random heroes because you aren’t a decent father. What does he have to do with it?”

“Everything.”

……………………………………………………..

Annabeth was the second to remember, about a month after Gaea had been destroyed. She jerked to attention in the middle of the night, her eyes just as wild as her hair. Her legs were tangled in the white sheets of her bed and her entire body was tense. Her skin felt clammy and too tight and there were sticky tracks of water scrolling down her cheeks. She breathed out a shaky sigh and looked around the interior of Athena’s cabin.

All of her siblings were still fast asleep in their beds. Thank the gods that she hadn’t woken any of them. It’d be a little difficult to explain that she what she had just experienced. She ran a hand through her blonde curls, trying not to think about how the length was off or about the fact that it was supposed to be darker. It was not wrong. She was not that woman. It was another demigod dream. It was just a dream. Nothing more—yeah right. Who was she kidding? That had been way too clear, even for a mystic vision.

Annabeth blew her bangs out of her eyes and fell back so that she was staring up at the vaulted ceiling. She tried not to think of tanned skin and turquoise eyes that were always alight with the light of battle and bloodshed. She tried not to think of the other… man (it was a disservice to call the Patroclus and Achilles two people. They were two halves of the same person, two sides of the same coin. Where one was harsh, the other was soft; where one was passionate, the other was logical; where one ended, the other began. Where one went, the other would, inevitably, follow with sword drawn.) that had shared their tent (their bed) every night after each round of the battle drew to a close.

“Do not let yourself fall upon their swords,” Breseis had muttered to Patroclus as he had exited Achilles’ (their; it was theirs even though it was only meant to fit one person: all three of them ate, slept, fucked, loved, and cried there. It was theirs) tent in armor that nearly hung off his body. His eyes were blank from beneath his helm, but she knew better than to assume that he was calm. She could tell that he was frightened. She trailed two fingers over his clinched fist and forced a smile upon her lips.

“Keep him calm?” Patroclus was nearly begging her. In that moment, with his dark curls and blackened eyes, he had reminded Annabeth of a ghost of an Italian boy that she had never really known that well but had always respected.

“I will spend what time I can spare by his side.” She had whispered, for they were already gaining side-long glances from the passing soldiers. After all, what type of man spoke to a taken woman without her holder (“Master,” the other concubines whispered with fear in their eyes, “Call him your master.” She could only stare at them pityingly and coldly) present? She, as Breseis, had bit the inside of her cheek in an attempt to keep up the calm façade that she had perfected over the months of distasteful words and hurtful jests. Agamemonon had not made any move to have her, yet, but she knew that it was only a matter of time with men like him. Even then, he would have her body but never her soul.

For just one minute, the mask that Patroclus had worn crumbled slightly, “Gods bless, my friend,” He said, trailing his thumb down the edge of her jaw. Breseis had to smile at that. To Achilles, she was a wife. To Patroclus, she was a friend. Both of them saw her as their equal. Neither of them truly saw her as a conquest. No one else’s opinion mattered.

“Don’t you dare let yourself die.” She found herself choking on the words. “Come back to us after your pride has been worn down.”

“I’m not doing this for my pride.” Here, Patroclus had looked back into the tent where he had come from.

“I hope that you aren’t just doing this for him, either.”

“I’m fighting because he promised them that he would lead them.”

Breseis shook her head, feeling a chill run through her body, “Save only the ships. Nothing more.”

“Only the ships.” Patroclus repeated. There was something off with his voice. Annabeth felt Breseis’s shoulders slump before she reconnected their gaze.

“Come here.” She whispered. When he leaned down, she kissed the center of his helm. The touch was cold and metallic and she hated that it was the best that she could give or get. “Go.” She ordered, keeping her voice steady and her back straight. As Patroclus moved away, the loneliness and hopelessness of the situation grew to be overpowering. Briseis had to grab the side of the tent to remain standing tall. She knew that would be the last time that she saw Patroclus alive. Annabeth had jerked awake the minute the woman entered the tent. It was only then that she noticed that she was crying.

She barely lasted four minutes on her own. At the end of the seventh, she was already at Cabin Three’s doorstep, desperately knocking. Percy opened the door at the end of the fourth hit of her fist on the wood. He took one look at her wild terror and took her into his arms without any questions.

That dream had jarred her worse than most of her nightmares of the Tartarus. After all, she had faced monsters on a day-to-day basis and won each time. The death of a loved one isn’t something you can vanquish with the blade of a sword. It was something you carried with you for the rest of your life. It was an open would that would never really stop bleeding. That sort of thing froze Annabeth’s heart.

……………………………………………………..

Percy, as always, was the last to remember their ‘past’. Unlike the other two, it didn’t come in a dream. It came in the middle of the day, on a warm Saturday afternoon in the middle of August, during a friendly spare with Jason. One minute he was parrying a blow and sweeping behind Jason’s to aim a strike at the blonde’s back, and the next he was crouched on the ground with a pounding head. Images of a dark haired, dark eyed, bloody, and lifeless boy flashed across his mind’s eye and his heart clenched and his chest tightened and fucking damn it: he had gotten so close to going three weeks without a having a panic attack and it wasn’t even fair and he didn’t even know the guy. But the fogged expression of fear in those brown eyes made Percy’s mind reel and—

“Gods, Percy!” He felt strong hands wrap underneath his arms and drag him up into a standing position. Jason looked down at him with worried eyes. Leo was running over to the, his face free of its normal grin.

“What happened?”

“I-I—” Percy was fighting every single impulse in his body to fight and run and keep on running. Except he didn’t know where he’d run to. All that he could picture were white beaches, crystal blue oceans, and jagged gray rocks that gave way to vibrant foliage and gods, he didn’t even know that place, why did his heart ache for it?

There was the thudding of hooves upon the ground and Percy swallowed when he saw Chiron come to stand beside him. He tried to rise back up to his feet but his head began to spin. The clang of metal swords rang in his ears and for just one second, he thought he could hear the soft and hesitant laugh of someone who made his blood thrill.

“What happened?” Chiron asked, his voice calm but stern.

“I-I’m not sure.” Jason whispered, and it was only then that Percy realized that the son of Jupiter was crouching down beside him with a hand on his shoulder. Leo was also standing beside him, his lips drawn tightly together. “I didn’t hit him.”

“I’m fine, sir.” Percy muttered, the words muffled.

“Then why are you on the ground, unable to get back up on your feet?”

“Sorry, sir.” Percy whispered, trying to keep his words from slurring together despite the pain. His voice sounded odd to his ears and he felt Chiron stop short.

“What was that?” There was something almost panicked in the centaur’s tone.

“S-Sorry, sir.” Percy repeated, though his voice had returned to normal. Chiron still didn’t look placated.

“Get him to the infirmary.”

“Yes, sir.”

……………………………………………………..

The infirmary was almost completely vacant for once. Percy was barely able to take in his surroundings while trying to accommodate for his spinning head. For the most part, he just laid down on one of the main beds and closed his eyes, trying to ignore the spinning ceiling. Finally, he managed to crack one eye open to look around. The walls blurred together, making him feel nauseous. He wondered if that was what being sea-sick felt like. If so, he would never wish it upon anyone. Ever. “Chiron?”

“Here, Perseus Jackson.” The man trotted up to the bedside and looked down at the demigod.

“What happened?”

“You collapsed. Though Jason says that you were not struck down. Can you remember anything?”

Images of bright blue oceans flittered past Percy’s eyes, slowly transforming into the interior of a castle. A smiling dark haired youth with a book managed to startle him out his reminiscing. “There’s a kid.”

“Oh?” There was a hard edge in the set of Chiron’s mouth.

“A kid in a castle by the sea. H-He was lonely. He died, Chiron. He died for someone.” For me.

Chiron shifted from side to side. He was nervous when he spoke back up, “What was his name?”

What was his name? What was his—What’s your name then? Another voice asked, young and innocent of life’s trials. This voice seemed to come from the viewer. It came from Percy. The other child pushed his hair out of eyes and gave a small, shy smile. My name? Your Majesty wants to know my name? My name’s—

“Patroclus.” Percy muttered to himself. Chiron stood firmly where he stood, but what little color he had on his face fled.

“What was that?”

“Patroclus. His name was Patroclus.” The teacher of heroes rose up to his full height. His face turned stony so that his grief could not cloud his features.

“I see.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Perhaps you should rest. Go home for the afternoon. It is clear that you have been working yourself too hard. Others can train the children.”

“But Chiron, it’s a Friday! Annabeth won’t be back at the house until six! I came here—”

“Please, Percy.” There was a pleading note in the immortal’s voice. Percy found himself nodded in spite of himself. As Chiron turned away, Percy asked one more question.

“Did you know him, Chiron?”

The man stopped short and his shoulders hunched forward. “He was my pupil. They both were.”

“They?”

“Rest, Percy.” Percy couldn’t bring himself to argue anymore. Instead, he shut his eyes and let the world mute around him.

……………………………………………………..

If there was one thing that Percy loved about Annabeth’s and his house, it was that it was right on the ocean. Every morning, he could step outside and watch sea-nymphs and hippocampus tumble and play just beneath the waves. Without fail, they would wave to him the minute that they saw him. While the house was on the smaller side, it had probably cost a fortune. His father had given it to them as a wedding gift and wouldn’t accept “no” for an answer. “Just be sure to bring the grandchildren to visit me when they are old enough.” He had whispered with a smile. Percy hadn’t been able to resist hugging him at that point.

The wedding in itself had been a quieter affair, with only close friends and Olympians invited. Hades had also been sent an invitation for Nico, but the request went left unanswered. Percy tried not to let the silence get to him. After all, no one had heard from Nico for the past three years. They knew that he was with his father in the Underworld, but besides that he had all but disappeared after Gaea had been defeated. All Iris Messages went left unanswered, all attempts to go find him had fallen through the cracks. Nico was a raw subject for everyone. Still, Percy wondered what he had done so wrong to make Nico dislike him so much.

“Hey Wise Girl, I’m home!” Percy called, throwing his bag down in the foyer. There was no response, so he assumed that she was out looking at architecture in the city. That meant that she probably wouldn’t be home for another 2 hours or so. Smiling, he tugged off his sweatshirt and made his way to the backyard. The sound was calm and simmering in the afternoon light. Percy’s bare feet hit the dock running.

The water was a welcome relief, cold and refreshing. It didn’t matter that it was only in the fifties outside. It didn’t matter that Percy had been forced to work overtime, or that his boss looked down on him because he was still working on finishing his bachelor’s degree in Ocean Science. Nothing beyond the surface of the water held any pertinence now that hippocampi were circling him like over-reactive puppies.

Percy smiled and dove deeper, more than willing to play a couple rounds of Catch-the-Demigod-Just-Don’t-Eat-Him. After about thirty minutes of swimming, Percy looked around to find himself in one of the many underground caverns of the sound. The hippocampi were growing agitated, snorting and throwing their heads. “Hey, what’s wrong?” Percy asked, though the horses didn’t answer. They took off, swimming back the way that they had come. Percy frowned and reached for Riptide. If it was yet another sea monster, he was going to very annoyed.

Slowly, he headed toward the dimly lit surface of the water. The cavern was damp, but surprisingly warm. There was a woman waiting for him on the beach.

Only her feet were in the water, but she seemed out of place on land. Her eyes were as murky as the ocean floor and her skin was the exact shade of pale green that the light was when it pierced through the waves after a storm. Her dress was made of silk and rippled around her ankles in the water. She watched him, cautiously hardened and perhaps a little lonely. Her long black hair was flowing freely down her back and shoulders. She was both beautiful and terrifying. She was regal as a goddess and as broken as a mother who was all alone in the world.

In her arms, she held a shield made of many metals and engravings. Slowly, carefully, she set the weapon down on the ground in the shallow water. Never once did her eyes leave the demigod’s. Perhaps it was just Percy’s imagination, but right before she disappeared, her lips tilted upward into what could have been a ghost of a smile.

……………………………………………………..

The minute Percy’s head broke the surface of the water, he gulped down air and stared up at the clouded sky. The clouds flowed by, lazy and serene. It was almost peaceful. The son of Poseidon tilted his head back and floated lazily at the top of the water, enjoying the undulating motion of the waves.

It was the shifting in the clouds that made the son of the sea god turn his attention back to the beach. Someone was watching him and wow, he hadn’t seen that face in at least three years. Percy made a beeline for the dock and pulled himself out of the water. He let go of the shield, letting it clatter against the wooden panels. “Nico? Is that you?”

The son of Hades didn’t say anything. Percy felt worry run through his system at the thought that the boy was hurt. He did a quick once over, and came to the startling conclusion that the other demigod was physically fine. If only the same could be said about his mental state. His eyes were fixated on the metal circle on the ground. His gaze was glazed over and he looked like he was about to collapse from lack of sleep. His sword was hanging on his too-boney hip. He swayed on his feet.

Percy frowned and immediately made his way over to the younger boy. He hesitated before placing his hands on Nico’s shoulders, but the dark-haired boy didn’t seem to notice. Instead, his misted eyes shifted toward the sea. “There were supposed to be ships here.” His voice was a croak, as if he hadn’t used it in a long time. “The ships. There were ships here, Achilles.” That name tumbled from Nico’s lips and began to ring around in Percy’s head, uncomfortably. It made him think of the clashing of blades and the dripping of blood. It reminded him of times of war. Of a brave and passionate woman staring down conspiring whispers of scandal and depravity. Of a gentle and skilled warrior who wished for peace but would don a sword immediately if only to remain by his side. Wait, what?

The older demigod winced as a sharp pain shot through his head as the name continued resonate. Nico slumped into Percy, his long and spindly fingers curling into the Great Hero’s sleeves. He looked exhausted. His eyes were closed and surrounded by a dark purple circles. “H-Hey man, don’t go to sleep here. It’s too cold out here. Besides, you don’t even like me. If you wake up to me carrying you to the house, you’ll probably punch me in the face. I don’t want a black eye. Come on, Nico… Nico? Zeus sandals, fine, but you don’t get to inflict bodily damage on me if you wake up in an uncomfortable position.” With a confused and more than slightly agitated huff, the son of Poseidon moved the son of Hades into his arms and made his way back to the house.

……………………………………………………..

Percy was lying on the couch, spread eagle, when Annabeth got home. He looked incredibly tired, confused, and more than a little worried. “Everything alright there?” She asked, walking over to place a kiss on his temple. Percy couldn’t help himself when he pulled her back down for a proper kiss.

“Nico’s passed out on the guest room bed and a weird sea nymph gave me a shield.”

Annabeth felt shocked despite herself. “Wait. Nico? As in Nico, son of Hades, I-Hate-My-Life-And-I-Hate-You, Nico? Mr. I-Kind-Of-Crushed-Three-Giants-In-An-Earthquake-Because-They-Tried-To-Lay-A-Hand-On-My-Sister? That Nico?”

“Yeah, seems about right.”

“Didn’t he leave to help his father with Underworld business?”

“Thought so too.”

“Oh, okay then. You might want to IM Hazel later so that she can talk to him. Apparently, he hasn’t been answering any of her messages.” For about two and a half years. Why was he suddenly appearing on the surface world again? Why was he there? “Is Nico staying for dinner; I only bought two hamburgers.”

“Think so.”

“I’ll reheat the pizza for him, then.”

“Wise-girl, he’s a snooty Italian. I’m pretty sure that he’d take that as a capital offense and would put a sinkhole under our house.”

“You’ll get the pizza, then.”

“But Annabeth, that’s my cheeseburger.”

“Tough luck, hero. Now where is this shield that you were talking about?”

“In the kitchen.” Percy grumbled, throwing an arm over his eyes.

Sure enough, it was lying across the table like a large metal placemat. Annabeth only had to study it for three seconds to know exactly what it was. She took a shaky breath in and released it slowly, because that was Achilles’s shield and that was hitting a bit too close to home for her. She spun on her heels and marched right back through the dining room and into the den. “Who was the woman who gave it to you? What did she look like?” Percy flinched at her serious tone and flipped over onto his stomach. His eyes were worried.

“Everything okay?”

“What did she look like?”

“Long black hair, green silk toga, really pale with red lips?” Annabeth felt her nose twitch. So it was a sea nymph. Okay. There were lots of sea nymphs in the ocean. It totally didn’t have to be Thetis. Nope. Any old sea nymph could have found Achilles’s shield and decided to give it to the person who just might be his unknowing reincarnation. Okay, this wasn’t so bad. It wasn’t bad, it wasn’t…. Oh yeah right, who was she trying to kid?

“Did she say anything to you?”

“Nope, why? Is everything alright? Maybe it’s a gift from my dad.”

“Maybe,” Annabeth agreed, still feeling twitchy and nervous.

“You don’t think it is.” Percy said, rising into a sitting position. “Annie? Talk to me.”

“Have you been having any weird dreams?” Percy titled his head, confused at her question.

“Like demigod dreams?”

“Kind of?” Annabeth sighed and twirled one of her blonde curls around her fingers. Percy bit his lip and thought. “Never mind,” She whispered, her lips already forming a smile. “So, how was your day?” She asked. Percy’s eyes, however, were still clouded.

“I collapsed while fighting Jason.”

Annabeth stopped short. While passing out wasn’t the most abnormal thing to happen to them, lately (You’d be surprised just how many goddesses and gods would be willing to knock you unconscious to ask you for aid on a quest), it wasn’t exactly a healthy thing to do. “What?! You idiot, what did you do?”

“Aw, come on Wise-girl, why does it always have to be something I did?” Percy smiled, knowing that Annabeth worried more than she let on. He could see the concern in her eyes and grinned to alleviate it.

“Because you always manage to get into trouble!” Almost against her will, Annabeth relaxed.

“But I don’t try to! Trouble comes looking for me!”

“Did you just try to quote Harry Potter at me?” Percy could only grin sheepishly at his girlfriend, running a hand through his already messy hair. Annabeth rolled her eyes and smiled. Everything was fine. Everything was o—

“Hey Wise-Girl, who’s Patroclus?” Damn it.

“Why?” She tried not to let the whine creep into her voice. She really did. It didn’t work.

Percy leaned back so that he could watch his partner with concerned and slightly hesitant eyes. “Don’t freak out okay?”

“Percy, when you say don’t freak out, the first thing I should do is freak out. It’s a law of nature with you.”

“Okay, okay, it’s just, well, when I passed out, I kind of had a… dream?”

“A dream? Like a mystical magical demigod dream, or just a normal old dreaming dream?”

“I’m guessing that it was the first one?”

“You guess?”

“Well, it wasn’t really a dream so to say. It was just a bunch of pictures and scenes mashed up together.”

“About what?”

“A palace by the sea… and a boy.”

“A boy?”

“Yeah,” Percy scratched at the beginnings of his beard. “A boy with dark hair, scraped knees, and a smile that was big enough to embrace his whole world.” Here, he stopped short, almost as if he was lost in thought. He shook his head and continued “When Chiron asked me who I thought he was, the only name that I could come with was Patroclus.”

Annabeth sat down on the arm of the couch. “Patroclus was a Greek hero who fought in the Trojan War. He was Achilles’s beloved comrade.” She stopped short when Percy frowned thoughtfully. “Please tell me that you remember who Achilles is.”

“Of course I do! His mother dipped him into the River Styx in an attempt to make him invincible. I had that curse Wise Girl, have some faith in me. I know some of our family’s fairytales.”

“Obviously not enough, Seaweed Brain.” Annabeth chuckled, flicking him in between the eyes before kissing the spot to soothe hurt feelings. “If you know who he is then why do you have that look on your face?”

“Nico called me Achilles when he saw me. He was… really out of it. Kept mumbling something about ships and then he said that name. It retriggered the images too. That time I saw both the boy and a woman.”

“…A woman…” Annabeth breathed, her eyes misting over. She bit at the skin of her knuckle and closed her eyes. She bit her lip and took a chance. “Hey, Percy?”

“Huh?”

“What are your thoughts on rebirth?”

The son of Poseidon shrugged. “I know it’s a thing. Isn’t it like, if you do it three times and become a hero in each life you get to go to the Isles of the Blessed?”

“That’s what Luke wanted to do, yeah.” The air took on a heavier, more solemn air for a minute as the couple got lost in their own memories.

“Do you think that we were heroes in a past life?”

“Well, seeing as we are all having these random dreams, I might say so.”

“Who’d I be?” Green-gray eyes looked up at her from a mop of dark hair. Annabeth threw a pointed look at the shield on the ground and placed a hand on her hips.

“Achilles.” Annabeth said. Percy gave an almost unperceivable flinch at the name.

“Think I’d rather be Patroclus. Wasn’t Achilles like a major douche?”

“Most heroes were at the time. It the pride thing.”

“Still, Patroclus is better.”

Annabeth opened her mouth to retort, before realizing that he was right. Then she sighed, “Sorry, Percy, can’t see you as him.”

“Aw, why not?”

“You’re a leader, not a follower.”

“I’m a delinquent.” Annabeth rolled her eyes at the faint touch of pride in Percy’s voice, because, of course, her boyfriend would be proud of the fact that he got kicked out of nearly every school he went to. Of course.

“Yes, and a doofus.”

“You love me.”

“Unfortunately, I do.” Annabeth thought for a moment, then asked “Didn’t you and Nico talk to Achilles before you bathed in the River Styx?”

“No. Nico tried to get him to show up but… he wasn’t there.”

“Huh. Well then.”

“Who are you, then?”

Annabeth thought for a moment, uncertain of how to respond, before saying, “Well… if you are Achilles, then I’d probably be Briseis.” She didn’t like the taste of the name. The woman in her dream had been defiantly too prideful with too many sharp edges. No one would wish to be her.

“So, you are… Briseis,” Percy whispered, cradling Annabeth’s cheek. He whispered the name like a prayer and for just a minute, his eyes sharpened to the ones that she had seen in her dreams. She smiled and nodded as he swept his thumb across her cheekbone. “and I am Achilles.”

“Right in one, Seaweed Brain.”

“But, wait. Nico seems to be having these problems too, Annabeth. Who’s—” Percy looked into the hallway, to where the bedroom was. As the house filled with silence, it was almost possible to hear Nico’s soft, rhythmic breathing. He thought back to soft but dark eyes that could easily be mirrored by Nico’s sharp as shards of obsidian glare. “Oh.” Annabeth nodded, sympathetic to their predicament.

Percy bit at his lip. “Right. So… what now? What are we supposed to do?”

“Act normal.”

“Act normal… ‘kay. Tell me, how are we supposed to do that? We just figured out that we are the modern reincarnations of tragic Greek heroes.”

“I hope that you don’t think that this is the weirdest thing that has ever happened to us.”

“’Course not… it’s just that I’m more than a little scared about how Nico will react.” Percy muttered, scratching at his hairline. Annabeth tilted her head and looked up at her boyfriend. “He hates me, Annabeth.”

The girl twitched her nose. “I don’t think he does.” She finally responded.

……………………………………………………..

It was a good six hours before there was even a peep from the guest bedroom. Even then, Nico didn’t emerge. As they were going to bed, Percy placed the reheated foot at the food of the door and knocked his knuckles against the wood. “Hey—Nico… I’m leaving some food here for you. Please eat.” There was no sign of life from behind the door, so Percy turned away. There was a distinct ‘thump’. Percy stopped short.

“Nico?” There was silence following Percy’s question. It was a hung over the Fulfiller of the Great Prophesy like a stalking monster, ready to pounce at any given moment. “Nico? Are you okay?” Percy made his way back to the door. His hand reached for the doorknob. The minute that his hand touched the cold metal, however, the ground underneath his feet let loose a tremor and the door locked. Percy swallowed and tried not to let the other boy’s mood get to him. He sighed.

“If you need anything, man, we’re down the hall.” There was silence. Behind the door, and out of Percy’s sight, Nico was curled up with his knees tucked up to his chest with his ear pressed against the wood of the door. He refused to let himself look upon the other man, knowing that if he did, there would no escape. Patroclus had tethered himself to Achilles’s side. Where ever the warrior had gone, his friend followed. When their names were spoken, they were always connected with an ‘and’. They were extensions of each other. Or perhaps it was only that Patroclus was an extension of Achilles. That made Nico’s chest constrict. He was the only one of the trio who remembered his death. Dying was painful. Dying for someone else was worse because then you were conscious that you were leaving them to fend for themselves.

Nico remembered that agony. He refused to let himself go through it again. So, he hid himself away and only let himself listen to the one voice that could lull him into a peaceful slumber. He fell asleep again, resting his head against the door, praying to any god that listen, asking them to just let Percy walk by again.

……………………………………………………..

When morning came, the door to the room was open. The bed was made and the plates had been cleaned and placed back into the cabinet. There was a sticky note on the mirror, with one word inscribed in sharpie on it. Thanks. Percy could only smile softly. There were three crumbled notes in the trashcan, each one with a longer sentence scribbled out with thick black ink. Annabeth could only wonder what the words the son of Hades had placed underneath the smudges.

……………………………………………………..

Now, over the next few weeks, it became clear that Nico had developed a system of ‘safe-houses’, i.e. the houses of the seven. At random times (normally during the night), he would pop into these few and sparse lodgings and collapse onto the couch or guest bed. Often times, he was gone before the inhabitants woke up. So, perhaps Percy should have expected the confrontation that would come when he woke up from yet another nightmare, with Annabeth’s hands on his shoulders as she tried to wake him, gasping for breath, and a soft voice still ringing in his ear that, “Percy, Percy, look at me. It was only a dream. It was only a dream. You’re safe. Everyone’s safe. I’m here. Percy, Percy—” He hadn’t even noticed when Nico rushed into the room with tangled hair and terrified eyes. His hand gripped at the handle of his sword tightly. He hadn’t noticed. He was too busy trying to get air into his lungs. He was too caught up in trying to get as far away from the edge of the bed as he could because it was dark there and darkness only led to pain.

It was only when the shadows of the room shifted away from the son of Poseidon that the couple on the bed took notice of the intruder. When they did, he was standing in the darkest corner of the room, just a step away from the door. His eyes glimmered like embers, unsure with the flickers of panic still lingering in them. He looked like a shadow of the past. Perhaps that was why, when Percy opened his mouth, the name that came out was as disjointed as a long forgotten memory. “Patroclus.”

The room was silent for a moment’s time. Nico had gone completely still. He wasn’t even breathing. His eyes were wide and terrified and loyal and—“A-Achilles,” The aborted step that Nico took forward was enough to make Percy unfreeze. He found that he didn’t mind that name as much when Nico said it.

While Percy was the first to move, it was Annabeth who reached out toward the child of Hades. Her gray eyes were analytical and calculating, as if she was documenting every single step that the Ghost King took. Nico swallowed and stared at her outstretched hand with hesitation and fear. Annabeth understood his distrust and stayed where she was, unmoving, giving him every chance she could for him to decline. With a shaky exhale, Nico stumbled toward them on weak legs. He didn’t actually make it to the bed. He could only make himself reach Percy’s side before sitting down with a huff. He looked up to see two inquisitive sets of eyes and shook his head. Within ten seconds’ time, he found himself surrounded three pillows and two blankets. He bit at his bottom lip before going about making a nest for himself. When he was finished and settled, he found Percy reaching a hand down from the bed. Nothing was said between the two men. But there was a nervous glint in the son of Poseidon’s eyes and his palm was clammy. Nico didn’t care. As he closed his eyes, he felt Percy interlocking their fingers loosely. There were no more nightmares that night. Only dreams of laughter and battles that were won. That was the first morning, that when Annabeth woke up, Nico was still fast asleep on the floor.

……………………………………………………..

Now, it wasn’t like Nico never left after that. It was more along the lines of he came by more. Much more. And stayed there longer. The guest bed was always ready and Annabeth had taken to cooking three portions instead of two.

None of the seven really thought anything of it. They were just happy that Nico had found someplace that he was happy staying at in between the quests that he did for his father. So, truth be told, everything was good. That was, until a mortal college of Annabeth’s dropped by early to do some crash course studying for an exam on Baroque Architecture, only to find her friend patching up a bloody and barely conscious, dark-haired boy who was definitely not Percy.

“Hey Annabeth are you—Oh my god, is he okay?! What happened? Was he mugged?!” Allison’s voice was shrill and made Annabeth jump. In a bout of the famously quick thinking that she was known for, Annabeth threw a towel down to cover the shield that Percy had still not put away, and pushed Nico’s sword out of his reach. The boy was still high on the adrenaline that came with being chased six blocks by a pride of griffins, and was twice as jumpy as normal on account of being clawed at multiple times before he managed to bring the beasts down, one by one. The last thing that Annabeth needed to have to deal with, would be having to explain to Allison why a strange goth kid tried to beat her head in with a black metal bat because she got too close to him for comfort.

“W-What are you doing here so early?” All right, so maybe that wasn’t the best question to ask in response to the other girl’s nearly tangible horror, but it was all that Annabeth could come up with. Nico was watching her every movement with a sort of dazed amazement. He had been quiet ever since he arrived on their doorstep, doubled over and clutching at his head. When he saw that she was the only one home, there was no disappointment in his eyes. In fact, there was something akin to relief. He had spoken her old name in a choked off whisper and that had been enough to send her rushing to get medical supplies. Achilles may have been the glue that had held them together, but Briseis had cared for Patroclus with as much of her heart as she could.

“You said to come at five, but who cares about that?! You have a bloody teenager in your kitchen! He needs to go to a hospital! He might have a concussion!”

“I’ve had worse.” Nico mumbled, which made Annabeth glare at him, because that was the worst thing to say.

“What?! Are you in an abusive relationship or…” The glare that Annabeth sent the other woman was enough to make her go quiet. Nico was beginning to fidget.

“I-I can leav—”

“Shut up. You can barely move. You stay right where you are, or I swear upon each and every god—” Annabeth cut herself off to stare at the newcomer and sighed. “Can we get together later?”

Allison was hesitant, but nodded when she saw the glint of madness in the new boy’s gaze. Annabeth walked her back to her car. As soon as they got outside, Allison turned to look at the blonde woman.

“So… he’s—”

“A friend.”

“And by “friend” you mean?”

“Not sure what you mean.”

“You looked at him the same way you do Percy.” Annabeth stopped in her tracks. Allison took in her slack features and wide eyes and adjusted the straps on her book-bag. “I’ll see you later. Call me when you want to get together to go over the notes.” With a final nod, the mortal girl left Annabeth standing in the middle of the driveway.

……………………………………………………..

When the woman forced herself to go back inside, she found Nico lying across the counter, his head cushioned on his arms, and his knees pulled up to his chest. With a sigh, Annabeth shut the door. “Casper, you better not be getting any blood on my countertops.”

“Mmph,” Nico mumbled, tiredly lifting his head to look at the daughter of Athena.

She felt her features relax, almost against her will. “Come on, it’s time for you to go to bed.”

“I’d rather stay here.”

“Bed.”

“But moving—” Annabeth never thought that she would see the day when Nico di Angelo whine. Must be the blood loss.

“Fine. Stay there. But when Percy comes home, I’ll make him move you.” There was a slight perking of ears at the son of Poseidon’s name and Annabeth raised an eyebrow. “Then again, I’m pretty sure that you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Nico tensed at her words and the shadows of the room flickered. There was a frightened glint in his eyes and even though she had to say that she kind of expected being right, Annabeth still felt as though someone had punched her in the stomach. “Oh…” The word rushed out of her lungs as her throat constricted. She watched the scene unfold before her and quickly started backpedalling because she knew the signs of frantic panic that were dawning on Nico’s features. “Not that I care.”

“W-What do you mean?”

“I don’t care.”

Nico rose into a sitting position, his fingers clinching into fists. His dark curls fell in front of his eyes and the shadows crept ever closer to him. Annabeth was having none of it. Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward and wrapped her fingers around his wrist to keep him tethered to his spot. His pulse thudded quickly and sporadically underneath her thumb. He held his breath when she tightened her grip.

She took in the way that his skin was becoming paler by the minute, and they way that his body tensed, almost as though he were expected her to attack him. Instead of speaking, she hopped up to sit beside him. With a gentleness that he had only seen her use with Percy, she brushed his bangs out of his eyes. “You need to get those cut.” She whispered, her voice soft.

He just continued to stare at her, struck dumb. Then, a dark look clouded his features. He jerked away from the woman and pushed himself off of where he had been resting. He landed solidly on the ground, true to form, but the wince of pain that shuddered through his body did not go unnoticed. “Nico,” Annabeth started, reaching out to get him to stop. The minute that her fingers brushed his skin, he leapt back, causing the shadows to jump with him.

“Don’t touch me!” He hissed, his voice thick with fear and something else. “D-Don’t—”

“What’s wrong? Where are you going?”

“I shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t want for me to be here. I need to leave.”

“Why in Hades do you think that we don’t what you here?!”

“You-”

“No! Bullshit! That’s utter bullshit and you know it! You know that we want for you to stay! You’re the one who’s making you leave! You’ve been making yourself run away for years and you’re not going to stop now. You’re not ever going to stop and we won’t know the reason because you refuse to talk about it! I told you that I didn’t care. Percy wouldn’t care!”

“What do you want for me to do?!” Nico finally shouted, throwing his hands up into the air. “Watch on from the sidelines as you two have a perfect relationship?!” His voice was laced with bitter anger. It made Annabeth take a step back.

“Nico—”

“No! I refuse to have to go through that every day! I’ve had enough pain in my life already! I don’t want to have to go through anymore than I have to!” It was clear that his anger was quickly fading and was being replaced with broken desolation. “I don’t want to hurt anymore, Breseis.” His voice was a whisper, but he stood still, gripping at one of the cuts that had reopened.

“Patroclus… you’re hurting yourself more.” Annabeth whispered, deciding that it wouldn’t be the best time to call him out on calling her the wrong name. With slow and calculated steps, the woman made her way to the younger man. Again, she reached out for him, though this time she hesitated before touching him. She made him come to her.

Nico was as skittish as a stray, and it took him a few tries to let himself get close enough to her again so that she could look at the bleeding claw marks. This time, he let her do what she would, he just let himself relax against the warmth of her fingers. At some point in time, he fell asleep with his head resting against the overhang that came down over the stove. His hand was clinched into a fist and was gripping at the corner of Annabeth’s sleeve. He looked so tired. Annabeth let out a huff before moving him to the couch.

……………………………………………………..

When Percy got home, he found his lover flicking through the pages of a textbook with one hand, while her other carded through Nico’s dark curls. The boy’s head was resting against her lap, his hand still clasping at her sweater. When Percy had opened the door, Annabeth’s gaze shot up to meet his. She looked pointedly at the empty arm chair to the left of her seat. Quietly, Percy moved to where she indicated. “What’s going on?” He whispered.

“We need to talk about Nico.” She said, waving her book over the slumbering teen.

“What about him? Is he alright?”

“He’s never been alright.” Annabeth huffed, almost sadly. Percy conceded her that point.

“What’s wrong then?”

Annabeth started, and then stopped herself. On the second try, she managed to speak. “What are your feelings toward him?”

“Huh?”

“Think long and hard about you answer this question.”

Percy bit at his top lip while he thought and shifted in his seat. “I-I care about him and I want for him to be happy.” He thought back to the way that Nico’s hand had wrapped around his, the way that their fingers slotted together perfectly. He remembered the flicker of pained hope that had sputtered to life in Nico’s listless brown eyes when Percy smiled down at him. He felt a blush crawl up his cheeks and could only wonder what in Hades that was all about.

“So you think of him as a little brother?”

“N-No, not exactly, it’s just… well, I never thought about him in any other way. Why the sudden interest?”

Annabeth thumbed her nose with the tip of her book (which Percy could now see was an in-depth analysis of The Illiad, because why not?). He thought back to the few memories that he had unearthed and oh. Okay then.

……………………………………………………..

The tide was incredibly low for how late in the evening it was. The stars were even out. Nico wasn’t sure how he had managed to wander off to the house’s dock without noticing, but somehow, he had. He found himself dangling his feel off the edge of the wooden structure, his toes barely skimming over the water with each crest of the waves. In his past life, Patroclus had always found comfort in the sea breeze and thick air, perhaps Nico was drawing from that. With a sigh, he closed his eyes and leaned back so that his back was resting against the planks.

“You alright over there, boy?” The Ghost King jumped to his feet, reaching for his sword, only to remember that he didn’t have it because it was inside. The question had come from a lone man about one hundred yards away who Nico definitely hadn’t noticed when he had walked outside (not that he was really paying all that much attention to his surroundings at the moment). The older male was sitting back in a wooden fishing chair, as relaxed in his surroundings as a king was in his castle. His face was weathered and worn, and his black hair was peppered with graying strands, but he still was ruggedly handsome. Nico swallowed and shook his head to clear it of that thought.

“What are you doing here? I thought this was private property.”

Sea green eyes crinkled around the corners and a smile toyed at the man’s lips. “What’s your business with the Jacksons?” He asked, ignoring the boy’s statement. Nico remained silent at the questioning, mainly due to the fact that he didn’t really know the answer.

“With all due respect, sir, I am not sure that is any of your business.” If the fisherman had smiled at the last statement, he all out laughed at this one.

“Humor an old man, boy.” The Fisherman indicated for Nico to sit down on the dry sand beside him, and for some reason, Nico didn’t feel as though it was wise to refuse him. With an audible huff, he lowered himself to the ground and crossed his legs.

“I don’t know what I’m doing here.” Nico finally managed to bring himself to say.

“Isn’t that the problem with fate?” The man chuckled.

“For some more so than others.” Nico grumbled.

“Isn’t that the truth?” The Fisherman agreed, his eyes twinkling. He breathed out, and reeled his line back in. With a calm flick of his wrist, he cast the hook back out into the waves. Nico watched the piece of metal sink back underneath the waves.

“Aren’t you supposed to fish at high tide?”

“Most people do, though, if there is anything that I have learned in my years, it’s that the best things only come years after you hoped they would, and when you least expect it. Hence, why I am doing this now.” He nodded his head toward his line. Nico tilted his head. “So, tell me, what are your opinions of the Jackson?”

“Why?”

The man rolled his eyes in a way that explicitly reminded Nico of Percy for some reason. “Because, it seems like you need to talk to someone about them.” Nico felt his eyes go wide and desperately hoped that he wasn’t as obvious as the man put him out to be.

“They’re…” Nico trailed off, looking down at his sand covered feet. What were they? His family (Well, technically, they were, but he really only considered Hazel and his father (for all his faults) his relatives)? His friends (No, no, Jason was a friend, perhaps, what they were was something different)? His lov—(No. No. No. No. He shouldn’t even let himself finish that thought. No matter what Annabeth said, that was a bad thought. A really bad thought.)

“They are…?”

“…My home.” Nico muttered, wanting to bury his head in his hands, because otherwise there would be no true answer that he could give.

The Fisherman hummed his eyes contemplative and thoughtful. He buried his toes beneath the sand and for just one minute’s time, the tide seemed to increase. “I suppose,” He said finally, muttering the words so that they could barely be heard over the crash of the waves, “That your explanation is good enough for me.” With those words, he rose into a standing position and began to reel in his line. He stood up to his full height and had an air of grace and pride that Nico had not been expecting. With a flick of his wrist, the fishing-pole lengthened and lightened into a soft gold. The tip split into three prongs. The waters of the ocean rushed to touch his feet. He looked down at the son of Hades with an understanding that only came from living an innumerable amount of years.

“Lord Poseidon—”

“Go back to your ‘home’, Nico di Angelo. I am sure that they are getting worried that you have left.” With a flash of light and a departing smile, the man was gone before Nico could respond.

……………………………………………………..

It was a well-known fact that Friday night was Movie Night. It was a tradition that had started up three months after Nico had started coming around regularly and had been followed religiously. It was an unspoken rule that it started at six, and that you better not show up late under pain of death. There was also a very loudly spoken rule that there would be no repeating of movies. Which was what caught Nico’s attention when Percy started playing Finding Nemo again. He decided not to mention it. He also didn’t speak up when Percy flopped back down on the couch beside him, completely comfortable with the close proximity. He didn’t think to push away when the son of Poseidon slung an arm around his bony shoulders and toyed with the end of one of his curls. He just shook his head and curled up to rest against the other man. He savored the warmth of the moment, closing his eyes, and breathed in deeply. He didn’t notice the small hopeful smile that toyed at Percy’s lips as he craned his head up to look at Annabeth, who returned from the kitchen baring gifts.

Nico jumped when the bowl of popcorn fell into his lap, only to curl around it protectively when Annabeth flopped down beside Percy and threw her feet up to rest on Nico’s right thigh. He looked over at her with an arched eyebrow. She wiggled her toes in defiance as the movie started.

……………………………………………………..

By the time that the credits of the third movie came scrolling across the screen, it was three a.m. and Annabeth was passed out, gripping Percy’s arm in a death grip. Nico was nodding off against Percy’s chest, concentrating on the older demigod’s steadily beating heart. Each gust of Percy’s breath rustled Nico’s hair. For a while, they all just stayed there, not moving, not speaking, and not caring about the world outside.

Percy was the first to move. “Zeus,” he groaned, rubbing the sleep off his face. “I think it’s time to go to bed.” Nico grumbled at the noise and nuzzled his way underneath the son of Poseidon’s chin. Annabeth gave the fulfiller of the Great Prophesy a sharp kick to the shin, which did nothing to quiet him down. Thankfully, his complaining and whining managed to rouse the other two enough so that he didn’t have to carry them to the bedroom. He just sort of had to drag them there. So, when they stumbled through the master bedroom’s door like a six legged monster, Percy was just proud that none of them had fallen. He let Annabeth fall onto her side of the bed, and watched her curl up on her side with a fondness that would never grow old. He jumped onto his side of the bed and scampered underneath the covers. He turned his attention back to Nico.

The son of Hades was looking from the queen sized bed to his nest on the floor with a mixture of apprehension and hope. He stayed by the doorway, much the way that he had when the whole thing started. Percy rose into a sitting position and reached out. “Nico?” His voice was nothing more than a whisper, but this time, there was a smile gracing his lips. He watched the tension bleed out of Nico’s hunched shoulders. He could only grin as he pulled Nico down beside him. He huffed as the teen shuffled around, trying to get comfortable. A couple minutes after Nico stilled, Percy shifted so that his fingers would be brushing Annabeth’s, as they always did when they slept together. The movement jarred Nico because, well, let’s be honest, the bed wasn’t exactly made for three people.

“Achilles?”

“’S Percy now.”

“Percy…” The boy muttered blearily, before deciding that talking wasn’t worth the effort and trailed off. Percy pushed the younger man’s bangs out of his eyes and wondered when he had gotten so accustomed to someone besides Annabeth being so close to the small of his back. He decided to leave that sort of thinking for the morning.

……………………………………………………..

Okay… so morning was a rough estimate. None of them actually woke up before 1:30. The only reason that any of them actually got out of bed, as for the fact at 1:29, Hazel decided to I.M. Nico in an attempt to figure out why he was late for brunch. Her squeak of embarrassed shock ended with Annabeth falling out of bed, Percy getting kicked in the nose, and Nico burying himself under the covers and pillows in a desperate attempt to salvage the few remaining scraps of his dignity. Needless to say, he was gone and out the door (portal) by 1:40.

After that escapade, neither Annabeth nor Percy were expecting to see him later that night, or even that week, but seven hours later, when they arrived home from eating out, he was sitting on the sofa, eating a (small, so small, Zeus, the kid still ate next to nothing, no wonder he was a stick) bowl of cold mac-and-cheese.

“Nico! I wasn’t expecting to see you back!”

“It’s not like I had any other places to go.” Nico rolled his eyes at the couple’s twin looks of confusion. “As of right now, I can’t look Hazel in directly in the eye without blushing; she mentioned something to Frank who, in turn, probably whispered something to Leo, who’s staying with Piper and Jason for a week, and don’t even get me started on what Reyna might say if she caught wind of this.”

Nico looked down at his hands, a light blush spreading up his neck and cheeks. Percy let out a small laugh, if only to ease the tenseness of the air. “Well then, would you like something else for dinner?”

The Ghost Kind nodded minutely, still picking at his fingernails. It was almost as if he was unable to find the strength to even look up at the couple. Percy took a step towards the kitchen when Nico forced his head up. “What are we doing?” He choked out, his voice strained and scared.

“Huh?”

“This. What is this?” Nico demanded, his bangs falling into his eyes as he circled his pointer finger in between them all. His other hand was clinched into a fist in his lap.

“I’ll just—” Annabeth started moving out of the room, only for Nico to turn his eyes on her.

“You stay right there! You are just as into this as we are!” Nico let out a shaky exhale as he dug his thumbs into his temples. There was a spell of silence, with each of the demigods waiting for the others to respond. Nico was, of course, the one to break out of the trance first. “You haven’t ever cared about me before!”

“Yes we did! We looked everywhere for you after the War! We wanted for you to be a groomsman at our wedding!”

“No! I meant like—t-this.”

“What do you want for us to say?” Annabeth was the one who spoke up, knowing that Percy wasn’t going to get anywhere with Nico, mainly due to the fact that Nico had learned how to tune out his words of concern ages ago.

“Just tell me that this isn’t a fucking game to you!”

That made both of the older demigods stop short. “What?” they said in unison, twin looks of surprise etched onto their faces. Nico didn’t look up. If one looked close enough, they could see the way that his muscles were flexed in an attempt to keep from shaking. He took their stunned silence as regret and rushed to his feet. He was reaching down to grab at his jacket when Percy wrapped a hand around his wrist.

“Nico—” Percy reached out, only to be batted away. “We don’t—How could you even think—I-It’s not. Don’t go. Please.” The Italian boy stared down the demigod.

“I have lived in your shadow for the entirety of my existence! What more do you want from me?!” The manic gleam in the son of Hades’ might have frightened a lesser man, but Percy refused to back down again.

“For you to stay here. With us.”

“Why?! You have Annabeth and you don’t need me and—”

“We made it work before.” Annabeth argued, stepping in for Percy, “We’ve done it before!”

“IT WAS WAR!”

Percy finally lost his temper, “And that didn’t change anything! I loved you! I loved you and Breseis and I never wanted for you to go through the pain that you did!” Nico found himself looking into ocean green eyes, rooted to where he stood. He had seen similar, no, identical features clouded with anger and bitterness far too often. Even though it had been so, so long since then, it didn’t matter; he knew that expression with stunning clarity. He wanted to ease the other’s burden, but he didn’t know how because he had put it there. His fingers clinched and unclenched rhythmically, in time with the beating of Percy’s heart. The anger that had been boiling just below the surface was dissipating quickly.

“Hey,” Percy whispered, his voice softer than Nico thought possible. “Look at me for a minute. Please…” Slowly, Nico let himself open his eyes to find himself staring at irises of green and gray. The other man was close enough to him that he could feel the heat radiating off of his skin. Percy opened his mouth and leaned forward, ever so slightly. “Is this okay?” He breathed, his gaze inquisitive. Nico reached up to him to pull him down.

Percy’s lips were slightly chapped from the sea winds and were cooler than Nico imagined (remembered, dreamed of, prayed for, what was the difference anymore?) Nico made a small weak sound, and his mouth opened against Percy’s. He eased his right hand free and moved it to settle against Percy’s waist, holding on with a force that belied the gentleness of the kiss. Percy moved his hand to the nape of Nico’s neck, combing through the dark downy curls.

Nico felt like he was drowning as his fingers scrambled up to grip at the collar of Percy’s t-shirt, because, no, he had no earthy idea what he was doing or how he was doing it, but there was no way that he was going to let it end quickly.

He heard Annabeth laugh faintly in the distance. Her hand ran down his back. “Calm down.” She whispered into his ear, her voice low and thick. “I won’t let him go anywhere.” He swallowed, for how could anyone promise to keep Percy Jackson, the hero who saved the gods twice, anywhere? But her fingers were then running through his hair, and her body was warm against his, and perhaps, perhaps just this once, he could trust someone to keep their word with him. He let his grip on the son of Poseidon (Achilles, his Achilles, Percy) loosen ever so slightly. He felt Percy smile softly against his lips and shivered as the older demigod ran his thumb across the jut of Nico’s cheekbone. Then he began to pull away.

Nico felt the blind stirrings of panic as he immediately trailed after the other teen, not wanting to let him go, not willing to leave him again. Percy gave a small, raspy chuckle before dipping his head down to suck kisses into the juncture of Nico’s neck. “So beautiful, isn’t he, Annabeth?” He whispered, his lips fluttering against sensitive skin. Nico groaned, trying to ignore the stirring in his stomach.

The young woman chuckled softly and the sound of her dress fluttering filled Nico’s ears. “I’m not sure that I should be a part of this conversation, Seaweed Brain.” While there was humor in her tone, there was also a hint of seriousness. Nico forced his eyes open and caught her grey gaze. The first time, he had known Achilles first. It was only fair that she found him first in this life. Who was he to be bitter? With shaking fingers, he bit back not-so-distant memories of jealousy and loneliness, and reached for her. “Stay—” He swallowed after he managed to choke the word out, not expecting to see the fondness pass through the woman’s features. He felt her fingers interlock in his own and all that Nico could try to do was not try to think about which part of him was taking comfort from her presence.

He could only close his eyes as Percy trailed his fingers up his shirt. The air was cool against his skin. He closed his eyes at the sensation of fingertips trailing up and down his ribcage and back appreciatively. The son of Poseidon nipped at the tendon that ran down his neck. Annabeth drapes herself across Percy’s back, smiling cheekily. Her voice is like a siren’s call when she mutters, “Don’t you think we should move this to a different room?” Percy met Nico’s eyes with curiosity. Nico nodded. Percy caught the boy’s grin with his lips and he pulled him forward toward the hallway. Annabeth brushed her lips against both of the boys’ cheeks and grabbed both of their hands.

Not a minute later, she sat on the bed, prim and proper, with the skirt of her dress riding up to bunch around her waist. Percy came to her, hungry and passionate, she met him step for step. They had known each other long enough to be able to predict the way that the other would move. Nico could only watch with a dry mouth as they took their time to make the other fall apart. Just like the first time he had come into the room, Annabeth was the one to reach out for him.

Her curves were soft under his fingers, so unlike Percy’s harsher angles. The touch still helped to settle the nerves that were curling in Nico’s stomach. With trembling finger and hesitant lips, he set out mapping over every inch of her body that he could reach. He took note of every scar, freckle, and imperfection that he could find. Anything that made her breath hitch, he strode away in the back of his mind. At least, he tried to. Percy was making thinking quite difficult as he bit and nibbled at Nico’s ear and neck. All that the son of Hades could do was turn his attention to the other man.

He felt Percy grin against his collarbone and then bite down, causing a whimper to escape his lips. When Percy pulled away with a concerned look on his features, Nico jerked him back down for another bruising kiss. Annabeth made quick work of her dress and Percy’s shirt. She let Nico take off his own.

Nico let himself fall back into Percy’s embrace, not wanting to let himself go to long without the other’s touch, lest he start to think again. He felt hesitant fingers reach for the button of his jeans only to stop. Then they were gone and no one was touching anyone else. All three of them just sort of sat there in a triangle, knocking knees together. Percy opened his mouth to ask the question that was hovering just an inch below the surface in each of their minds. Nico wasn’t have any of it. He reached for them both and could only relax wen Percy finally gave up on asking if he was alright.

……………………………………………………..

The bed was warm and comfortable and Nico was desperately fighting the losing battle to keep his eyes open. His hair was still damp from the shower and smelled like Annabeth’s shampoo. The moon was high in the sky and the other two demigods were fast asleep. Percy’s arm was underneath his neck. When he had been awake and smiling, he had busied his fingers by drawing circles up and down Nico’s neck. Annabeth’s fingers brushed along his side. Nico’s whole body was pleasantly aching. He felt as though he could actually get a full night of sleep if he only let himself close his eyes. This was too good to be true. He didn’t deserve this.

With a grunt, the Italian rose into a sitting position. He flexed his toes beneath the sheets and rubbed at his face. “Fuck.” He grunted, before throwing the covers off. This had been a bad idea. It had been a very bad idea.

Finding his clothes had been the hard part. Actually, it was next to impossible. So, instead, he settled with only finding his pants. He grabbed one of Percy’s old shirts that had been half-hidden underneath the bed and pulled it over his head. It was too big, but there was no time to worry about that. He grabbed his jacket and shoes and was about to leave when he looked back at the slumbering couple.

They looked almost ethereal, what with being bathed in the moonlight from the window. They were curled around each other like comas, unconsciously protecting each other and holding each other close. They deserved each other. Nico felt his lips open and closed against his will, as though he was trying to force out a goodbye but couldn’t bring himself to do so. He didn’t want to leave. No matter how much he needed to, he did not want to. Nico swallowed and spun on his heels. He was in front of the Grace-McLean household within three seconds. With another step into a portal, he crash-landed onto the living room sofa. The leather was cold and it wasn’t soft enough, but it would have to do for the time being.

……………………………………………………..

Piper was the first one to wake up the next morning. Like all mornings, she sluggishly climbed out of bed and stumbled down the hallway to start on coffee. Now, it wasn’t as though she was expecting anything strange, but Leo was also visiting, so she knew to be ready for anything that could be hurled at her. Or thrown at her, or shot at her through a one of Festus’s cannons, or rocket launched towards their house from outer space with only the warning of, “Look out, Beauty Queen!” as a sign to duck in cover.

What she was not ready to find was a sleeping son of Hades curled up on her couch, clinging to the hem of a New York City Aquarium T-shirt that was easily three sizes too large, complete with top notch sex-hair. Coffee could work miracles but it was not going to be able to pull this one off. She blinked at Nico twice before going into the kitchen to scrounge around for something stronger.

By the time Jason made his way into the kitchen, Piper was almost done with her second glass. Jason frowned at her but all she had to do was point into the living room. She watched as her boyfriend’s eyebrows rose a good two inches. “What’s he doing here?” He whispered, making his way over to Piper. The girl smiled at him sleepily and nuzzled his arm.

“I think he’s hiding.” She whispered.

“Why?”

“If the hair and pheromones in the air have anything to say about it, I’d say he got lucky. Or unlucky, seeing as he’s here.”

That made Jason frown, and his eyes darkened to a threatening gray. “Do you think he’s alright? Should I wake hi—”

“I’d let him sleep. He needs it, and I think that if someone tried to pull something on him, he’d kick their ass to the Fields of Punishment and back.” They had all seen the way that Nico had fought in the Final Battle. Only a fool would even think of talking to him in anything but a respectful manner, let alone put a hand on him.

“Then why is he here?”

“Isn’t that the question of the day?” Piper said, taking a swig of Jason’s coffee because, gods damn it, she was not awake enough to deal with their friends’ crazy and more than slightly incestuous love lives. Why, oh why, did being a daughter of Aphrodite mean that she had to be the group’s relationship councilor?

“You know?”

“I can hazard a guess.” At Jason’s expectant stare, Piper sighed, “The t-shirt.” Even from the kitchen, the insignia was clear. Jason stiffened in shock for a minute, then turned to look at his girlfriend. Percy? He mouthed, to which Piper nodded.

“I didn’t know that he and Annabeth had broken up.”

“They haven’t.” Again, Jason’s face took on a darker expression and there was a distant roll of thunder in the sky. Piper began to backtrack. “He also smells like lemon-grass and I know for a fact that some of those bite-marks didn’t come from Percy.”

“Annabeth and Percy?”

“You know that it is rude to talk about people when they are sleeping.” Nico grumbled from his spot on the couch. Both of the demigods in the kitchen jumped, but Nico stubbornly refused to budge from his spot. He was clutching a pillow to his chest and looked all together far too resigned for Jason’s liking. The blonde immediately walked over and settled down on the floor next to the couch.

“What happened?” He asked, his voice tight with concern and discomfort.

“Ask your girlfriend. She seems to know what is going on better than I do.”

“Do you want to talk to her?” The glare that Nico gave Jason was enough of an answer. “Why are you here?”

“Do you want for me to leave?” There was a bitterly steely note in Nico’s voice that made Jason put a hand on the son of Hades’ shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. For once, Nico didn’t shrug it off. In fact, he leaned into the touch ever-so-slightly. That was a little worrisome.

“No, I don’t. I just want to know what’s going on so that I can help.”

“It’s complicated.”

“So?”

“And long.”

“I’ve got time.”

“And spans over the course of more than 3000 years.”

“I—wait—what?”

……………………………………………………..

The story itself took a good two and a half hours. So, when Leo came meandering out of his room two hours and twenty-mine minutes later to Nico saying “…and then we just sort of fell into bed together and—” Jason and Piper just shot the son of Hephaestus looks that promised him a painful demise if he even breathed a word. Leo found himself slowly backing out of the den and into the hallway. The minute he got to his room he shut the door quietly and looked back at his work station.

“And people wonder why I spend so much time in my room.” He tapped out to Festus in Morse code. The dragon head could only click back in agreement.

……………………………………………………..

All was well for about a day. Then, at exactly 9:30 a.m. on the second day, Annabeth Chase showed up on Jason’s doorstep with a steely look in her eyes and her fingers twitching for her sword. Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on how you look at it), neither Piper nor Jason were there. Nico was the one who opened the door, and who immediately tried to close it after seeing who was waiting outside, tapping her toes on the ground.

Annabeth stuck her foot in the door to keep it from shutting. There was a minute’s worth of total silence as Nico tried not to start panicking and Annabeth tried to calm her temper. Finally, Nico managed to steel his courage enough to open the door and stare the daughter of Athena in the eye. She looked tired and stressed, and her hair was in a bun on the top of her head so Nico could venture to guess that she hadn’t showered in the two days that he was gone. Which meant that she and Percy had been looking for him. He tried to swallow the guilt away. It didn’t work.

“We’re going to have to talk about this.” She muttered.

“Can we just forget that it happened?”

“Haha, yeah no, we need to talk. Now.” Annabeth left no room for arguments. Her eyes flashed dangerously and there was a sword at her hip that she knew how to use quite well. Nico shuffled from foot to foot before going into the house to retrieve his jacket.

Before Nico really knew what was going on, he found himself sitting by the Lake with Annabeth, staring out at the glistening water. He snuck a glance at Annabeth, who was glaring steadily at the small waves that lapped at the banks of the body of water.

“Why are you here, Breseis?”

“Annabeth.” The daughter of Athena’s voice was sharp enough to make Nico instantly regret his slip up. He cringed away from her gaze and returned his gaze to the body of water.

“Why are you here, Annabeth?”

“Funny, I could ask you the exact same thing, Nico.”

“I—”

“No. No talking yet. No explanations. I have been awake for a good 36 hours because of you. I want to yell at you before I forgive you, so hush.” She took in a breath before glaring at the son of Hades. “You listen here, Death Breath. You left us, and Gods, I can’t even be mad at you about that. There are too many variables there. Did things get too real too fast for you? Did you not like the fact that I was a part of the relationship? I don’t know! I can’t tell! All that I know is that something made you uncomfortable, so you froze up and left! And that’s fine!”

She didn’t sound fine. She sounded hurt, and Zeus’s Sandals if that didn’t make Nico feel disgusted with himself. Annabeth stopped herself in an attempt to calm herself. “What’s not okay is the way that you left: in the middle of the night with no explanation, no note, not even stopping to say goodbye! We thought that you were happy when we went to sleep. I thought that we were close enough friends that you’d—”

“You are.” Nico cut her off, shakily.

Annabeth ran a hand through her messy hair. “Then why did you leave us like that? I don’t understand.” It looked like it physically pained Annabeth to spit out those last few words. Nico forced himself to swallow.

“People don’t do this, Annabeth. It isn’t done. I-It’s not natural.”

“Natural?” Annabeth asked arching a thin, blonde eyebrow. “Did it not feel natural to you?”

“Normal.” Nico amended.

“Normal…” Annabeth muttered, her eyes clouding over in thought. Suddenly, she began to laugh. Nico jumped at the sound and stared at the young woman. The ringing giggles filled Nico with a wholeness and warmth that he didn’t (couldn’t let himself) understand. “Nico, we are the children of immortal gods who spent most of their early years in bed with each other, regardless of the fact that most of them were siblings. Not only that, but apparently we are also the reincarnations of 3000 year old heroes. We are not normal by any stretch of the word.” Her hand brushed Nico’s and he didn’t want to admit the fact that all he wanted to do was to squeeze each of her fingers and plant a kiss on each knuckle, because, gods, he had never, never, wanted to do a thing like that before the dreams. It was like he had two factions battling for attention in his head and it was up in the air as to who was winning.

“I-I know, it’s just—” Nico’s voice cracked as he crumbled in to a sitting position and brought his head up to his knees. “Hades, how do I explain this?” he muttered, his voice muffled through the fabric of his jeans. He forced himself to look into Annabeth’s startlingly understanding eyes. “I-I’m not sure how much of what I am feeling is actually mine. How much of it is just residue left from… back then?”

Annabeth tilted her head, waiting for Nico to continue. With a gulp of air, he did.

“He called me, Patroclus, Annabeth! He breathed that name into my ear as he laid me out before him and I responded to it! But I am not Patroclus! I am Nico di Angelo, bastard son of Hades, the Ghost King who is destined to die alone because, because…” He trailed off.

“Because everyone who you have ever loved has either left you or died.” Annabeth completed the sentence.

“I was a walking disaster already, and then this whatever the hell this is decided to come along and mess with my brain! My memories and thoughts were all that I had, Bre—Annabeth-fuck!” The ground shook underneath Annabeth as she watched the boy beside her tear himself apart. His fingers dug into his forehead and his nails cut into his skin. His eyes were wild and his breaths were ragged. The daughter of Athena let the shiver run up her spine and knelt down in the grass beside the distraught teen.

“Nico, look at me.” Dark eyes glanced up at her through a cage of fingers. “Percy and I are scared too. We don’t know what’s going on, either—” She shuttered, remembering the nearly empty look in her lover’s eyes as he took in the empty side of the bed that Nico had inhabited not six hours ago. The way that he had looked at her with a certain type of guilt that she had never seen before but knew it was due to actions that he had never really performed. At least, not in that life time. How she had wrapped herself around his shoulders, desperate to comfort him, only for him to walk away after kissing her too gently.

The laugh that left the son of Hades’ lips was bitter and far too close to a sob for Annabeth’s comfort. “You’re good at hiding it then.” He choked out. “Too good.” Annabeth winced. She shuffled over to the younger demigod and took his hands in her own. Nico let her move his fingers away from his face and watched on blankly as she brushed his hair out his eyes.

“This is new for us too, but we know that we can lean on each other—” Annabeth knew that she had said the wrong words when she felt Nico tense. A tremor ran through the earth and for just a second, the world was darker than before. She wrapped a stern hand around Nico’s hand as he rushed to get to his feet. He fell gracelessly back down to the ground and glared at her with a stare of death.

“Let me go.”

“Let me finish the sentence before you run off.”

“I don’t want to hear the rest.”

“Sit down.” Annabeth ordered, making sure to keep her voice calm and collected, even though her thoughts were anything but. Nico did as she asked. His hands were clinched into fists but he remained stony and silent. Annabeth let out a soft breath of relief before she opened her mouth again. “… We can lean on each other. We were hoping that if we tried to include you in our relationship, you’d let yourself lean on us. I see that backfired.”

“I-I just don’t know what to think right now.”

“Percy’s really upset.”

“Did you have to tell me that?!”

“How else were you supposed to know?” Annabeth said, “We don’t want to force you into anything. We never wanted to do that. We just don’t want you to try to go through this by yourself again. You tried that in the beginning, remember?”

“I was—”

“You weren’t even sleeping! Don’t say that you were fine. You weren’t. You aren’t.”

“I don’t want your pity!”

“I’m not giving it to you! Did you not just hear anything that I just said? We’re trying to give you a chance at a family! I’m giving you a chance to not be alone! To be happy!”

“I don’t deserve to be happy!” That one lie was that. Nico soon found Annabeth’s lips on his and a hand in his hair. The kiss was a far cry from chaste and Nico couldn’t get enough of it. When they finally broke apart, they were both gasping for air. Annabeth’s hand was still clutching possessively at Nico’s curls. Gently but surely, Annabeth moved her hands down to cup at the boy’s face. Gray eyes met brown.

“Yes, you do.” She said, punctuating each word with as much certainty as she possibly could. She shook her head, and Nico was entranced by the way that her blonde curls caught the sun’s rays. She looked out at the water, contemplative. Finally, she dropped both of her hands to the ground and looked over at the boy. “Go back to the house and talk to him.”

“But—”

“Just try.”

After a minute’s worth of hesitation, Nico closed his eyes and called upon a shadow. All that was left to do was search for the pull of Percy’s fate-string. When he opened his eyes, he was sitting on a hill overlooking Camp Half-Blood. Percy was lying on his back next to him. “I see that our Wise-Girl managed to find you.” Percy muttered to the sky.

“I wasn’t exactly hiding.” The glare that Nico received was enough to know just how much his comment wasn’t appreciated.

“You ran away again. I thought that you wanted it too.”

“It’s not about what I want and don’t want, Achilles.”

“Percy.”

“Percy,” Nico conceded.

“What is it about then?”

“You never wanted me the way that you do now before the dreams started. How am I supposed to know that you aren’t just trying to, I don’t know, get back to Patroclus through me? How am I supposed to be able to believe that anyone would even think to love me for who I am? I wouldn’t.”

“How am I supposed to be able to tell that you love me?” The words were whispered.

“I’ve loved you since you first saved me from the Manticore!” Nico snapped, picking at the blade of grass only to watch it wither away to dust in his hands.

Percy was quiet for a minute, trying to figure out the words that were flittering through his brain like flies. “As I am sure you found out from Annabeth, I’m not exactly the most tuned in person when it comes to my feelings. It took me six years to get together with Annabeth, when it would have taken a normal person three at the most.” He cracked his back and rose into a sitting position. “So I can’t really say that I’ve loved you for a certain number of years, or since a specific point in time. All that I know, is that whenever I thought about you when I was in the Tartarus, all that I could feel was guilt and regret. Those feelings only doubled when we couldn’t find you after the war. I got used to that weight being on my chest. Then, when you came back, I felt so… light. I was shaking with relief at the chance that I could actually do something that would make you hate me less. That I could maybe do something right and maybe make you happy or laugh. That’s all that I want. I want to be the one to see you enjoy life. I want to be beside you as you build a better life for yourself. And I’ve wanted that before the dreams started. Trust me.”

“I-It can’t just be a coincidence, Percy. The dreams—” Nico

Percy’s brow smoothed and he bridged the distance in between them to play with the strings of Nico’s sweatshirt. He was close enough that Nico could feel every shaky exhale that he took. Percy’s breath was warm and moist and there (alive). “I wanted another chance to make it right.” There was a tremor in Percy’s voice. “You’re right when you say that it’s impossible to remember your past lives spontaneously. I wanted another chance. Morpheus gave me that opportunity.”

“That goes against nearly half of the rules for reincarnation that my father has laid out.”

“I know.”

“You never told me that you loved me.”

Percy ran a hand through his hair and leaned back to look up at the ceiling. “I was an idiot, okay?” He muttered, breathing out the words through his teeth. “I was a possessive jerk who took everything he had for granted and didn’t know just how much it meant to him until it was taken away.” He sighed, “That’s why I’m running this by you right now. I don’t want for you to be my shadow, Nico, and I don’t want for you to feel forced into anything. I just want for you to be happy, because gods know, you deserve it.”

Nico just stared at Percy for a minute, watching him fiddle impatiently while waiting for an answer. Just as Percy opened his mouth to talk about start speaking again, Nico cut him off. “You wouldn’t be able to force me into anything.” He finally said and he stared at the ground, tracing over the green patches of grass with his eyes. “I’m not that weak.”

Percy let out a huff of a laugh. “You’re not weak at all.”

“Even so, if there is one thing that has remained constant in my lives, it’s that I would do anything for you. I’d face the Tartarus again for you.” Nico couldn’t help the shudder of fear that ran through his body at those words. Even if they were true, they still frightened him. Percy just stared at him, shocked and horrified. Nico bit his lip. He had forgotten that Percy had been through that nightmarish pit as well.

“I’d never ask—”

“I know, but I would.”

Percy scratched at the back of his head. “I’m sorry that you had do go through that alone.”

“I’d rather not talk about it.” Nico muttered into his over-shirt. Out of his peripheral vision, he saw Percy nod.

They were silent for about a minute and a half before Percy spoke up again with uncharacteristic hesitance. “So, what do you say? About trying again.”

“I can back out when I want to?”

Percy winced, but nodded, “Of course.”

“Annabeth is fine with it?”

“She was the one who sent me out here, actually.”

“Do you love me?” That question was the one that hung in the air.

“More than death itself.”

“You are an idiot.”

“Nico—”

“Of course I will.” It was a promise sealed with a kiss.

……………………………………………………..

Now, it would be foolish to say that their lives ended happily. After all, the trio weren’t only warriors. They were demigods, targets of all monsters. They lived long lives for those of their kind. They fought, lived, and loved as fiercely as they could because they knew that their time was short. They were the golden champions, unrivaled in their glory. But, as time dragged on, their movements slowed and their eyes dulled with weariness. Percy was the first to go down with a hand on his sword. Annabeth followed in his footsteps in the same battle. He found her in the lines of souls waiting to be judged.

As always, Nico was the last to return to them in Elysium. This time, when they finally found him again, there was a smile on his lips and he ran to them.

They walked hand in hand to the river Lethe and crouched down upon its banks. They looked up at each other, each meeting the others’ eyes and knowing the thoughts that were circling through each of their minds. Percy was the first to voice it. “Again?” He whispered.

“Again.” Annabeth and Nico’s voices rang in the still air of the Underworld as they plunged into the depths of the water after their lover.

……………………………………………………..

On that day, a dark haired son of Minerva with a curious smile was born. A sharply featured, golden haired daughter of Apollo followed not moments after him. Lastly, a solemn and quiet, doe-eyed son of Ceres was born to a single mother in Seattle.

Now, miles and mountains and rivers separated these three children, but those barriers were nothing more than hindrances against the pull of fate. They would find one another again. It was only a matter of time. And thus, the cycle continued.