Chapter Text
Percy comes to in a jail cell, instantly recognizing the door of metal bars closing off the cramped square space he's lying in. He sits up and is hit with a wave of nausea, dizziness overwhelming him so that he loses balance and falls back down. Coordinating his limbs is an insurmountable feat, and after a few minutes of trying to get to his feet, he gives up and curls up on his side. He's never felt so disoriented; as a son of Poseidon, he is immune to seasickness, but this is what he imagines it's like for other people.
It occurs to him that he may have been drugged. He tries to remember what happened before he lost consciousness, though his memory is foggy. He remembers Geryon's ranch, and Luke ambushing him. He remembers Nico, unstable and wrathful, his nightmarish sword raised as a challenge. He tried to reason with Nico, appealing to his emotions by bringing up Bianca, but it backfired. The dark outburst was like Nico's reaction to the news of his sister's demise, but a hundred times more deadly. The sky clouded over, and Percy felt like his very soul was being drawn into the shadows. He remembers feeling so sure of his imminent death, feeling surprised that the grip of darkness released him when —
Oh gods. Annabeth.
A rush of panic pushes down Percy's wooziness as he gets to his knees and looks around the cell, confirming what he already knows. Annabeth is gone. The last thing he remembers is seeing Luke attack her, feeling far too weak to do anything to stop him. Bile creeps up Percy's throat, burning his chest. Luke is a bad guy, but he wouldn't…he cares about Annabeth too much to actually…
Before he can find the courage to finish that thought, he hears the heavy slam of a high-security door opening and closing, followed by the sound of footsteps approaching his holding cell. Percy raises his eyes and sees Luke standing on the other side of the barred door, his arms folded over his chest. An unfamiliar demigod, with dark hair and an eyepatch, stands beside him with the strict posture of a soldier.
"Welcome back to the world of the living, Percy," Luke says. "For a while there we weren't sure if you'd make it."
Percy glares at him, hoping that every acidic ounce of his vitriol comes through in his stare. "Where's Annabeth?" he demands.
"She's alive, if that's what you're concerned about."
"How merciful," Percy spits. "Why not just execute us? You never seemed this hesitant before."
Luke shrugs. "You can thank the Hades boy for your life. He begged me not to kill you, after you were both defeated and lying at our feet."
Percy swallows, at a loss to process this information. "Nico is still with you, then."
"He's resting," Luke says. "It took a lot out of him, what he did to you. How are you feeling, by the way?"
"Why do you care?"
"Professional curiosity. Not many can say they were nearly turned into a ghost and lived to talk about it," Luke says.
Percy balks. "Nearly what?"
Luke nods. "Nico himself doesn't quite understand what came over him. I asked him to describe it, and that was what he told me. It seemed hard for him to talk about it, though. Getting any sort of information out of that kid is harder than pulling teeth."
Percy looks down at his hands. The disorientation, the disconnect he feels with his body…it sounds outlandish, but he does kind of feel like he was nearly reduced to a hollow spirit by the son of Hades. And in light of everything Percy has lived through for the past couple of years, it wouldn't be the most difficult notion to believe. The idea should terrify him, should fill him with vengeance against his attacker, but he can't bring himself to see Nico as his enemy. Maybe it's the lingering responsibility he feels for him, or the memory of the split second when Nico dropped his sword, relenting. Something tells Percy that Nico isn't lost yet, not the way Luke is.
He looks Luke in the eyes again. "Where are you keeping Annabeth?" he asks again, his tone low and threatening.
Luke smirks down at him in a way that makes Percy want to claw his eyes out. Percy springs forward, clutching the bars of the door to keep himself from losing balance. The loud clang of the metal as it shakes in Percy's hands seems to have no effect on Luke's calm demeanor. He doesn't step back, doesn't even flinch.
"I'll kill you," Percy seethes, gripping the bars so hard his fingers become numb. "When I'm on the other side of this door, Luke, I'll make you wish you were never born."
Luke narrows his cold eyes. "I have wished for that since the day a god claimed me as his son."
"If you hurt her, I swear I'll deal it back to you tenfold," Percy promises. A part of him is shocked by his own ferocity — normally he's not a vindictive guy, but Luke has a way of pushing him to the edge. The impression of unshakable control in Luke's schooled expression is like gas to flame, burning up Percy's moral convictions in the heat of his rage. The thought of Annabeth in danger only makes the feeling consume him faster.
"I'll be sure to keep that in mind," Luke says dismissively. He steps away, motioning for his minion to follow. "Goodbye for now, Percy. Try to recover your strength for the time being."
Percy grits his teeth as he watches them walk back out, and despite his desperation no words come to him that he can call out. Trembling, he releases the bars and crumples to his knees.
—
At some point, sleep overtakes Percy. It doesn't take long for the dreams to find him.
He dreams of a crowd, gathered around an altar in brilliant daylight. A handsome young man stands beside it, looking nervous but confident. He is surrounded by men in armor, some carrying shields on their backs, their faces wrung with tension and something like desperate hope. The man by the altar stands out from them in a multitude of ways — he is one of the few not dressed like a soldier, wearing instead a formal tunic of brilliant red, an ancient Greek chlamys embroidered with gold details draped over his shoulders. His face is statuesque in its timeless beauty, his body slim and corded like a long distance runner, his golden hair shining in the sun.
It is at this point Percy realizes he is observing the scene from the perspective of another man near the altar. The man is a king. The crowd is attending a wedding. He watches the people part as his daughter is brought forth, incandescent in her beautiful peplos. She looks shyly at the man she is to marry, and the sight should warm the old king's heart. But something is wrong. Percy feels a dread, a profound regret in his gut as he beholds the king's daughter. In the next moment, he understands why.
The king's hands reach out and throw the bride on the altar. Before the groom even realizes what's happening, the king's hands brandish a knife and slash it across the girl's smooth throat. Blood bursts forth, and the king's heart is filled with solemn relief, knowing that he has done his duty. In the split second before the scene shifts, Percy looks through the king's eyes down at the dead girl, and her face is no longer hers. Pale and bloodless, the face of Bianca di Angelo stares at the sky, strands of her dark hair tossed in the sudden wind.
It is now past sundown, the moon high among the stars, and the king is enjoying a homecoming feast. He has finally returned, having lived through an unthinkable ordeal of a war, relieved to finally be reunited with his wife and remaining family. But his wife is distant, the grief in her brow overpowering every smile. The king does not have long to wonder at her expression. After the first course, the host of the hall, a younger man, approaches the king and slides a knife between his second and third ribs.
The king sputters blood onto his plate, the flatbread dyed a dark red. Percy can sense the agony, can feel the frantic fluttering of his heart as it struggles to keep beating. His vision darkens, but just before it goes black, he catches a glimpse of the knife in his heart.
It is made of black iron, with a carved skull atop the pommel.
Percy awakes gasping, desperate for air after being suffocated by the feeling of hot blood filling his lungs. He sits up, surrounded by darkness. In the dim glow of a distant electric light, he can see that he's still in the holding cell he fell asleep in. He groans and rubs his eyes, and when he opens them again he sees the form of a person sitting right outside the cell door, motionless and silent.
"Gods of Olympus!" he exclaims, scrambling backward. "Who's there?"
The figure is silent for a second, and Percy fears they'll just continue sitting there and watching him. But after a moment a familiar voice says, "Calm down. It's me."
"…Nico?"
"Yes."
Percy squints in the darkness, but he can't make out his features. He fumbles in his pocket and pulls out Riptide. A sense of relief invigorates him at the feel of the pen in his hand, even though a sword can't do much to get him out of this situation. It's comforting just to be armed. Percy moves closer to the door and uncaps Riptide, and the glow of the celestial bronze illuminates Nico's face. He somehow looks even worse than before, the bruises under his eyes more pronounced and accompanied by his gaunt, hollow cheeks. When Percy saw him at the ranch, Nico looked like he hadn't been sleeping well. Now he looks like he's on the verge of starving to death.
"Are you…okay?" Percy asks.
"I should be asking you that," Nico says. "I almost killed you."
"But you didn't," Percy points out.
Nico looks aside. "…No. I didn't. I — I couldn't."
He's not lost yet, Percy thinks. "Luke told me you asked him to spare our lives. Me and Annabeth. Is that true?"
Nico frowns. "I just thought you'd be worth more alive than dead."
"Well, in any case. We owe you our lives, Nico. Thank you."
Nico says nothing, just twists the skull ring on his finger.
"Do you know where Annabeth is?" Percy asks.
Nico nods.
Percy's heart leaps. "Is she alright? Can you take me to her?"
Nico raises his eyes, a resentful spark in their dark depths. "Do you think I'm your ally, Percy?"
Percy meets his gaze. "I don't think you're my enemy."
Nico scoffs. "You're an idiot."
"I've been told that before," Percy says. "Why are you here, then? Are you going to turn me into a zombie thrall like Chris?"
Nico cringes at the name. "No, I'm not."
Percy leans forward. "Did you know who he was? He was a son of Hermes. He was Luke's brother, and he killed him. He put him through worse than death."
Nico swallows. "I…didn't know. I just…Luke told me it would help Kronos rise. It would help me reunite with Bianca."
Percy looks at him for a moment, at the confused, traumatized kid before him. Nico was thrown into the center of this dangerous world of gods and titans before he could get a chance to even envision the stakes involved. It makes him think of his own introduction to the life of a half-blood, a few years ago. Percy sighs. "Nico, I should tell you something. The day I came to Camp Half-Blood, I thought I saw my mother die before my eyes."
Nico looks at him, intrigued and bewildered. "You did?"
"I saw a monster grab her by the throat and make her disappear," Percy continues. "When I got to camp, everyone was trying to tell me about the gods and how the world of Greek myth is real. But I couldn't stop thinking about my mom long enough to take it in. All my life, she was the only family I had. She never stopped supporting me, even though I was what you might call a 'troubled kid.' I kept getting kicked out of schools, I couldn't hold down any friendships, and I was so full of latent anger at my dad for abandoning me. My mom always took it in stride, loving me for who I was all these years, never making me feel like a burden."
"That's like my sister and me," Nico says, his voice quiet and shaky.
Percy nods. "So when I saw her vanish, everything came crashing down. People were telling me I had to go on some quest to stop the gods from going to war, but all I could think about was getting my mom back. It mattered so much more than anything else. Sometimes it felt like nothing else mattered at all."
"Did you get her back?" Nico asks.
"I did. But only because she was never dead. Hades — your father — was holding her hostage in the Underworld. I knew the risks of going down there, that returning alive from the land of the dead was a near impossibility…but I would have done anything to save her."
"So you don't know how I feel," Nico says. "You can't understand what it's like to lose someone like I did."
"Maybe not," Percy admits. "But I know that Luke doesn't want to help you. Luke was the one who framed me for stealing Zeus's bolt and Hades's helm of darkness. He was the reason Hades kidnapped my mother, and he let me grieve for her while he knew the truth all along. He made me think he was my friend, convinced me to go down into the Underworld to confront Hades in hopes I would never come back. He tried to have me dragged into Tartarus to make sure of that. And then when I beat the odds and returned to camp with my life, he got me alone and tried to murder me himself."
"What?" Nico exclaims. "No, you're lying. Luke said you would tell me lies about him."
Percy shakes his head. "I still have the scar from the scorpion's sting. I barely made it out of the woods before passing out from the venom. Luke was counting on my death that day, and he's tried to kill me and my friends many more times since then."
Nico stares at him, wide-eyed. "I — I don't believe you."
"You've seen how he is firsthand, Nico," Percy argues. "You saw what happened to Chris — his own brother. You saw him attack Annabeth, who's been his friend for years. You don't think he would tell you anything to manipulate you into working for Kronos? You think he really cares about reuniting you with your sister?"
Nico clenches his jaw and tightens his grip on his arms. For a moment, Percy fears that he's pushed him too far again, that Nico might explode and summon the horrors of the Underworld right here in this prison cell. But instead he mutters, "You can't both be telling the truth. One of you is lying to me."
"Nico, please. Don't let him use you like he used me." Percy puts his fingers through the bars, as though trying to physically get through to him. "Watching Bianca sacrifice herself to save me was painful enough. I don't know what I'll do if Luke disposes of you, too."
Nico meets his eyes, and he looks like he might cry. He bites his lip and pinches his eyebrows together, holding Percy's earnest stare for a long few seconds. Then he suddenly melts into the shadows on the floor.
Before Percy can wonder where he went, Nico reappears beside him, on the other side of the barred door. Percy blinks at him. "What are you —"
"Give me your hand," Nico says, holding out his own.
Percy eyes him. "Why?"
"Just do it."
Percy cautiously reaches out, and Nico snatches his wrist. In the next moment, Percy feels like he's speeding on a racetrack with the top down, traveling so fast it feels like his hair might be blown right off his head. Half a heartbeat later, the world comes to a halt, and he's standing in what looks like a fancy hotel bedroom.
Nico releases him and leans against the wall beside the door as though guarding it. Percy looks around at the new setting, and sees someone rising suddenly from the queen-size bed.
"Percy?"
Percy blinks, and a huge grin breaks out on his face when recognition settles over him. "Annabeth!"
They scramble toward each other, meeting in the middle of the room in a tight embrace. Annabeth squeezes so hard she might crack a rib, but Percy can't bring himself to care. When they pull away, Percy gets a good look at her — thank the gods, she looks unharmed. Sleepless and ragged, but whole.
"I thought you were dead," Annabeth says, and Percy is surprised to hear her voice catch on the edge of a sob. He was so worried about Annabeth, but it didn't really occur to him that she might be just as scared to lose him. The idea makes a pulse of warmth wash through him like a current. "After what happened to you on the ranch, I…and Luke refused to tell me anything. I thought…"
Percy clears his throat. "I'm fine. I was worried, too. I had no idea where you were." He awkwardly puts some space between them and looks around the room. It's less spacious but more ornate than the average hotel room, the weirdest part being the lack of windows on any of the walls. "Come to think of it…where…are we?"
"You're on a cruise ship," says Nico, and Annabeth jumps at the sound of his voice. "The Princess Andromeda."
Percy and Annabeth exchange harrowed glances. They've been on this ship before, and barely escaped with their lives. "Well, at least it's a sea vessel. I can work with that," Percy says, hoping his false confidence comes through as reassuring.
"Hold on," Annabeth says, holding up her hand like she needs a time-out. "How did you get here? Is Nico still trying to…y'know, kill us?"
"I never wanted to kill you," Nico protests. He steps forward, a little closer but still comfortably distant. "I used shadow travel to bring Percy here. You guys can go now."
Annabeth raises an eyebrow. "That's a pretty major change of heart."
"What she means to say is, 'thank you, Nico, for springing my friend Percy from jail,'" Percy clarifies, and Annabeth elbows him. "Well, I'll say it if she won't. Thank you."
"Whatever," Nico grumbles.
Percy holds a hand out again. "Will you come with us? You'll be safe at camp, and we could really use your strength."
Nico retreats. "Yeah, I'm sure you could. But I'm not interested in being used again."
"That's not what he meant," Annabeth says. "Staying at camp will protect you from people who want to hijack your power and your position."
"Save it," Nico says. "I'm washing my hands of all of you. Camp Half-Blood, Luke, Kronos…everyone wants to force me to their side. I don't know who to trust. So I decided I won't be joining anyone's side."
Percy frowns. "What are you going to do?"
"It's none of your concern anymore, Percy."
"Nico, let us help," Annabeth says. "You don't have to go through this alone."
Nico ignores her. "You two are on your own now," he says, and steps back into the shadows. "Goodbye."
The darkness envelops him and takes him away without a sound, leaving Percy and Annabeth alone in the room. Percy collapses onto the edge of the bed, sinking into the fluffy covers like a stone in a pond. He's mostly recovered from the lingering effects of his near-death experience, but his body still feels heavy, like too much gravity is pulling on him. He senses the mattress beside him depress as Annabeth sits down with gentle hesitation. He can tell she's looking at him, but he doesn't meet her eyes.
"So…that was a lot," Annabeth observes gracelessly. "Where does that leave us?"
Percy puts his hand to his forehead, like he'll fall apart if he doesn't hold himself up. "I still don't feel good about letting him go off on his own."
"I doubt you could stop him," Annabeth says. "And if you tried, you'd just tear down whatever trust he has left in you."
"Thank you for the overwhelming vote of confidence," Percy remarks.
Annabeth shrugs. "Sometimes a tactical retreat is the best course of action."
Percy sighs. "I feel like I failed him. Both of them."
Annabeth looks at him for a while, considering. At length she spoke up again. "Do you remember what it was like to hold up the sky?"
Percy snorts. "Inconceivably agonizing and bordering on impossible?"
"You only bore the weight for a few minutes, and it made your hair turn gray," Annabeth agrees. "If there's anything I learned from that trial, it's that carrying so much on my shoulders is destructive and unsustainable."
"Tell that to Atlas."
"Atlas is a Titan," Annabeth retorts. "Even though it feels like so much is resting on us…we're not unbreakable. We can't take everything on all the time. Right?"
"I guess," Percy mumbles.
"Percy, look at me," Annabeth orders. Percy finds himself unable to defy her, and drags his gaze to meet hers. Her expression is stern and determined, like a commander rousing the troops. "Bianca made her own choice. Nico is going to make his. You and I are going to do the right thing whenever we can, but we are not responsible for the choices of another person."
Percy bites his cheek, fidgeting with his hands in his lap. "It feels like I am. It feels like I have to be. But…I know you're right. I have to figure out my own limits if I'm going to survive all of this. I'll try not to take on too much."
Annabeth smiles. "That's the spirit. And, hey, you can always hand some of it to me. I'll be there to hold up the sky with you whenever you need me."
Percy straightens up and gives her what he hopes is an encouraging smile. "Well, looks like it's us against the world again. Good thing doing the impossible is our specialty, right?"
A blush colors Annabeth's cheeks, and she shoves him. "All right, Seaweed Brain. If you're back to cracking jokes, you'd better look alive. I need to make a plan to get us off this ship."