Chapter Text
Jason and Reyna are talking far too much for Nico’s comfort. He can tell when they’re putting on a show for him. No one else is privy to their fronts, but given their protective nature over him, it makes sense.
“What is this about?” The senate house is eerily quiet. There’s a sense of foreboding in the air. His palms sweat. He can’t place the anxiety mounting inside his chest. Some nervous, intense physical response that he hopes has more to do with Reyna and Jason concealing something than the thing being concealed.
Jason places a hand on his shoulder, gentle and affirming. His face warms at the touch. “There’s an ambassador we would like you to meet.”
“All the Centurions have to meet the new ambassador, Jason.” He’s more excited at the prospect of meeting the new demigod accompanying the ambassador. Rumor has it, it’s one of Pluto’s children.
“Quit being cheeky.” He looks to Reyna for help.
“We wanted you two to meet first,” Reyna actually manages to calm him. Whenever Jason’s in close physical proximity, his brain tends to short circuit, and he’s not able to focus on anything else. “Before she’s thrust into the public.”
“What does this have to do with me?”
Reyna and Jason share a glance. They have been friends for much longer with each other than Nico, and surprisingly, he rarely gets jealous of them (anymore), despite how close they are. In fact, he had gotten closer with Reyna since confessing his feelings for Jason, as she tried to sort out her own sexuality in relation to their close bond.
“You should just meet her.” The hand on his shoulder squeezes, ushering him forward. He lets it happen, just to keep Jason’s hand on him longer.
In the middle of the space, framed against the pillars and the towering rows of the empty senate, stands a girl. She’s slender and pale. She could be described as delicate from a distance, until you got a look at her eyes. They sheen black as stygian iron, with unfathomable depth.
Her black trench coat is quite roomy, a giant shadow she can slip into (and what a notion that is), but underneath wears a normal green wrap dress over dark jeans. Her dark, curly hair tumbles down her shoulders. She doesn’t look like any demigod Nico’s ever seen.
But at the sight of her, something awakens. Something inside him is screaming, trying to get out. There’s a muted pressure behind his eyes giving him a headache. He winces.
The girl looks at him and emits a sound Nico’s never heard a person make. It hurts, low and pained, shaking with absolute disbelief. For many long moments, she just stares, and he tries to understand why she’s looking at him like that. With such importance. Such gravity.
“Nico.” Her voice is rough. His name sounds like a prayer.
It doesn’t occur to him to ask how she knew his name. He stands there, afraid of what might happen to her if he leaves her field of vision. She seems afraid he’ll disappear any second.
She walks to him slowly, her hands reaching to cup his cheeks when she’s close enough, inspecting him for damage. Her hands are cold, but he doesn’t mind. He’s got such a low body temperature, being a child of Pluto.
“Nico,” she says, “It’s me.”
Her thick lashes wet with tears and she sobs. Her thumbs smooth over his cheekbones, his eyelids, trace the freckles on his cheeks. He can’t bring himself to look away. She moves to embrace him and he steps back, finally, has to ask, “Who are you?”
He regrets the question the instant he asks it. Her face crumples from shock to despair, and she starts crying harder, if possible. But that lasts only a moment. Her head bows and she collects herself. When she rises again, her face is splotchy but dry. Her black eyes look sinister rimmed red.
“I… I’m your sister,” she says.
“You’re a child of Pluto, too? I thought you were bringing my sister.”
“No, I am, she is, but… you’ll meet her later. Nico, I am your sister. Your human sister.”
The world stops. Everything comes into high definition. The shadows in the room darken until she is the only thing he can see. He feels as though he’s been plunged into ice water. His frigid lungs conspire against him.
“My sister? I don’t have a sister. What?” He’s dizzy. He actually stumbles, and would have fallen if not for Jason’s hand on his back.
“… You don’t remember me.”
“What’s happening?” He looks to Reyna for support, help, something. She keeps him grounded when everything threatens to float away. She regards Bianca carefully, and seems upset that her presence is setting him off. He’s finally gotten his panic attacks, blackouts, under control. Until now.
She’s quiet for a long time after that, though, choosing her words carefully. “Just let me explain. Please, Nico.”
His name sounds so tender coming from her.
They both need air, so he walks with her down the lip of the Tiber, listening warily. They sit peacefully on the bank. Blades of grass brown under her touch. “I thought you were dead. I was supposed to protect you. It’s my fault you’re here.”
Nico feels it necessary he defend his homestead. “I like it here. I’m… happy.” And he never feels ownership over that word.
The ambassador smiles pityingly. “Nico, you don’t belong here.”
A chill settles over him. The words hurt more than he expected. He was a weird enough kid, isolated enough, without this reminder. The pain must show palpably on his face, because she backtracks. He’s never been good at hiding his emotions, either.
“That’s not what I meant! I-I’m sorry. This is new. I’ve spent the last few years grieving you, and now you’re here, and, and I don’t want to mess things up like I did last time.” Her hands curl into the dirt. She exhales. “I can’t tell you everything right now. But know this: I’m your sister. And I’m going to take care of you, no matter what. I won’t let you get hurt ever again.”
Despite himself, warmth blooms in his chest. He’s inclined to believe her. She’s so sincere and she looks lonely in a way that Nico recognizes. When he catches their reflections side by side in the water, he sees how much they look alike. His heart hammers in his chest.
“I know, Bea,” he tells her. “I know.”
“Bea?” He touches his lips, not sure where the moniker came from. She laughs. “It’s Bianca. You used to call me Bea when you were little since it was easier than 'Bianca'.”
The nickname buzzes in his mouth. More floats beneath the surface of his mind, just out of reach. Nico has an idea of who he is, but not what came before Camp Jupiter. He likes who he is here.
And when he gets a look at Bianca (his sister ) and her haunted eyes, he isn’t sure he wants to find out what happened before.