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Nico has never been a talkative person. It was easy to mistake him for being one, with his rantings about card games and stat points and his favorite greek gods, his sheepish shrugs and casual smiles when he caught himself rambling.
But then you’d notice that it was only when his sister, Bianca, was around.
He was skittish, silent as a shadow, often huddling in the corner of whatever space provided. (Apollo’s chariot for one, he sat at the back, an arm rubbing the other, quietly watching everyone laugh and argue. And, for the brief time he was welcomed in camp half-blood was spent tucked away in the Hermes cabin, counting his cards and fiddling with his figurines alone.)
In the end, even after her death- especially after her death- Nico could never pinpoint what exactly made him feel so excitable and, well, reckless around his sister. He revealed things about himself that he would have hesitated about before (“Uhm- I’m Nico Di Angelo, it’s italian I think- I’m ten years old and I like mythomagic! Oh- and uh- it’s nice to meet you!”). His classmates ended up teasing and mocking him for his collection, the one he so often held close to his chest and in his heart, but he didn’t care, for the simple reason that Bianca didn’t.
Her gifts, maybe, his life before the school was a blur of colors and memories, but Bianca was always there, hair in a braid and something to give him (what he didn’t say, was how much of his cards, from the best and the rarest to the worst of them, was obtained at that elusive hotel). Or it was her smiles, like moonlight on a blooming flower (Nico wouldn’t go as far as to call himself the flower but it’s close) and the sensation of finally being home.
And so, a month and four days before his eleventh birthday, he left, in a mess that left permanent cracks and fissures on the campgrounds. He left, because there was nothing left for him here now, not smiles and gifts and not an endless tick of a clock as he held Percy’s promise in his head and waited for her to come back.
(Day three of waiting and there’s a tug in his heart and a pounding in his ears and something, though he didn’t know at the time, telling him that someone died. He ignored it then, because Bianca wouldn’t do that, his sister wouldn’t leave him a second time would she?
Percy’s speaking to him, guilt and gentle words coming from him, but all Nico hears is the same pounding in his ears because he knew, he knew.)
So, he left, Percy’s voice ringing at the back of his mind, and Bianca’s ringing just a little bit louder.
-
His favorite card has always been the hellhound, four stars with it’s highest stat in speed, easily outrunning most others and allowing him to start the turn with a bang.
Hades, wasn’t a card he particularly liked but it was one he needed, because it was the only card he was missing then to finish off his underworld team. From what little he knew from his small circle of mythomagics, the use of an underworld team was never popular but Nico thought he as long as he could just about make it work, he was content.
-
The year after Bianca died (a trick answer to an unasked question, because his sister died on December 18th, and he realized it on the first of January the following year), was, for once, against his expectations (his preference even), not spent alone.
Minos was a strange spirit, he insisted on being his humble servant yet arrogance and condensation dripped with his every word.
The first time Nico summoned the dead, it was an accident, on no sleep and very little food and a desperate wish to see someone familiar again. King Minos, was a lesser known card, with mediocre stats and one off abilities, Nico knew, he remembered, because that same night he threw his card into his makeshift campfire and watched it crumple into ash. (It took exactly two minutes and eleven seconds for it to burn completely, the material was good quality and his fire was weak-willed with dying embers.)
Needless to say, Minos was terrible company. Oftentimes, he talked a lot of big game for someone who was thousands of years dead, and pestered Nico about how it was their destiny to work together. He called mythomagics a childish game, almost tempting him to stop burning them out of spite.
Nico has tried to send him back (to hell? Heaven? To the underworld for all he cared.) on multiple occasions but the ghost was stubborn and he in turn was exhausted, in the end, he resigned himself to tuning him out, all too used to this song and dance.
But then.
Minos considered him carefully, finally quieting down. His voice was low and scratchy and wispy like leaves (well, molded, half eaten through by caterpillars) in the wind. The king’s faux politeness was especially grating to his ears. He opened his mouth, for what Nico was undoubtedly sure was another horrible suggestion.
But then.
Then.
“Would you like to get your sister back?”
And Nico stopped thinking.
The year after Bianca died was spent forging a new sword, learning new abilities and laser focused on a single impossible goal.
He knew better than to call it a dream, because he was going to make it come true.
-
(Ultimately, Nico should’ve known better than to think that he was good enough to succeed.)
-
The end of the world came to no one’s surprise, and certainly not his.
And really, the only thing surprising, he supposed, was how long it took for their house of cards to fall down.
-
To be perfectly honest, being in the underworld made him nervous. More than that, it made him restless.
There wasn’t really a sky, and no sun, no moon, he couldn’t tell how much time had passed without silently counting in his head- and of course, he never had the concentration to last long on that. It’s scary, he thinks, how easily time can slip away from him. (Briefly, he thinks of a hotel, he thinks of how he must’ve missed, how he’s not supposed to be alive.)
Four days. It took him four days to convince Hades to do something. That they were better off fighting than waiting for Kronos to inevitably strike them down.
(Bianca was the better speaker between them, Hades- their father- was right in thinking that she’d be able to do so much more, much much quicker.)
He doesn’t dwell on it, if only because he’s already wasted so much time.
Immediately, he shadow travels to just outside the Empire State building, and takes a heavy breath as a wave of drowsiness almost knocks him over, an oversight on his part, because he forgot that Hades could just take him there himself. His father appears mere seconds later, looking mildly surprised (not impressed, he never was) that he could teleport, too.
Four days and the place is seconds away from being overrun. Nico inhales again, and with a shout that sounds more like a choked cry and a tear in the ground, summons everything he could.
(“Hey Percy,” He called out, meekly but just loud enough to be heard over the roar of the ongoing battle. His sword dragged behind him, in an erratic clink, clink, clink noise like glass clicking against each other as he limped towards the older teen. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for not telling you about Hades.”
Percy softened slightly, a far cry from his previously murderous expression the last time Nico tried to apologize, it ended quickly as Percy jolted when thunder rumbled from behind him, “That’s really nice of you, Nico.” He turned around, face clouded with determination, but undeniably preoccupied, “But I gotta go.”
Then he left, on what was likely a one way trip up the elevator to Olympus.
It was the end of the world, Percy had his part to play, he had his. But was it so wrong that he didn’t want to be left here to die alone?
A telkhine came from behind him, muzzle scrunched and fangs bared and he turned around just in time to strike it on the flat side of his sword, causing it to stumble back, but not enough to kill.
Fumbling around with his weapon, Minos was the only person to ever have tried to teach him how to swordfight, with minimal results because Nico was small and scrawny and most of the time, too much of a coward to ever fight properly when teleporting out was an option, Nico raised it above his head and brought it down as hard as he could.)
And truthfully, in the final hours, a shallow cut in his thigh and a wound to his head from being roughly tackled to the ground by a nameless monster, he was convinced that this was it. This was it. This was how he died. (He briefly wondered if Bianca, seconds away from her untimely death, knew that this was how she would go, too.)
But it wasn’t.
Because Percy did it.
They survived.
(Because, like always, Nico is wrong.)
-
The Lotus Hotel and Casino was a closed off space, with glowing lights and limitless games meant to do everything but made you think about ever leaving.
His favorite room, however, was his bedroom. It was where he kept all his treasures; his mythomagic cards, all the plushies he won on the claw machine, and his sister as they decided to share a room together.
Nico was not afraid to admit that it worked, with soft sheets and softer pillows and all the things he loved in the world, how could he ever think of leaving?
(There were also windows scattered all around it, refracting light, and at least then, away from the shadows he’d later grow used to, he had felt seen.)
-
The worst year of his life, weirdly enough, wasn't when Bianca died. In fact, it wasn’t even when the world nearly ended.
The worst year of his life came afterwards.
-
For the first few weeks, Percy’s wish didn’t change anything.
Maybe that was a little bit unfair of an assertion, it was a nice, meaningful wish really! He didn’t want to sound ungrateful, because he’s sure it’s changed the lives of hundreds of demigods for the better.
(It was just- Nico wasn’t one of them.)
He did what he was most used to, he left the camp, he slept during the day and traveled at night where his powers came to the fullest. (No one comes after him, even though he knows they have the resources to, and for that, he is thankful.)
-
Nico always imagined his sister’s deaths in various ways.
For the longest time, he saw her lifeless body, blood and broken bones coming out of split skin and a figure, shrouded in shadows- a monster hovering over her, face shaded in red and smiling with too many teeth. (It’s Percy, it always ends up being Percy he looks at.)
It’s never changed, not until now, because as it turns out, the end of the world made for an excellent distraction and he’s never quite allowed himself to imagine anything different.
It was against Talos, one of Hephaetus’s creations, Percy had explained, tentatively, she stole a figurine she said you were missing. The plan against Talos was- it was my idea though.
Percy was like that, putting the blame on himself first and foremost, and it might’ve worked, if Nico was actually listening. Nico knows what will happen before he hears it, it doesn’t make it any less shocking though, I’m sorry Nico, and he hates how genuine he sounds, she died.
.
.
.
He sees Bianca, burning in the greek fire Haphaetus was known so well for rigging his machines with, limbs blackened and flaring green, half charred face and voice so gargled he can’t even make out her screams.
He sees her bones brittle and snapped, under too much pressure, when the steel lifts, theres a mangled corpse at the bottom, an unrecognizable heap of raw skin and exposed flesh.
He sees her laid out on the dirt caked floor, shrapnel in her lungs and metal shards buried in her neck, through her back, and red, red, red, red, red-
He sees Percy, too.
Percy, drowning in emerald wisps, skin burned to scarlet then to black, Percy is resistant to fire, and this time, even with the harsh crackling of the flames, he can hear his screams.
Percy, crushed under the heel of the giant, a defined crack echoes in the air, and perhaps in an attempt to spare him the anguish, it doesn’t lift, not this time.
Percy, bleeding out on the floor, metal carved onto his face and littered around and marking his healthy skin, Bianca standing over him, hands over her mouth, bloodied and shaking but alive.
Percy, if he had just gone with his (stupid, stupid) plan, the hero who fell in the land without rain.
He sees his sister sob over the death of Percy Jackson (there isn’t a body left, there often never is), he sees himself comforting her, a little awkward if not well-meaning, because Percy was just another stranger in his life, wasn’t he?
(To his horror, it happens again, it happens again.
He hates how fate never allows him to imagine both of them alive.)
-
“Nico?” The lit in her voice suggested it was a question, like she wasn’t really sure he was there, “Do you ever feel like- like you should’ve died?”
Nico jumps to her defense immediately, a frown on his face, “Of course not!”
Someone is carrying a piece of cloth- Annabeth, he dimly recognizes, how did the tradition go again? A shroud, that’s what it was.
On the shroud, carefully embroidered on is a trident and a glowing bronze sword, and somewhere inside him, Nico knows.
Yet- “No life would be worth yours, sis.” He says, earnestly, clasping her hands in his, he smiles and the stars twinkle above him. He doesn’t stay long enough to see Bianca's face though. (And how badly he wants to see a smile.)
(There weren’t any tears until he wakes up crying over ever wishing it was true.)
-
Death is something Nico is familiar with.
He feels it travel through his veins, creeping along his spine and up in his brain whenever another mortal life is taken, he feels the feather light presence of the dead all around him, never fully tethered to the earth.
Nico is used to death, closes his eyes and sees it happen.
But even then, today it seems, death wanted to get just a little bit closer to him.
His head spins, pain abruptly blossoming on his side. He blinks away the white spots in his vision and sees thick, black fur, fuzzy and wild enough to look like a hedgehog’s quills. Amber eyes and claws slammed against the ground next to him.
There is a hellhound above him, drooling and growling through rows of teeth. He had shadow traveled to a clearing, with a crashing wave of fatigue, when it pounced on him without warning. Usually being the son of Hades allowed him leeway with them, opting to play fetch with the only company it’s likely seen in months but it appears he couldn’t even do that right.
Two thousand attack stat, a part of him whispers with awe, the part delirious with pain, the one, against all odds, still in shock, and four thousand five hundred speed, you’ll never see them coming. Still, shame finds its way with him easily, at being so swiftly defeated.
He doesn’t actually say anything though, eyes wide and pinned down. It’s almost alarming how quickly crimson fills his vision, it’s almost alarming how calm he is about it all. (He’s seen it a thousand times before.)
He can’t warp away because it’s broad daylight on a hot summer day, and he hasn’t been sleeping right. His sword, with pitiful ease, was knocked out of his hand and skidded away along the grass. If he tried hard enough, he could imaple its torso with a spike, or make the earth swallow it up, but his body feels sluggish and dizzy, Nico doesn’t try anything.
Nico doesn’t scream or beg, and stays deathly silent.
The wind whistles somewhere, marking his final moments awake.
(He can’t even die correctly, in battle and for his friends and for the world like his sister did, he dies just afterwards, on the brink of a new, happier era for them.
I’m as old as my sister was when she died.)
Nico closes his eyes, something caught in his lungs and counts one, two, three, four-
-mercifully, it doesn’t take long for it to fade to black.
-
“Hey, sis? What do I do when I’m older and you’re- you’re not there…”
Bianca paused, but smiled and ruffled his hair, “Well, you’ll have friends, teachers, oh! Maybe even a partner!” She says teasingly, causing him to stammer, before he could come up with a retort however, her smile tones down slightly, almost slipping off and into something sadder.
“You won’t need me anymore.”
-
The next time he wakes, Percy is sitting next to him, eyes green and worried.
I’m glad you’re okay, he says, hand placed delicately on his bedside like he’s scared coming any closer would cause Nico to scamper away.
You don’t have to be here, Nico responds, after a beat, rolling over to ease the pain, and to make himself feel smaller, safer.
Percy shakes his head, in quiet playful exasperation, worn down by tiredness. I know I don’t, he replies bluntly, but what if I wanted to be, hm?
They sit down- Nico lays, exhaustion and a headache ever present- and Percy tells him how Bianca sent them one last iris message at where he was. How, taking Mrs O’Leary, Percy went there as quickly as he could and found him in a bloody pile on the forest floor next to another hellhound. He tells him how it’s going to be okay.
And, how fitting, Nico thinks, blinking back the wetness in his eyes, that once again, Bianca ends up being the reason he lives.
(He spends the rest of the day crying, Percy telling him that, even if his sister isn’t there, he’ll always have people supporting him here at camp half-blood. He doesn’t say it like a promise but it doesn’t matter, because even to Nico, it rings loud like the truth.)