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Will wasn’t born with any soulmarks, not like his Mama had been. He used to trace the shimmery gold letters that sloped over her upper arm, shoulders, and around each of her ankles. Fickle. Arrogant. Shallow. Cruel. His Mama always wore modest stage outfits: tasseled button-up shirts, bell-bottom jeans, tall cowboy boots with her skirts.
“Your Daddy gave me those,” She’d said, “They’re just for me and you.”
Will didn’t have words like she did, as much as he wished and wished.
His Mama frowned, her lips thinned. “I don’t know you want these, baby. Sometimes, when people tell your soulmate nasty lies about who they are, they show up on your skin”
Will’s little face had fallen. “Oh.” Then, his eyebrows scrunched up fiercely. “So we only get lies about them, then?”
Mama had sighed. “If your soulmate believes them enough.”
Will didn’t like that– it wasn’t fair. He wanted the best things about his soulmate, so he could know exactly who it was and always have their goodness.
“Mama,” He’d asked, “Why does Daddy believe all that bad stuff about himself? Why don’t you get the good stuff instead?”
Naomi Solace sighed. “He’s lived a lot of life, sweetheart. I had these even when I was born. We just have to hold them for our soulmates, right? Let them know when the time comes that they are more than all these lies.”
That made sense to Will, he realized. He would keep the bad thoughts if and when they came so his soulmate could have all the good.
He hadn’t known who his father was until he came to Camp Half-Blood, and man, had that left him reeling. His dad was a god?
“Is that why Mama’s had her soulmarks since she was a baby?” Will asked Maron on the way to Camp Half-Blood. Maron glanced over, a sad sort of look in his eyes.
“Probably,” He said. Then: “He must have loved your Mama very much. Not many gods have human soulmates.”
Will liked that a lot.
“Do you know the story about soulmates, son?” Maron asked.
Will still wasn’t used to the New York accent very much, but the way Maron said ‘son’ reminded him of the silver-scruffed old men back home in Texas. He shook his head no.
Maron smiled.
“A long time ago, humans used to be really different. Each person had two heads and four arms and four legs,” Maron said.
“Did not!” Will cried. He bounced up and down in his seat. The evil pigeons from earlier had got him good, but the cuts were starting to heal up on her arms and legs. Maron had given him a chunk of something called ambrosia, and he thought it was a lemon square until he’d bit into it and his mouth flooded with the taste of Nanna’s Texas Sheet Cake.
“Did too,” Maron laughed. “And they got around everywhere by cartwheeling.”
“Really? Like, really really?” Will asked.
“Yessir. So, humans were like two people squashed into one. And they were really strong. They were so strong, they started to make Zeus, the King of the Gods, really nervous. So he decided one day to split them in half. He turned their heads around and healed their bellies up, and then each one person became two.”
“He cut them up?” Will asked. He frowned. “That sounds like it hurt.”
“It did. But the people still had each other. And that’s why humans have soulmates– because you weren’t meant to live alone. Even platonically, humans are built to have a buddy. So when Apollo healed them up, he blessed them so they could always find their soulmate, so they could help each other when they got lonely. Your soulmate wears all the bad things you believe about yourself on your skin. They hold it for you so you don’t have to. When you look at the things you don’t like about yourself, you also have to face someone who loves you. It’s like feeling whole again. Apollo’s the god of truth, you know. So there are no lies between soulmates.” Maron pulled off the highway towards an exit guarded by a big billboard: Delphi’s Strawberries. Will liked strawberries.
He liked that story, too.
The day after he arrived, Will had his first capture-the-flag game at camp. He was on the Hermes team, of course, because he hadn’t been claimed yet. He’d spent the night with the Stolls and Luke Castellan and the other Hermes campers. They were pretty cool. Luke had rolled out a yellow sleeping bag for Will and brought him toiletries and even a little crow beanie baby one of the older campers had nicked from somewhere. Will wouldn’t mind if Hermes was his dad– Hermes was the god of travel, Luke said, and Will liked to travel. He traveled with his mom when she went on tour. He usually stayed in the tour bus or backstage sometimes, but he got to be with her and see new places.
So he played lookout with Connor Stoll during capture the flag. They were some of the youngest campers, so they couldn’t really do much, but Will could whistle really loud if he saw someone slip past the border.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a blur as someone made a run for it.
“Luke!” He screamed, and then he put his fingers in his mouth and whistled real hard. Connor was already moving, though, sprinting to tag the older guy Will didn’t know.
The guy was taller, but Connor was faster somehow, and he was on a downhill, too. Will held his breath. Connor would make it! He was gonna tag the other guy!
Then, Will watched in horror as Connor couldn’t stop. He fell forward, crashing into the Ares camper and shoving them both to the ground. Connor yelped.
Will started sprinting, and he heard Luke and some of the older kids behind him. He slid to the grass next to Connor. Connor’s finger looked all weird and crooked, bent the wrong way. Will held it in his hand, frowning.
“Will,” Luke said, “Go get Chiron.”
But Will had an idea. When he got hurt, his Mama always kissed it better. Sometimes when he did it for her, it really worked. Would it work on Connor?
Carefully, Will kissed Connor on the knuckle. He hummed one of his Mama’s songs for good measure. Then, he cradled Connor’s hand as the finger moved back into place. Connor hissed.
“Holy shit,” Someone gasped.
“Language!” Luke chided.
“Look at the sun, Luke, he’s one of ours!” An older guy whooped.
Will looked up, then. A little glowing sun floated above his head. He swiped a hand through it, but it stayed. It was the same gold color as Mama’s soulmarks. He grinned.
Someone scooped him off the ground.
“Hi, Will, I’m Lee. I’m your big brother,” a blond kid smiled.
“Hi,” Will said dumbly, “I’m Will.”
Lee laughed, then lifted Will up on his shoulders. The next day, Lee made them matching paracord bracelets.
“See?” He said. “Now we’re really brothers.”
All his siblings’ parents had Apollo’s soulmarks, Will learned. Some of them had other soulmarks, too, mortals they fell in love with after Apollo.
“Dad’s a romantic,” Lee had laughed, “All his lovers are his soulmates.”
Will kind of loved that. He was proud, too, when he realized Apollo was the reason humans had soulmates in the first place. Lee told the story again after that, except he did it a little better than Maron. Will’s chest puffed with pride when Lee explained how Apollo healed the humans. Will liked the sound of that. He wanted to heal people, too.
“Just wait and see,” Lee said gently, “It might’ve been a fluke, just a cool way for Dad to claim you. He likes showy stuff like that. You might like archery better, or music, or prophecy. Heck, Ben wanted to go to law school after camp. He liked finding the truth. He wanted to help people that way.”
It wasn’t a fluke when Will continued to heal. He was bad at archery, especially compared to his brother Michael, and while he loved to sing, he always knew he wasn’t like his Mama or his sister Rosie. Despite all that, Will could heal. Even if it was just small stuff, Will could heal. It wasn’t long before Lee had him start helping in the infirmary.
“Just the little stuff, okay? We’ll work you up to it,” He’d said.
Will still didn’t have any soulmarks like a lot of the other campers did. Some campers wore theirs loud and proud, exposed letters in many fonts and colors. Others kept theirs hidden.
Luke had worn his electric-blue soulmarks exposed. He was defiant, almost, expecting anyone to challenge him. He wore them as a badge of pride. The marks had not grayed. He visited Thalia’s tree sometimes and traced the bark. His soulmate was not dead; just cursed. She was just frozen.
Later, when Luke had fled and Thalia emerged from the tree, she kept hers covered. She wore armguards and was careful with her clothes. She scowled whenever she caught sight of Luke’s deep green on her skin. Her soulmate had changed; she didn’t claim him anymore.
A few campers had a bunch of soulmarks, but most only had a couple. Not many had none like Will. Did Will have a soulmate?
“They’re out there somewhere,” Lee promised. “They just don’t let the world get them down, huh, sunshine?”
Will took that to heart. He hoped it was true. He wondered if his soulmate had any from him. He really hoped not.
He started praying for his soulmate every night. He asked his Dad to keep them safe, to keep the world from getting them down.
Will still didn’t have soulmarks on his eleventh birthday. Will’s Mama called on his eleventh birthday. It wasn’t good news.
“Howdy, sweetheart,” She said. The ‘howdy’ was a joke between them, but Will clung to the way her voice dipped like honey on those words. He missed her Southern drawl. The campers had all kinda accents from all over the US, but no one else had that slow Texas drawl. It reminded him of home. He was losing it, he realized, and speaking in it felt foreign in his mouth. Will was scared.
“Howdy, Mama,” Will said, “How’s the tour?”
“Oh, Will, it’s so good, honey. We’ve just added more stops along the way. We’re heading out West, can you believe it? Up to Nevada and Oregon!”
Will huddled closer to the wall and wound the landline cord around his fingers. He had to sit on a stool to reach the phone in the Big House. They couldn’t call often, Chiron told him. It helped the monsters smell them better.
“Can I come with you?” Will asked.
He clutched the phone cord in his fist.
“I could stay in the tour bus how I used to,” He offered.
The line went staticy with quiet.
“Don’t you like Camp, though, Will?” Mama asked. Her voice sounded tinny through the phone. “You were just telling me about all your friends. Clarisse, and Connor, and Lee? I think it’s more fun there than trying to travel with me. I think you’d rather stay with your friends than jumping from place to place with me, darlin’. ‘Sides, I’ll be back in the studio after this leg of the tour. That’s boring stuff, y’know? I think you’d rather stay the year.”
“‘Kay. Break a leg tonight at your show,” Will said. He tried not to sound upset. He tried to be sunshiney for her. She just got a new record deal! She should be happy.
“Thank you, baby,” Naomi said, “I’ll play a song just for you, y’hear? I’ll give a shoutout just for your birthday.”
“Thanks, Mama,” Will said, “I love you.” He was trying very hard not to cry.
“I love you, too, William.”
The call disconnected with a click. Will hung the phone back up on the wall.
That night, his siblings sang him happy birthday in three-part harmony. Connor screeched at the end for good measure. Will blew out eleven candles on his big Texas Sheet Cake and tried to feel happy when all the Apollo campers cheered. He wished he’d find his soulmate this year, or for his Mama to come pick him up and want her with him all the time. Will slid a slice of cake into the fire for his dad. He wished his Mama were here to sing. She sent a record, though, with a letter written on the back. Will stacked it next to the books Apollo gave Will on history, science, and medicine. Chiron gave it to him after she hung up. Will had burst into tears, telling Chiron he’d be staying year-round.
Will still had no soulmarks when a flaming bus crashed into the lake. He did get to meet his Dad, though. He wasn’t sure what to expect. He was kinda surprised. His dad was pretty cool. Apollo had been… a lot, but Will could see how how his Mama could love him. Will could match her gold soulmarks to his dad.
Will was starting to doubt if he had a soulmate at all. Everyone had to have them, he reasoned. Even the Hunters of Artemis had soulmates. Some of them bore each other’s marks, some of them bore the same silver words of Lady Artemis, and some had marks that had grayed long ago. Some had soulmates who were mortal friends they loved, siblings and neighbors and even a teacher or parent. One hunter had no marks. Her soulmate had chosen reincarnation, she explained, so the old gray marks had vanished when their soul was born again. She was waiting for new ones to bloom.
Maybe Will’s soulmate hadn’t been born yet! Maybe that was why he didn’t have any marks yet. That was kinda weird, though. That meant he was at least eleven years older, and that was a really long time.
But the black-haired boy who came in the sun bus looked nice enough. Maybe Will could just have a friend? A friend was good enough for now, he thought.
The boy’s name was Nico di Angelo. Will was too scared to be his friend. He wasn’t scared of Nico; Nico was just too friendly. He could talk to the older campers, and he knew a lot about mythology from this game called Mythomagic. Will thought that was pretty cool. Will asked Lee if Chiron could get him a new deck.
“Ooo, sunshine’s got a crush!” Rosie sing-songed. Michael hit her in the face with a pillow.
One day, Nico was gone. The quest group had returned, but Bianca hadn’t come back. Nico ran away.
Will’s first soulmark came at night. He woke up after lights out, whimpering as something sharp carved into his arm. He rolled out of bed and stumbled. It was dark, but there was always light in Cabin Seven– fairy lights, an enchanted candle flickering in the corner, the light of their aunt’s chariot flickering silver through the window.
He shook Lee awake.
“Lee,” He whispered. He choked a little on the tears. “Lee.”
Lee startled awake.
“Will?” He asked. “What’s wrong, Sunshine, nightmares?”
Will shook his head, then remembered Lee couldn’t see.
“Hurts,” He gasped out, clutching his arm.
Lee sat up in a flash. He clutched in his wall-cubby for a flashlight and flicked it on.
“What hurts, sunshine?” He asked, cool and steady.
Will extended his elbow so Lee could see his arm. Will’s hand was shaking. Coiled around his bicep like a snake, the word 'cursed' hissed in jet-black letters.
Lee took Will’s hand and gently turned his arm so he could read all the way around.
Cursed. His first soulmark, and it was ‘cursed’. Tears welled up in Will’s eyes, and he sniffed to shove them down. Who thought Will’s soulmate was cursed? Why would his soulmate believe it?
Lee frowned deeply. “They don’t hurt, normally. Not bad, anyways. Usually just a pinch.”
Will couldn’t meet Lee’s eyes. He was scared, and his arm still stung.
“Why don’t you sleep with me tonight, sweetheart?” Lee whispered.
Will nodded and climbed into the bunk beside him. Lee drew the blanket around them both and flicked the light off. Small sobs worked in Will’s chest. He tried so hard to keep them down, but they shook his whole body.
“Shh, honey, you’re alright,” Lee whispered, “It’s okay, Will, you’re alright.”
Will got them a lot more after that. At first he thought they were just black, but they looked almost purple when the sun shone down on them. Creepy. Broken. Weird. Alone. Forgotten. Dark. Annoying. No-good. They sliced across his chest and slashed over his heart, penned over his hips. They carved their way between Will’s ribs. They spiraled down his arms and up his neck. They looked carved, too, like someone had taken a knife to Will’s skin. They were never as large or bold as the first, but they weren’t easy to hide. Will wore long-sleeved t-shirts even in the summer, compensating with cargo shorts. He understood now, a little. He didn’t want his soulmate exposed like that. He didn’t want their pain on display.
The marks hurt, too, when they came. Lee talked to Chiron about it, and Chiron talked to Will, but they couldn’t figure out any reason why. Chiron looked at him with a sad smile.
Will’s mouth went dry the day Son of Hades scratched around his wrist in a spiral. Nico. His soulmate had a name. He bit his lip to keep from crying from the pain of Nico’s words.
Will didn’t mind it after it settled. He learned to take it in stride. He clung to the hope it took Nico’s pain whenever he got a new mark. It just made him sad whenever a new one showed up. Someone had told his soulmate these things, and Nico somehow believed them. Nico must be very tender, Will thought, to hold onto everything. He must be so kind and gentle. He ached that his soulmate thought so lowly of himself. Nico was out there, all alone, and he had no one to help him care for himself. He had no one to cheer him up. Will held all of Nico’s ugly words close. He would correct them when the time came. He would keep these worries safe until his soulmate could let them go.
As Will got older, he became a better healer. He never got much better at archery, music, or any other godly skill of Apollo’s, but he did get better at healing. Will was grateful for the skill. He wanted to help others, to get them back on their feet and see them smile. He wanted to ease their pain. If he could do something in their time of need? Well, he counted himself blessed for that. Michael took Will into the operating rooms, now. Not the grim ones, but the more serious cases.
“Could use a little help here, sunshine,” He’d snap, and Will knew Mike meant no offense. So, Will learned. He learned ambrosia and nectar doses. He knew every Healing Hymn. He was starting to learn mortal medicine, too. He could wrap an Ace Bandage like a pro and even give shots when needed. He learned sterile technique and how to scrub instruments.
Michael showed him the paperwork, too, and the stocking.
“Can’t leave me to do all the gruntwork,” Mike grumbled. Will helped him out with a smile on his face.
Childish appeared on Will’s face one morning, just under his left cheekbone. It looked like a bruise, hollowing out his cheek. It made his face look sharper. Will wanted to ask why it was so bad to be childish. Will had turned twelve a little while ago, so Nico was probably still eleven. He thought it would be okay if Nico still wanted to play Mythomagic and watch Disney movies. Will liked all that stuff, too. Maybe they were demigods, but that didn’t mean they had to stop being kids.
Will couldn’t stop staring at his face in the mirror. A ghost stared back at him, childish crushed into his zygomatic bone. Will’s sister Rosie stumbled sleepily into the bathroom.
“Will? Shove over, Narcissus, some of us gotta get ready.” Rosie laughed as she hip-butted him and stood next to him at the counter. Then she gasped.
“Oh, Sunshine,” She murmured. She pulled Will into a hug.
“I’m okay,” Will said automatically, and he smiled at her to prove it.
Rosie’s eyes softened. She dug through her bag for her concealer and quirked an eyebrow hesitantly.
Will looked into the mirror at Nico’s childish. He looked back to Rosie and nodded slightly. Rosie swiped the brush over his cheekbone, the makeup cool on his skin. She ran her beauty blender under the sink, then squeezed it out.
“This is how you blend it out,” She said. Carefully, she daubed the sponge at Will’s face. After a minute, she let Will try.
Rosie taught him how to apply foundation and concealer. Her shade was just a ray too dark for Will, but that worked fine for the day. They went to the Aphrodite cabin that afternoon. Will came out with color swatches up and down his arms, a tube of color-correcting concealer, and a box of chocolates Silena’s dad had sent.
Will wore the concealer for a couple weeks while he got used to the stares and the word on his face. The letters were blurred out, but the inky color still showed through. Eventually, Will stopped covering it every day. He learned to smile when people’s eyes caught on the word, to put them at ease with his eyes. People were good about it at Camp Half-Blood. Soon, life moved on. Will forgot it was there. Sometimes, if Will’s reflection caught him by surprise, he’d wink down at it and make a silly face just to spite the childish. It wasn’t a bad thing, he swore to himself.
The campfire crackled happily and the campers sang a song about a drunken satyr. Will was singing along at the top of his lungs when he felt it. A new word sliced across his belly, and he hissed. Michael and Lee both snapped to look at Will, their hearing sharp as their Father’s.
“What’s wrong?” Michael snapped. Michael was always snapping; Will learned long ago he was just concerned.
Will smiled easily and tilted his head to wave him off. Will was used to it by now; he’d be alright. Lee’s eyes widened, then narrowed suddenly.
“Mike,” Lee said, “Take Will home.”
Will wanted to argue that he was alright, he could stay, they didn’t need to fuss over him–. Another set of letters slit just above his hipbone.
Michael reached a hand down, and Will took it. Michael yanked him off the ground and slung his arm around him, subtly taking some of Will’s weight.
“Come on, kid,” He muttered. “Let’s get you home.”
Will waited until they got home to look. Michael flicked on the lights as Will sat down on his bunk and lifted his shirt. Unlovable glinted in obsidian just under his belly button. Next to it on Will’s right hip, a new word looked like it’d been scratched in fresh ink. Will’s blood ran cold. A slur.
He looked up to Michael.
“Michael–” He said. His voice trembled a little.
Mike sat down beside him. “You’re okay, Will. Do you think it’s okay?” He asked seriously.
Will shook his head. “He shouldn’t– he shouldn’t feel that way, he shouldn’t believe it. It’s not– it’s not dirty. Dad loved men, so it’s okay, right? It’s not bad to like other boys?”
Michael’s face hardened to stone. He took off his armguard, the one he kept on even when he slept just like he slept with his bow by his bed. Will didn’t know if he’d ever seen Mike’s forearm bare.
The same word was written in sloppy orange.
“It’s not bad,” He said, “It’s not bad to like other boys. We’re Greek, for gods’ sakes, Will. It’s the rest of the world in our soulmates’ heads. It’s your job in this life to be happy. And as for the rest of the world? They can go to Hades with all that shit.”
He quieted for a second, strapping his guard back over his wrist and forearm.
“We just have to help them believe it’s not something to be ashamed of,” Michael said.
Will glanced up.
“Do you kn–”
“Yeah.” Michael scowled. He got that weasel-y look on his face that he always did when he was lining up a hard shot or done with the conversation. “But he’s not ready yet.”
Will nodded in acceptance. It was easier after that to hold Nico’s pain. Will just had to be strong for him every day. Nico was out there by himself. He was hurting, but he didn’t have to hurt forever. He wouldn’t– not if Will could help it. Will would show Nico he wasn’t all the hurtful words scarred over Will’s body. He couldn’t wait to hold his soulmate, to remind him every day of the goodness in him.
Will was twelve when Lee died. There were so many monsters. Will was useless, useless, useless as he watched a manticore swipe at Lee’s head. He was dead before he hit the ground. Will was sobbing, screaming, and there was so much going on but all he could see was Lee—
Someone dragged Will away. He was a healer, they needed him, he had to heal. There were so many people to heal. There were so many people injured. So many people dying. So many people dead.
Will moved from bed to bed, a slip of light, singing until his voice went hoarse and his throat choked up with tears and he thought he might be sick, and he was crying so hard he choked on the salt (when did he start crying?). Will thought he might be sick. His vision narrowed myopically. He focused only on the task at hand, whatever he could reach. He passed out nectar and wrapped bandages and tourniquets and splints and he stitched lacerations and sang–
Michael brought Lee’s corpse into the infirmary. Will screamed. Then, he sang. He grabbed Lee’s hand in his and started singing–
Until Michael ripped him off.
“He’s gone, Will,” Michael said, and he sounded utterly wrecked. “He’s gone.”
The neat handwriting on Lee’s body had gone gray with his death.
They had the funeral the next day, and Will embroidered the shroud. Neat, sterile rows of simple, interrupted stitches. It looked grotesque compared to the Demeter cabin’s gorgeous embroidery. Will could lace a person back together, but those stitches weren’t suited for beautiful things. He deserves better, Will thought bitterly. He deserves better.
Will removed the old paracord bracelet from Lee’s wrist and fastened it over Son of Hades encircling his wrist. Will gave Lee his own. They would be brothers, always. Now Lee could carry Will with him into the next life, and Will could keep some of Lee here at camp.
Will should have been able to help his brother. He’d been right there when the battle broke out. Will wanted to help, but he’d only been in the way. If he was a better fighter like Lee, a better archer like Michael, if he could sing at supersonic like Rosie, then maybe it would’ve been enough to save his brother.
Will felt the sting of new soulmarks on his chest as he stared into the flames. He didn’t even flinch.
Later, he’d find weak and wrong fresh against the old outsider. He stared at weak until his vision swam and he couldn’t see anymore.
The number of visible soulmarks had decreased around camp. It wasn’t uncommon to see kids in long sleeves in the summer, now. Aphrodite campers wore heavy bangles and bracelets around their wrists. Hephaestus’ children wore bandanas over their foreheads and around their arms. No one asked when someone wore long-sleeved shirts. Some campers' marks had grayed during the Battle of the Labyrinth, while others had gotten new marks that were simply too painful to share.
What Will once found beautiful and sacred just seemed like a sick joke, now. It was cruel when everyone else could see what your soulmate wanted buried.
Will knew when Beckendorf died. He’d been with Silena. She froze when she saw it– the mark on her wrist went gray. Silena clapped her hands over her mouth and howled as she crumbled to her knees. No one mentioned the blood-red mark still vibrant on her cheek, heartless scribbled harshly on her otherwise-perfect jawbone. Not when the deep-green had all gone gray.
Will had a couple more soulmarks by the Battle of Manhattan. Incompetent was the deepest, with disappointment gaining ground. Unworthy solidified over his left pectoral muscle. He traced the words gingerly, then donned a long-sleeved shirt and light armor. Who had the time to fret over soulmarks with war gnashing around the corner? He prayed Nico would be alright. No matter who won or lost, he just hoped Nico survived.
The Battle of Manhattan was awful. Truly awful. And once again, Will was stuck as he watched his brother die. Michael plummeted into the river with Williamsburg Bridge, and Rosie had gone down with him. Will was stuck at the sidelines. There wasn’t a body for him to heal.
There was Annabeth, though. Will stilled his shaking hands as best he could. The knife wound was bad, her pulse thready, her skin alabaster and clammy with sweat. Please, Will thought. Please. Every breath he took wheezed. His lungs were still full of dust and rubble from when Percy collapsed the bridge.
He sang.
It was all he could do, he thought bitterly. All he could do was heal. He couldn’t even do that, sometimes. For all Lee’s talk of what a great healer Will would be, Will never lived up to his hopes. Lee had been a good healer, a better musician, a knockout swordsman, and the best archer at camp. Rosie had the prettiest voice for hymns and the cheeriest bedside manner. Michael had always been better, calmer, more experienced. Michael was the best healer they had. He should be here, not Will. They needed Michael more. Michael could defend himself, too, not a lousy shot on the bow like Will.
Will’s vision twisted until the scope focused on Annabeth. Right when he needed it. Western medicine prevented infection while his Hymns closed the wound. Ambrosia and nectar for accelerated healing, to take the edge off some of the pain. The gritty streets were no sterile field, but he would do the best he could. He was a combat medic, damnit, their best now that–
He was the oldest, now. So he had to succeed, weak as he was. Annabeth had to make it. The stupid on her chest didn’t match the not smart enough on Percy’s just so Will could let her die. He refused to let Percy’s silver imposter dull.
Annabeth was still alive. Will just had to keep her here.
Will’s instincts took over after that. After he stabilized Annabeth, he worked on the others. He sewed lacerations and sang over gut wounds that split the fascia. He shoved intestines back in bodies. He reattached limbs in their proper place. He gave out ambrosia like candy, trusting the demigods to know their limit. He sang to head wounds and knife wounds and claw wounds and poison, and he sang and he sang and he sang.
He couldn’t sing enough when they brought Silena in, her beautiful face melted by Drakon venom. He couldn't sing enough when Clarisse begged him, “just one more song,” when half her marks had already grayed. He just comforted Clarisse as she tried not to cry and got out of her way when she raged.
Some campers made it. Some campers didn’t. He closed their eyes with shaking fingers. Monsters roared around him. Will thought, is this it?
Then the ground split open.
Will hadn’t seen Nico in so many years, but he looked like an angel in that moment. He was a heavenly force, unearthly and darkly gorgeous. His Stygian Iron sword pulsed black and nightshade just like Will’s soulmarks did. Nico was their saving grace.
While the battle ended soon after for most, Will’s battle dragged out days and weeks. He fought the monsters long after their deaths as he worked to keep his friends alive.
Will felt sick as they burned Michael’s shroud. He was responsible for it, now, as Cabin Seven’s Head Counselor. It was him, Kayla, and Austin left. Where had all his siblings gone? Will felt like sobbing. They’d been twice as many before the war. Now it was up to him.
He kept a careful grip on himself through the funeral rites.
Jake Mason came up to him afterwards, his face hooded in the flickering shadows. His purple soulmarks had grayed sometime in the battle.
“I just wanted to say.” Jake cleared his throat. “Michael was a good man. He was… a good friend, too. And I know– I know you’ll make him proud.”
Will pulled Jake into a hug. Then they carried on like nothing happened.
Shortly after the battle, the childish slipped off Will’s face, and he prayed to Apollo in thanks for small mercies. He couldn’t tell if Nico didn’t believe it anymore or if he stopped believing it was a bad thing. Will hoped Nico could turn a new corner.
Nico stayed a couple weeks after, always bundled head to toe even in the depths of August. Will tried to talk to him a couple times, but he was aloof, distant. Cold. And Will, for all his smiles and energy and warmth, couldn’t get through. Will didn’t want to scare him away. He didn’t think it was a good idea right now to tell Nico they were soulmates. Nico needed time to rest and acclimate to camp, Will reasoned (it wasn’t the slur on Will’s hipbone that deterred him, it wasn’t).
Will didn’t have much time to chase him, though, because he was Head Counselor now. And Head Medic. And Head of the Infirmary. And too many people still needed help. God, Will didn’t know what he was doing. He was running frantic, struggling to walk in the footsteps Lee and Michael left behind. He was sprinting just to keep up.
Nico’s good spell seemed to end as life returned to normal. Will grit his teeth as soulmarks etched themselves fiercer into his skin. Creepy was getting deeper. So were outsider and alone. Weird glistened like the night sky on Will’s left hand. Cursed had grown, now a thick black circlet Will wore over his bicep. Will didn’t bother to cover them anymore.
If anyone asked if he was alright, Will just smiled. He was all smiles now, honey-sweet and warm.
“Don’t worry about me, darlin’.” Will learned his Southie made for good bedside manner; it put people at ease. He’d also learned nectar worked well as an energy drink if you were on your twenty-ninth hour awake. It kept the tunnel vision from swirling into spins.
Somewhere in that mess, Nico slipped away.
Will was used to the marks by now. They’d hit a lull for a while, but they returned with new purpose. New ones came less frequently, now. Mostly, the old ones flared back up. Untrustworthy. Liar. The slur on Will’s hipbone. Forgotten. Alone. Incompetent. Outcast. Cursed. Disappointment. Weak. The old words stung against Will’s chest and lungs and they seemed to nip down to his bones. They spilled like ink down his spine and across his shoulders, knifing down his arms and crowding his ribs and chest. They were impossible to hide. Anyone who saw Will knew his soulmate was in pain. Most people only carried two or three marks, maybe three to seven (and there was something about holy numbers, wasn’t there?). Will carried twenty-six.
Will laughed darkly, sometimes. There was nothing funny about them; he just couldn’t help it. It was either laugh or let it crush him. His heart ached for his Nico. He cried about it sometimes, alone in his bunk at night. They’d come so close. Will should’ve taken his chance and pounced. He should have grabbed Nico and held him tight and never let him go. Will should’ve shaken him and shown him all the words and told it was okay, that he was safe now. That he didn’t have to be alone.
Will had known Nico felt lonely, had seen how he felt like an outcast, and still let Nico ice himself out. Will cursed himself for being so stupid. He’d scorned the entire point of the soulmarks.
Nico was so close to finally finding a home– now he was by himself again. He was suffering, and Will couldn’t help. Nico had been alone so much of his life, how much more could he stand? Will started praying for Nico again. He lived in fear of his marks turning gray.
Will had barely adjusted to being head counselor and head medic when the second war began. It was shorter than the first, and Will thanked the gods for that.
Will delivered a baby. Never in his life had he thought he would. Clarisse had knocked down his doors with a storm in her eyes. The gray and red words twinning on her cheekbones scowled at Will like warpaint.
“Solace.” She barked, and there was something manic to it. “Now.”
Will jogged after her.
Will delivered a baby.
His hands were still shaking when Cecil and Lou Ellen stalked up to him after. They were dressed in all black with their faces painted like spies out of a bad action movie.
“Come on,” Cecil said, and he handed Will the eyeblack. “We’re going to scout the enemy. Maybe lay some traps.”
Will eyed the bag Cecil had slung over his shoulder. Land mines, probably, and Greek fire. Best to have a healer in case anything went wrong.
That was how they’d found Nico. Or rather, Nico had found them. Nico, in his godawful Hawaian shirt that showed off his fading arms. His arms were fading. Oh, shit. Will swore he could see through them in the sunlight; they looked more like smoke than flesh.
Will shoved it to the back of his mind. They had a battle to get through.
If Will sat still for too long, he thought he might be sick. He kept seeing Octavian grandstanding by the onager; the snag of his toga; the spring of the weapon; the way it flung his body; the sickening sound as it hit the ground.
Murderer, Will thought, I am a murderer.
So he healed, instead. Kayla and Austin were old enough to help out, but Will didn’t want them in the infirmary. They were too young to know the aftermath. He let them cut bandages and treat minor wounds, but he handled the major injuries by himself. Sometimes, an older Athena camper helped.
Will wrapped a spare Ace bandage over Son of Hades on his wrist, moving Lee’s bracelet to the other. He’d tell Nico when it was time, when there was no war around. The bandage worked miracles when he got antsy in counselor meetings. He found himself replacing it sometimes, whenever a patient needed the one on his body. He had so many patients. He found himself carrying all kinds of things now, disinfectant and band-aids and advil and nectar all tucked into the pockets of Will’s cargo shorts.
Will’s biggest concern was Nico di Angelo, who was fading as Will watched. Will checked on Nico between every patient. He sang until he glowed, and gods, wasn’t that embarrassing? That hadn’t happened before, but he kept singing. He treated Nico with nectar and ambrosia as often as he could, careful to keep the fever at bay.
When the night hours got long, Will slipped himself a drop or two of nectar. He was careful not to take enough to affect their stocks for patients, but microdosing did the trick. It kept him up through the witching hours when the night threatened to steal his patients. Will settled for grab-naps when he had to, but gods– it was almost easier just to stay up. Will couldn’t remember when he’d last slept in his own cabin.
Finally, they no longer seemed in imminent threat of losing Nico to the Shadow Realm. His arms were solid again, although still ghostly pale. They carried no marks like Will’s, and Will was relieved that he spared Nico that.
It was Kayla who forced Will to pause. She caught his shoulder roughly, and Will spun, bobbling on his heel with the force. His eyes narrowed on her fluffy ginger hair streaked with hot-pink box dye.
“Will,” She said, and she sounded scared. “I can take it from here.”
“Hey, don’t worry, I got it,” Will assured her, and he shrugged her hand off. He smiled. He was the older brother– this was his responsibility.
“It’s alright, Kayla. I got it under control. There’s nothin’ too serious right now, nothin’ I can’t handle on my own, okay?” Will was a terrible liar, but he’d become too good at this lie.
Kayla’s lips thinned.
“Then let me handle it.”
Will started to protest.
“If you don’t stop, you’ll just end up another patient,” Kayla reasoned. Will took offense to that, but Kayla held up one finger.
“Just– sleep. Eat. Take a break. Sit down. Please.” Kayla’s eyes had gone round and shiny.
Will hated it.
She was fifteen, a year and change younger than him, but gods, Will felt so old. She needed someone to rely on. Will put on his best Lee Fletcher voice.
“You don’t have to worry about me, sweetheart,” Will said.
Kayla flinched, then rallied.
“I am worried, Will! The triage is done, the emergencies are all taken care of. I haven’t seen you in three days. So go home to our cabin and sleep,” Kayla demanded.
Will thought about protesting again. His throat closed up tight. Had he neglected his siblings? He’d been trying to help, trying to keep them safe, but had they needed him? This was the first war they’d really seen, oh gods, of course they needed someone. Gods, he was a bad brother. Will just couldn’t stop moving. He didn’t know what would happen when he finally went still. He didn’t know who would be there for his patients, for Nico–
“Solace, go to sleep,” Nico called out from the bed behind him.
Will kind of wanted to die.
“You’re not doing anyone good if you burn yourself out,” Kayla said, not unkindly.
Will looked her in the eye and nodded. He could trust his sister. He could tell she needed that.
“Call me if you have any questions,” Will said seriously.
Kayla nodded.
“If you need anything at all, come get me. If something comes up and you’re out of your depth or anyone takes a turn for the worse, just let me know,” He said. He offered Kayla a tired smile.
She rolled her eyes and nodded.
“I’m just gonna… step into my office,” Will said.
He closed the door behind him and crashed face-first into the cot in the Head Medic’s office. He was out like a light right after.
He dreamt of Octavian and onagers. In his dream the crows had voices, and they all screamed “murderer” at him.
The farther out from the war they got, the more Will settled back inside his body. He hadn’t realized he’d been out of it until he was back in it again. Once the tunnel vision left, he was shaky and nauseous. Then, exhausted. Then parched. His throat hurt so bad he thought he could never get enough water. He was starving, too, but he started back slowly.
Kayla and Austin let him back into the infirmary. Most of the patients were making progress healing. All the immediate cases were long gone, one way or another. Will had missed the funeral.
And Nico was making good on his promise. He spent three days in the infirmary helping out, and Will couldn’t help but feel warm while he was there. Nico seemed stronger, too. More corporeal. Will was so happy to have him around. Nico was every bit the friend Will hoped he’d be, if a bit more dramatic and snarkier than anticipated. Will tried his best to give Nico a place. The infirmary wasn’t much, especially for people unused to healing and living around the injured, but it was a quiet space for Nico to be. Will wanted Nico to belong somewhere.
Will didn’t push anything too fast. He kept his soulmarks covered and steered clear of the topic when anyone pressed. Nico never pressed. He seemed to avoid eye contact with any and all soulmarks. Will decided he’d let Nico decide when he was ready.
As both camps healed from the war, Nico did, too. Some of the words faded or shrank on Will’s body. Eventually, the slur on Will’s hipbone disappeared altogether, leaving only smooth skin. Will wanted to cry or sing when he saw. He was so happy, he couldn’t breathe. He didn’t care what kind of relationship he had with Nico; Will just wanted him to get better. And he did.
It was a couple weeks after Nico asked Will out when he realized the truth. They were goofing around on the docks. Apollo was missing, but the sun still shone warm and golden on the Earth below. Indian Summer: it was Will’s favorite time of year.
“See, a little sun won’t kill you,” He teased Nico.
Nico promptly shoved Will off the dock into the lake.
The water was cool on Will’s skin, so he floated under the surface for a second before kicking back up. He floated on his back.
“I was hoping to catch a dip anyways.” Will smiled airily.
Nico rolled his eyes.
“Come on, I’ll pull you up.”
Will kicked over lazily and hoisted himself up on the dock, grabbing Nico’s hand. Nico pulled him the rest of the way up. As soon as he was stable, Will pulled Nico down with him, laughing.
“Ow! Aren’t you supposed to do no harm?” Nico laughed.
Will loved it when he laughed. His entire face lit up shyly. It was like the sun breaking through clouds after a year of rain. It was like the first hum of music.
Nico’s eyes locked on something, and his face fell.
Will looked down to where Nico was focused, and he winced. Lee’s bracelet and the sleeve of Will’s swim shirt had slid down, leaving Son of Hades on display.
“Will–” Nico started
“Nico–”
Nico looked frantic, so Will fell quiet.
“How long have you known?” He asked. The words got stuck in his throat.
Will’s heart broke. He prepared himself for the worst.
“Since you left camp for the first time, right after Bianca died.”
Will played with his paracord bracelet.
Nico’s eyes flashed in panic. They skittered to the shadow of the dock over the lake. Fear spiked through Will, and he grabbed Nico’s wrist.
“I’m sorry,” Will said, “I should’ve told you. I just… didn’t want to rush things, or push things if you weren’t ready. And, I mean, I wasn’t totally sure if you’d… I mean, I’ve always known I liked boys, but I didn’t know if you were–” Will thought of the old slur on his hip– “ready for that. And it doesn’t even have to be like that, you know? I mean, Cecil and Lou Ellen are soulmates and they’re not like that. I just don’t want you to feel like you have to be with me, you know, just because of Apollo and the Fates and dumb soulmate words. I mean, now that I know, of course I’d… like to be with you. But I just want you to know.”
Will smiled awkwardly, cutting himself off mid-ramble. Nico looked like a fish out of water, one second from diving straight into the lake.
“It was you,” Nico breathed. “All this time, and you knew.”
Will flinched.
“I’m sorry.”
Nico breathed deep. He laughed a little, a tinny sound, and Will hated how helpless it sounded.
“I’ve been worried all this time about making a fool of myself in front of you, or dating you when I knew my soulmate’s still out there, and all this time… you knew.”
Nico’s face split again, shifting to wonder and then a smile that was blinding. Something cracked in Will’s chest, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He released Nico’s wrist and played with his fingers, instead. Nico had long, elegant hands with delicate fingers. Will traced the callouses from his sword.
“Yeah,” Will admits painfully. He stared resolutely at a loose nail in the dock. “I should’ve told you after the war. Maybe you would’ve stayed.”
Nico ducked to catch Will’s eye and shook his head.
“It wouldn’t have helped,” He said simply. He pursed his lips, warding off any questions from Will.
Will swallowed, nerves making his whole body hum vibrato.
“You have me now,” He offered weakly. He didn’t know if he could be any good, if Nico wanted to be that serious yet. Gods, they’d just started dating, hadn’t they? “If you want.”
Nico stared forward with determination in his eyes and the ghost of a smile in one dimple.
“You have me,” He echoed. “If you want. I mean, you have my… words… on your body, I’m guessing. So, it’s your call, too, Solace.”
Will nodded fiercely. They leaned close, hovering in each others’ space. Will noticed Nico’s eyes weren’t just black. They were deep brown, threaded with hazel and onyx and gold. His breath caught in his lungs, and he thought about leaning forward and catching Nico’s full Italian lips in his own.
Nico leaned forward and brushed a piece of wet hair off Will’s face. Will’s heart stuttered in his chest. The gesture was somehow more intimate than a kiss would’ve been.
For the first time, Will felt Nico’s eyes roam his face, his neck, over his body. Looking for his words.
“Do you want to see them?” Will asked. He didn’t hesitate, pulling his shirt off over his head. His skin thrummed from the contact with the sun. He wanted to bask in the day like a cat.
Will glanced back at Nico. His eyes were wide and spooked. He looked again like he wanted to bolt.
Will glanced down at his chest, his arms, his stomach, his ribs. Weird. Annoying. Unloveable. Cursed. He’d worn them so long, he’d almost forgotten what they meant (who they belonged to).
Will winced.
“Sorry,” He said. He reached for his shirt. Nico grabbed his wrist.
“It’s okay,” He said tensely.
Will didn’t believe it; Nico couldn’t look at him.
“I didn’t realize,” Nico said, “That I gave you… so many.”
“It’s okay,” Will parroted. He put on his warmest voice with a slip of southern drawl. He squeezed Nico’s hand and offered a radiant smile. “It’s what I’m here for, stormcloud.”
Nico’s eyebrows furrowed offendedly.
“Stormcloud? You’ve got to be kidding me,” He said, but he didn’t protest any more. Will’s smile dialed up a couple dozen watts.
Will drew circles on Nico’s wrist absently.
“Do you want to talk about them?” He asked.
Nico’s eyes shuddered instantly.
“No,” He said quickly.
Will tried not to deflate. He wanted to know where they came from, why Nico thought so of himself. He wanted to help Nico realize he was more than what he thought. But it wasn’t about what Will wanted, right? He had to do what was best for Nico. His soulmate. Oh, gods, Nico was his soulmate.
A tiny sun burned bright in Will’s chest.
“Okay,” He said, “Whenever you’re ready. It’s up to you. We do this together.”
Some of the ice fell out of Nico’s eyes.
“Together,” He agreed.
For now, though, they laid together under the sun until Cecil came to show them off the dock and up to the pavilion for dinner.
When Will put his shirt back on, he didn’t feel like he was hiding. He didn’t feel like he had a secret. He was freer, now, somehow, and he remembered what Maron had said as he drove Will to camp: ‘There are no lies between soulmates… it’s like feeling whole again’.
Will thought he might be right.