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Nico was really starting to hate his life. Well, if you wanted to be technical about it, he'd started hating his life five years ago when his boyfriend Will died (kidnapped at sea and murdered by the Dread Pirate Apollo). He'd started hating it even more when Prince Castellan proposed to him after countless days spent accosting Nico during his daily rides. He’d hated every second that Castellan spent wheedling him with promises of riches and explaining how Nico would inevitably fall out of love with his "beloved farm boy" (as if Will wasn't so much more than that).
But he really, really was starting to hate this whole "being kidnapped" nonsense.
The blindfold was itchy on his face as he sat on the uncomfortably pebbly surface of--whatever he was sitting on, probably a rock. In the suffocating heat, beads of sticky sweat prickled at the back of his neck, slipping down his shirt. He could feel the sharp bite of the metal weapon against his neck, pressing uncomfortably against his skin whenever he tried to swallow.
Nico didn’t know much about his kidnapping, other than what he’d been able to pick up between all the petty jabs and rhyming couplets. There were two men and one woman that had taken him, though they didn't seem to like each other all that much (well, the ringleader, Octavian, didn't seem to like the other two). Nico had been taken up the Cliffs of Insanity so he could be left on the border to die and start a war. And, oh yeah, someone was trying to follow them, probably to kidnap Nico for themselves.
Which is how Nico found himself, tied up, blindfolded, sitting on a rock in the middle of nowhere, a knife pressing into his throat, as Octavian sat gleefully gloating about how the Man in Black would be defeated by Jason, who was apparently some sort of very strong half giant. Personally, Nico was expecting the Man in Black to die at the hands of that expert swordsperson, Reyna, even if he did make it up the insane cliff or whatever.
Nico certainly didn't like Octavian, but he wasn’t ready to put his faith in someone who was this desperate to also get his hands on Nico. He dreaded the idea that they were coming after him for a proposal– If the Man in Black was hotter than Luke Castellan, Nico might just be tempted to say yes. If they were uglier, and/or meaner, Nico might just throw himself off the insane cliffs instead.
Octavian's maniacal monologuing was sharply cut off by a short sound of disgust. Nico heard quiet footsteps crunching on grass, and then he felt the blade against his throat push deeper, and he winced on instinct.
"One step closer and I'll kill him."
The man must've stopped, because Nico didn't get the sweet release of death that he was pretty sure might actually be his best option.
"So," Octavian said, in that sneering, high-pitched, annoying voice of his. Gods, that voice was really starting to grate on Nico. "It is down to you, and it is down to me."
“Let me explain. I’m sure we can come to a mutually beneficial agreement.”
Oh, the Man in Black had a pretty voice. It was warm, and low, and filled with a quality that felt vaguely, weirdly familiar. It took Nico a second to place why, but when he did, the warmth in his stomach gave way to cold, sharp bitterness. The Man in Black spoke in the same accent as Will. It was faint, but Nico had spent enough time hearing Will's soft words that he could recognize it.
“You want to kidnap what I’ve rightfully stolen! You’d be lucky to leave this ravine with your life.”
"If you’re so sure, then why don’t we put that idea to the test?”
Octavian hummed, seemingly overjoyed by the idea. “And what are you suggesting? I am no match for you physically, but you are no match for me mentally.”
Oh, great. Now Nico was going to have to sit through Octavian's monologues about how smart he was again. Let me put it this way: have you heard of Plato, Socrates, Aristotle? Morons! He’d heard it so many times that he could all but recite it, and now he was going to have to hear it again. Why couldn't Reyna just have taken this guy out?
“Then I propose a challenge of wits! Please, if you will, pour the wine.”
Nico strained to hear anything but the shuffling of goblets. If only he could see, he was sure he’d be able to escape while Octavian was distracted extolling his own virtues.
“I have put iocane powder in one of these two goblets. It is odorless, tasteless, and one of the more deadlier poisons known to man. Your task is to figure out which contains the poison. Then we will drink– and one will have the prince-to-be, and one will be dead.”
Great. This was just...great. He felt a fresh stab of guilty pain in his gut at the mention of the powder. Gods, he wished Will was here. He wished Will was alive. Will had always held a fascination for poisons, ever since he became an apprentice at the apothecary.
Nico was really hoping that the Man in Black wasn't just leaving Nico's life up to chance.
Octavian let out a shrill laugh that stunk of malice and arrogance. "But this is easy! All I have to do is divine what I know of you and what kind of man you are, and that will lead me to the eventual conclusion. And trust me, I am a great diviner. The boys at my school thought me a prophet for my uncanny ability to know things I shouldn't. I am an observer, and I will observe you-- are you the kind of man who would put the poison into his own goblet, or his enemy's?
“Now, a clever man would put the poison into his goblet, knowing only a great fool would reach for what he was given. So I can clearly not choose the wine in front of you. But you would have known I am not a great fool, you would have counted on it, so I can clearly not choose the wine in front of me.”
“So you have made your decision, then?”
Nico had heard of great card players that could figure out if someone was lying based on little tremors in their voice, twitches in their eyes, subconscious fiddling with their hands. Although the Man in Black’s voice was perfectly (almost infuriatingly) calm, he wondered if Octavian was attempting to do that now. Octavian wasn’t the kind of person to play games he didn’t feel totally confident in winning.
“Not even remotely!”
Nico resisted the urge to roll his eyes underneath his blindfold as Octavian continued, “Everyone knows that iocane powder comes from Themiscyra, where the Amazon warriors live. After the rumors of their violence against men, they are accustomed to men being distrustful, almost paranoid of them, just as I do not even remotely trust you. So I can clearly not choose the wine in front of you. But clearly you would suspect that I would know the poison’s origin, so I can clearly not choose the wine in front of me.”
“Truly, you have a dizzying intellect.”
There was a hint of humor in the Man in Black’s voice. As if he wasn’t taking this seriously– or, as if he knew Octavian would never win. But there’d be no way to ensure Octavian picked the right (or, in this case, wrong) goblet unless the Man in Black had cheated somehow.
Or, perhaps the Man in Black was just a stupidly cavalier pirate who played life like a game. Nico wasn’t sure which option he preferred just yet.
“Wait til I get going! You have bested my giant, meaning you must be strong. Maybe you are counting on your strength to save you from the poison– so I can clearly not choose the wine in front of you. But you also bested my swordsperson, meaning you’ve studied. And in your studies, you’d know that man is mortal, and you would therefore keep such deadly poisons as far from yourself as possible! So, clearly, I cannot choose the wine in front of me.”
“If you are trying to goad me into giving something away, it simply won’t work.”
“It has worked!” Octavian declared triumphantly. “You’ve given everything away!”
“Then make your choice!”
Nico’s heart was pounding in his chest. He wasn’t even sure what to hope for– Octavian being dead, or the Man in Black being dead.
"I choose– What in the world could that be?” Octavian gasped dramatically. He must’ve pointed at something in the distance, because Nico felt the knife briefly leave his neck.
"What is it?"
There was a shinkt of metal sliding, like the Man in Black had drawn his sword. Nico tensed. Has someone come to save him? Was it Luke Castellan?
"Nothing," Octavian said, and Nico could hear the smirk in his voice. "I thought I saw something, but it was a trick of the light. Now, let us drink. Me from my glass, and you from yours."
The sounds of drinking followed; Nico held his breath, waiting for something to happen, straining his ears to hear something, anything .
“You guessed wrong,” the Man in Black said, voice smug as ever.
"You only think I guessed wrong– I switched goblets when your back was turned!"
Octavian started laughing. Loudly, endlessly. Nico felt bile rising up in his throat. Was the Man in Black already dead? Nico's only hope of escape?
Octavian's laugh was cut off sharply with a loud thump. So Octavian was dead after all. Nico didn't feel the relief he imagined he would, instead being plagued by terrifying uncertainty. At least he knew what Octavian wanted from him.
Nico tensed as he felt the warm, gentle hands cupping his face. For one wild moment, he was sure that this Man in Black was about to kiss him, before he felt the blindfold being slowly lifted off his face. Blinking in the sunlight, Nico caught his first glimpse of his new captor.
His first thought was that he was looking at Will, based on the man's build, and the bright ocean-blue eyes staring at Nico. But then his eyes trailed over the dark mask, the black clothes, the sword hanging from his belt...this wasn't Will. It was the man who killed him.
“All this time, it was your goblet that was poisoned,” Nico said, eyeing the cups warily.
“They were both poisoned. I have spent the last couple of years building up a resistance to iocane powder. I couldn’t very well have Octavian have you,” the Man in Black said, an edge of disgust in his voice. “Now, come along, we don’t have much time.”
He grasped at Nico’s wrists to haul him up, but Nico resisted. He wasn’t going anywhere with Will’s killer.
Nico forced down the rage in his throat. "Whatever you want for ransom, you won’t get it. Prince Castellan could track a falcon on a cloudy day, he can find you. No matter where you try to take me.”
The Man in Black let out a dry laugh. "I don't want anything from you, Prince.”
“Don’t call me that,” Nico snapped.
“But that’s what you are, isn’t it? After you married that– man ? Your ‘true love’?”
He had to stop himself from flinching at the wording, wondering if the Man in Black knew that Will had always said that, or if it was just a coincidence.
“I haven’t married him yet ,” Nico said instead. “And he isn’t my true love!”
He’d agreed to marry Castellan, but that didn’t mean he wanted to. It was time to move on from Will, despite the lingering heartbreak he felt every time Castellan wrapped an arm around his waist. And he could do good things as the prince, he knew he could.
Though he couldn’t deny that he had his hesitations. Outside of the guilt of marrying someone that wasn’t Will (Will, who had given up everything for him, and what did Nico do in return? What did he do to deserve it?), he wasn’t sure if he liked Castellan, and he was sure he would never grow to love him like Castellan always assured him.
The Man in Black stopped, eyeing Nico with an emotion that Nico couldn’t quite place. “You admit you do not love him?”
“He knows I don’t love him,” Nico replied stiffly, not quite sure why he was telling the man this in the first place.
The Man in Black snorted. “That implies you were ever capable of love in the first place.”
Nico rose to his feet. “Don’t patronize me. I have loved more deeply than you will ever know, more deeply than you have ever experienced.”
For a minute, Nico was sure that the Man in Black was about to draw his sword on Nico.
“You don’t get to say that to me, you don’t know anything about me!”
“I know exactly who you are. You’re the Dread Pirate Apollo, and you killed my true love.”
“I suppose I did. I do kill a lot of people. Tell me about him.” There was a weird quality in Apollo’s voice that Nico couldn’t quite place.
Nico hesitated. He didn’t want his precious memories of Will to be tarnished by Apollo’s coldly cruel comments. “He was…he was perfect. He was beautiful, really. His eyes sparkled like–”
“The gold hidden in his vaults, I’m sure.”
“No, like the ocean. He wasn’t just another prince, he was so much more than that. He was smart, and kind, and poor and perfect. He deserved so much more than me, but he wanted me anyway. And he didn’t have money, which is why he went out to sea. Your ship attacked him on the high seas, took him prisoner. And the Dread Pirate Apollo never leaves prisoners.”
“Well, I have a reputation to uphold, don’t I? I can’t go around sparing everyone who says they have a true love waiting on them.” Apollo drawled the words, ‘true love’, glancing at Nico like he wanted them to hurt.
Nico refused to give him the satisfaction, swallowing down memories of Will tenderly cupping his face, whispering promises into his skin. But Apollo seemed to catch it anyway, like a shark smelling blood.
“You know, I do think I remember this…lover of yours. It would’ve been five years ago, now. A poor apprentice, wasn’t he?”
Nico lowered his head, nodding.
“He died well,” Apollo said, voice softening slightly, as if that would make Nico feel any better. “He didn’t plead, or beg, or try to bribe his way out. He simply said ‘Please. Please, I need to live. If not for me, then for my True Love’.” Apollo let out a derisive snort. “He meant you, I suppose, though I don’t understand why. How would he feel, do you think, if he came back to marry you, only for you to marry some prince? Did you even love him?”
“I still love him!” Nico yelled. “I died the day he left me, the day I found out he was never coming back!”
There was a commotion at the very top edge of the ravine– through a cloud of dust kicked up by horse’s hooves, Nico could make out Castellan’s figure, raising a sword. So Castellan had come for him, too.
“And you can die too, for all I care!”
Seizing the opportunity as Apollo stared at Castellan, Nico pushed Apollo down the ravine, sending him tumbling down the steep, grassy slope.
“AS YOU WISH!” came Apollo’s muffled cry.
Satisfaction gave way to a wave of guilt, and relief, and pure, utter joy, and guilt.
“Oh, gods, Will,” Nico gasped, before lunging forward after Will.
Nico felt nothing but the hard ground and itchy grass beneath him as he tumbled down, down, down, until he hit the sandy bottom of the ravine. He sat up quickly, catching the sight of Will’s golden blonde hair from where the mask had fallen off, and scrambled towards Will, cupping his face, searching for injuries, breathing in his scent (slightly salty, like the ocean, and the sweat from Will’s fights, and that underlying smell of summer and honey that was just pure Will).
“Are you okay?” Will asked, one hand coming up to tuck a stray black curl of hair behind Nico’s ear, his fingers lingering on Nico’s jaw.
Oh, how could Nico ever forget that voice, or those sparkling, ocean blue eyes?
“You’re alive,” Nico said, as breathless and giddy as when Will had first kissed him. “If you want, I could fly.”
“Why didn’t you wait for me?” Will asked, and Nico could hear traces of hurt and anger in his voice. Nico didn’t exactly blame him.
“You were dead,” Nico replied. “If I’d had known–”
“How many times do I have to tell you? Death cannot stop true love.”
Nico leaned in, pressing his lips against Will’s. It was just as perfect as he remembered. Nico helped Will to his feet, fetching his sword from where it had fallen down the ravine. Will was searching up across the top of the ravine.
“Castellan’s still coming after us,” Will noted. Smiling, he took Nico’s hand, pulling him across the ravine. “But he’s too late. In a few minutes, we will be safe in the Fire Swamp.”
Nico stared up at the looming green-grey trees, and the darkness lurking there. He gulped, tightening his grasp on Will’s hand. “We’re never going to survive.”
Will laughed, a sound that Nico was sure he would never get tired of. “You’re just saying that because no one ever has.”
With one last kiss, Nico allowed Will to lead them into the Fire Swamp, away from Castellan’s men.