Chapter Text
Warm fingers glided across his forehead before gentle pressure was applied just below his hairline. Some sort of fabric was being secured—soft, cotton-like, and comforting. He didn’t care what it was; all he knew was that it felt good, and he could wrap himself in it and die happy.
He could hear soft murmuring around him but his brain was too fogged up to do anything more than float in bliss. So he focused on the feeling of the fingertips across his skin—steady and nimble, making its way across his arms and legs.
He tried opening his eyes, though he doesn’t remember when he closed them. He finds it hard to crack his eyes open, his eyelids are too heavy. He tries to move his arms next, in hopes to catch the hand that was on him, but he finds he couldn’t lift them.
With a soft sigh, he gave up, surrendering to the warmth of the touch and letting sleep take over. Just before slipping beneath the gentle veil of unconsciousness, he thought he heard a quiet chuckle.
Warmth seeps into his bones and smile tugged on his lips. What a beautiful sound.
~~~
Nico woke up sweating bullets, jerking upright into a seated position. His heart pounded like a war drum in his chest, and his breath came in sharp, shallow gasps. The room was dim, and for a moment, he couldn’t remember where he was—or why his arms ached and his head felt like it had been cracked open and glued back together.
“Oh, you’re awake,” a soft voice murmured behind him.
He whipped his head around so fast his vision blurred.
“Who are—” he started, voice rising in panic, but a pair of warm fingers pressed gently over his mouth, cutting him off.
“Shhh,” the voice whispered again, firm but gentle. “You’ll wake the others. Don’t be so loud.”
Nico blinked, confused. The touch withdrew slowly, and he sat frozen for a beat before trying again—quieter this time.
“Who are you?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper. “Where are we?”
“You’re in the infirmary,” the voice replied. It was calm, unhurried. “Austin and Kayla found you on the far side of the island near a wrecked yacht. Though... I guess it’s not really a yacht anymore, huh? More like driftwood. How did you even manage that? I mean—impressive, but... wow.”
Nico flushed. The heat in his cheeks felt unnatural, like it didn’t belong on someone still reeling from a near-death experience. Oh, right, he thought, the yacht trip.
It came back to him in pieces. The letter. The news. His father’s flat tone informing him he’d been accepted into some elite boarding school in Italy. That he’d be leaving soon. Very soon. Nico hadn’t taken it well.
He didn’t want to leave. Not New York. Not his friends.
After days of cold silences, heated arguments, and dinners spent staring into his plate, Nico had decided—if he was going out, he was going out on his own terms. One last act of rebellion. One final “fuck you” to his father.
Stealing the yacht had been Percy’s idea. It wasn’t a good one apparently.
He rubbed at his face, the memory throbbing behind his eyes. He glanced around the room, finally taking in the details of where he’d landed.
Beds. Lots of them. Neatly arranged in rows against the walls, each with wooden frames and thick, cushioned mattresses—definitely not the usual sterile metal bunks he associated with infirmaries. There was something warm about the room, like a rustic lodge more than a hospital.
To his left, beside a small window, lay Bianca. She looked peaceful, her face half-lit by the dim
light leaking through the curtain. He couldn’t see much through the glass—it was too dark outside—but he could make out the silhouettes of Hazel and Piper resting in beds to his right.
Directly across from him were the others. Percy. Jason. Annabeth. Leo. Frank. All of them still unconscious, their breathing steady, their bodies still.
“They’re not bleeding out, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
Nico jumped at the voice again.
“Oh—no, that’s not what—” he stammered, trailing off. The other person chuckled quietly, and he let out a breath, running a hand through his hair.
“You’re still healing,” they said, their tone softening. “You should try to sleep. When everyone wakes up tomorrow, I promise I’ll give you a better explanation.”
Nico hesitated, but the weight of exhaustion tugged at him like a tide. His muscles ached, and the adrenaline from waking up was already fading.
He gave a small nod, cheeks still warm with lingering embarrassment. “Okay,” he mumbled.
Without another word, he lay back down, purposely rolling onto his side to face Bianca and away from the presence still standing nearby. It was easier, somehow, to sleep with her in his line of sight.
Soft giggles echoed behind him, followed by the sound of retreating footsteps as the person quietly exited the room.
The door whispered shut.
And then—silence.
Nico closed his eyes and, with a quiet sigh, willed himself to sleep.
~~
The next morning, Nico was yanked out of sleep by the unmistakable sound of Percy screeching.
He groaned softly, cracking one eye open. The early light of morning spilled through the window, warm and golden. His sister sat cross-legged at the foot of his bed, her face lit with quiet amusement.
“Hey there, sleepyhead,” Bianca said, her voice soft. “Feeling okay?”
“Yeah,” he croaked, his throat dry and scratchy. He pushed himself up into a sitting position, muscles protesting slightly. A faint ache lingered in his bones, but it was bearable.
He blinked blearily, taking in the scene before him.
Percy stood in the middle of the infirmary, laughing as two tiny children—both clearly under the age of five—clung to each of his arms. He spun them around in wide circles, their giggles piercing the air like wind chimes in a breeze. He was wrapped in fresh bandages, cleaned up and grinning like he hadn’t nearly drowned the day before. Nico laughed at the thought, hell would freeze over before Percy could drown, the boy was probably half fish.
“Again! Again!” the kids squealed, kicking their legs as Percy hoisted them up for another spin.
Nico scanned the room. On one of the larger beds, Annabeth, Hazel, and Piper were sprawled out, watching Percy with tired smiles. On another bed, Frank, Jason, and Leo lounged like oversized cats, cheering Percy on and occasionally throwing out ridiculous dares.
Nico let out a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding. Everyone looked okay. Bruised, maybe, but alive.
Hazel was the first to notice he was awake. She shot up from the bed and bounded across the room, flinging herself onto his mattress like a human cannonball. Nico grunted as she landed half on his legs, laughing.
“You’re awake!” she grinned.
Annabeth and Piper followed quickly, squeezing onto the already cramped bed without hesitation. It was a miracle the frame didn’t collapse under their combined weight, but somehow, it held. Nico rolled his eyes as limbs tangled and elbows dug into ribs, but he didn’t push anyone off. The familiar chaos was... comforting.
Then the door creaked open, and a head peeked into the room—curly blond hair catching the sunlight like a halo. The delicate features immediately twisted into a scowl at the sight of Percy now rolling on the floor, both kids in what looked like a dramatic double headlock.
“Danny, Jamie,” the blond said, voice sharp and unimpressed. “What are you doing disturbing my patients?”
The children shrieked with laughter, wriggled free from Percy’s grip, and bolted past the blond with shouts of, “Sorry!” echoing down the hallway.
The blond sighed, stepping fully into the room with a large tray balanced in his hands, carefully navigating between the beds. The scent of fresh fruit and honeyed yogurt filled the air.
Nico’s breath caught.
He is, Nico thought, by far the most gorgeous boys he ever laid eyes on. He was so awestruck by the blue of this eyes, glinting in the sunlight, he didn’t know what to do with himself. Perhaps kneel over and offer his heart on a platter.
Sunlight poured over him like liquid gold. His curls tumbled past his shoulders, wild and soft. Freckles dotted his tanned skin, dusting his cheeks and peeking out from beneath the wide armholes of his sleeveless white linen top. His matching brown linen pants were loose and comfortable, and his bare feet padded softly against the floor.
Two others walked in, one girl with bushy hair and a tall brunette boy, both carrying trays of food and drinks. Though Nico paid them no mind. Eyes trailing the blond.
“Breakfast is here,” the blond announced, his voice melodic and calm. “Figured we’d check in, but it looks like you’re all recovering nicely.”
He began placing bowls of fruit and yogurt on each bedside table with practiced ease. The other two followed suit distributing juice, nuts and pastries.
“Yeah, heaps better!,” Percy said, flexing his arms. Exhilarated by energy no one should possess in the morning, “thanks a bunch!”
The blond smiled at Percy, though it looked a little strained and intimidated. Nico couldn’t blame him, Percy was his own species.
“Well, we’ll leave you to finish breakfast. One of us will come back later to take you around,”
Nico hoped to whichever god listening that the blond comes back.
“So…” Piper began, eyeing her bowl suspiciously. “Do you think the food’s safe?”
She poked the yogurt with her spoon like it might explode.
“I sure hope so,” Hazel chirped, “because Leo’s already halfway through his bowl.”
Everyone groaned and turned to Leo, who was indeed dual-wielding a strawberry in one hand while shoveling yogurt into his mouth with the other like it was the last food on Earth.
He didn’t even pretend to look guilty.
“It’s literally the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth,” he mumbled around a mouthful. “Seriously. Top ten experience.”
“Hell yeah!” Percy cried, diving headfirst into his fruit bowl. “Don’t mind if I do!”
Within seconds, his cheeks were stuffed. “Gods, I’ve ascended,” he moaned, eyes rolling back as he chewed on an orange slice.
Nico sat quietly in his bed, slowly working through his yogurt. The flavour was tangy and smooth, with swirls of honey and slivers of fresh fruit folded in. It was good. Comforting, even. He wasn’t usually a breakfast person, but something about it—about this—made him want to savour it.
Bianca was still perched on the end of his mattress, absentmindedly braiding a strand of Hazel’s hair. Every now and then, she would hum something soft under her breath to Hazel and Nico found himself relaxing more and more as the minutes ticked by.
He couldn’t remember the last time things felt this... peaceful.
Eventually, Percy flopped down between Annabeth and Piper with a dramatic sigh, arms splayed like a starfish. “Alright. I’m officially full. That was divine.”
“You say that every time you eat,” Annabeth replied, not looking up from her fruit slices.
“Because I mean it every time,” he said, placing a hand over his heart.
Jason tossed Frank one of his pastries, who caught it effortlessly with a grin. “You think that blond guy made all this?”
“The food?” Frank shrugged. “Maybe.”
“If he did,” Percy muttered, eyes half-lidded. “I’d marry him for those pastries.”
“I thought you said you'd marry Leo for that grilled cheese he made last month,” Piper chimed in.
“My proposal to him has been revoked,” Percy replied, unbothered.
Across the room, Nico rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
He hadn’t said anything about the blond—at least, not out loud—but his thoughts had been circling back to him again and again. The soft cadence of his voice, the careful way he moved, the way he looked at all of them—like he was sizing them up and taking mental notes, but not in a cruel or cold way. Just... curious.
The memory of those blue eyes flashed through Nico’s mind again, and he quickly stuffed another spoonful of yogurt in his mouth before anyone noticed the faint pink rising in his cheeks.
He was not going to be the guy who got flustered over one pretty stranger.
Even if that stranger looked like he’d walked out of a Renaissance painting and smelled like summer wind.
Nope. Not happening.
As the breakfast dishes slowly emptied, conversation turned softer, more thoughtful. A quiet hush fell over the room—less sleepy, more reflective. The kind that followed shared survival and full stomachs.
Nico leaned back against his pillow, feeling the last remnants of sleep leave his body. He wasn’t sure what the day would bring. Answers, maybe. A tour. Another encounter with the blond boy, if the gods were merciful.
But for now, with his friends nearby and the taste of honey still on his tongue, Nico allowed himself to breathe.
He was alive. They all were.
And that was more than enough.
A knock at the door interrupted the easy rhythm of morning chatter. Heads turned toward the sound as the door creaked open and the curly-haired girl from earlier peeked inside.
“Ooh, good—you’re all up,” she grinned. “Hope you enjoyed breakfast. I’m Lou Ellen. Chiron asked me to give you guys the tour.”
She stepped into the room fully, and the soft jingle of the trinkets woven into her braids filled the air like wind chimes. They glinted as they caught the light, adding a quiet magic to her presence.
The group murmured greetings as they began to rise, gathering their jackets and shoes—or in Leo’s case, stuffing the last of a croissant into his mouth and chugging the remains of his juice.
Lou Ellen led them out of the infirmary and down a long hallway lined with open doors. Each room they passed was filled with neat rows of beds, all of them empty.
“These rooms are usually packed,” she said, catching the looks of curiosity. “But ever since your arrival, the campers have been a bit... distracted.”
She tossed them a playful grin over her shoulder. “They’re more interested in figuring out who you guys are than pulling their usual pranks. Don’t worry though—no one’s gonna ambush you with questions. Or poke you with sticks.”
There was an awkward silence.
“Poke us with sticks?” Jason asked, brows raised.
“Figure of speech,” Lou Ellen replied breezily, clearly enjoying herself. “Mostly.”
No one knew how to respond to that, so they resumed walking in silence, exchanging a few wary glances.
At the end of the hallway, she pushed open a set of tall wooden doors, and the group stepped out into the bright morning air.
Nico blinked against the sunlight.
It was stunning.
The camp stretched out before them in a wide, open expanse of green. Towering wooden buildings were arranged in a loose semicircle around a massive house-like structure made of timber and metal, like a modernised lodge pulled straight out of a fantasy novel. There were gardens and cobbled paths, canopies strung with cloth and lanterns, and beyond it all—trees. Endless, towering trees that reached high into the sky like watchful giants.
The grass under their feet was soft and plush, and the air smelled like wildflowers and something sweet—maybe nectar?
And everywhere, there were kids. Dozens of them, of all ages—some barely older than toddlers, others well into their teens. They ran across the fields, sparred with wooden swords in makeshift arenas, carried baskets of nuts, berries and sticks, or lounged under shady trees in small groups.
“This place is…” Hazel trailed off, looking around with wide eyes.
“Massive,” Frank finished, equally stunned.
“Magical,” Annabeth murmured.
Nico silently agreed.
He wasn’t used to this kind of openness. The sunlight, the vibrant laughter, the buzz of life all around him—it was overwhelming, but not in a bad way. For once, it didn’t feel like he was on the outside looking in.
Lou Ellen gestured for them to follow as she led them down a path that wound through the grass.
“That’s the dining pavilion,” she said, pointing to a shaded structure with long wooden tables. “We eat all our meals there—family style. The cooks are excellent”
They passed a group of younger campers practicing archery under the supervision of an older girl with a wooden bow.
“To your right, training fields,” Lou Ellen continued. “Self defence and hunting. You’ll probably get thrown in there at some point—don’t worry, everyone gets bruised their first week.”
“And that’s supposed to be comforting?” Piper asked dryly.
“Pain builds character,” Leo said, striking a mock-heroic pose. “I’m practically a demigod of character.”
“You’re a demigod of chaos,” Jason muttered.
Lou Ellen smirked.
They rounded a corner, passing what looked like an arts-and-crafts shed, a blacksmith forge, and a small amphitheater nestled into a hill. Nico couldn’t help but take it all in—the blend of the rustic and the mystical, the calm and the wild. This place didn’t just feel like a camp. It felt like a world of its own.
Just as he was beginning to feel a little more at ease, sounds of footsteps reached his ears.
He turned.
There—walking toward them from a side path—was the blond boy from earlier, his curls bouncing with each step and his arms full of freshly cut herbs. His linen pants were rolled up at the bottom and streaks of dirt covered his hands, feet and cheeks.
Nico's heart did something very stupid in his chest.
Lou Ellen noticed the boy too, “Ah. Perfect timing.”
She waved the blond over.
“Will Solace,” she said to the group, as he reached them, “He’s our most skilled healer here”
Will.
Nico committed the name to memory like it was a spell.
Will smiled politely at the group, eyes briefly scanning each face before landing on Nico.
“Glad to see you all up and moving,” Will said, his voice as warm as the sun above them. “Nothing’s broken too badly?”
Everyone shook their heads.
“Thank you,” Jason smiled, “for saving our butts and all.”
Will nodded, his curls bouncing with the movement. Nico’s heart did a funny little skip.
“Of course.”
He then turned to Lou Ellen. “The adults want to meet them, if you want to take them over?”
Lou Ellen nodded, “Alright gang, this way.”
She turned on her heel and led the group toward a large house, built mostly of metal and towering over the smaller structures nearby.
“This is the Big House,” Lou Ellen started, “During any emergencies, we all meet here, but it’s usually for the grownups and camp leaders to hold meetings.”
“Camp leaders?” Annabeth asked, tilting her head at Lou Ellen.
The other girl nodded. “Our camp leaders are appointed by Chiron. We have ten camp leaders, one for every cabin.” She gestured to the smaller cabins scattered around, and Nico noticed giant numbers etched into the doors.
“They help run the camp and pass along messages from the adults. Running a camp with fifty or so kids is much more difficult than you’d think.” Lou Ellen continued, pushing open the double doors of the Big House.
The inside was spacious and airy, filled with long tables, maps, clipboards, and whiteboards scribbled with neat plans and messy doodles alike. Windows high up let sunlight pour in, catching dust motes that danced lazily in the beams.
Several adults sat at one of the larger tables, deep in conversation, until Lou Ellen cleared her throat.
“They’re here.”
Heads turned.
The man at the head of the table rose to stand. His black curls were untamed, giving him a mad scientist look, and his beard was equally unkempt. His eyes, however, were kind, and his smile was warm as he nodded toward them.
“Hello, children, I hope you are feeling better,” his gaze swept over the group. “My name’s Chiron. This is Ethan…”
Lou Ellen leaned in to whisper, “He’s our non-official, official camp leader.”
Leo nodded slowly, trying to process the sentence before giving up and listening to the rest of the introductions.
“…Nate and Courtney are our chefs, Derek is our botany specialist, and Sam is our man for the more practical side of things,” Chiron said, gesturing to the group of adults gathered near him.
Nate gave a little wave—a stocky man with a permanent smudge of flour on his cheek and a towel slung over his shoulder. Beside him, Courtney offered a bright grin, her hair tied back with a colourful scarf and the scent of herbs clinging to her like perfume. Derek, tall and lean with dirt under his nails and sleeves rolled to his elbows, gave a nod, while Sam, a rugged guy with sun-browned skin and a wide tool belt strapped around his waist, leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed.
“Please, have a seat,” Chiron continued, motioning to the long table in the centre of the room. “We’re just waiting for our camp leaders to assemble.”
The group trailed behind Lou Ellen, slipping into sturdy wooden chairs lining the table. Percy flopped dramatically into one, letting out an exaggerated sigh like he’d just climbed a mountain. Annabeth rolled her eyes and sat next to him, elbows on the table, already observing the room as if she were mapping out its weak points.
Hazel and Frank took spots across from them, while Jason, Piper, and Leo clustered together near the end. Leo immediately fiddled with a salt shaker, treating it like a puzzle box. Bianca sat beside Nico, her presence a comforting weight on his side.
The table was wide, made from rich dark wood that gleamed under the sunlight pouring in from the tall windows. A bowl of fresh fruit sat in the middle—grapes, oranges, and figs—and pitchers of cold water beaded with condensation.
Across the table, Derek was whispering something to Chiron, who nodded slowly and turned toward the door as it opened once more.
A handful of teens filed in—older, confident, and all marked with the kind of calm authority that came from living here long enough to earn it. Nico could feel the shift in the room as they approached, their presence like a second wave of sunlight. Among them was Will Solace.
“These,” Chiron said, rising to greet them, “are our camp leaders. They’ll be the ones guiding you over the next few weeks, so you’d do well to remember their names.”
Each of them stepped forward as Chiron introduced them—ten in all, each with a different look, a different energy. Some smiled warmly, others nodded curtly, and a few simply offered unreadable expressions. There was a girl with bright orange curls and a paint-stained apron, a boy with wire-frame glasses and the kind of serious face that screamed “schedule keeper,” and a tall, stoic girl whose arms were crossed like they always had been and always would be.
“And you’ve met Lou Ellen already,” Chiron finished, as she took her seat at the end.
“Hey again,” she grinned, giving them a small wave.
Nico took them in, one by one. None of them looked much older than him and his friends. He wondered how they had ended up on this island.
“So, who are you?” One of the camp leaders asked. She had long black hair that flowed down her back like a river and piercing blue eyes to match—though her eyes weren’t nearly as pretty as Will’s. She leaned on the table, elbows propped up and hands under her chin, waiting.
Silena, Nico recalled.
Annabeth cleared her throat and sat up straighter. “My name’s Annabeth Chase, this is Percy Jackson, Leo Valdez…”
Nico tuned out Annabeth to glance towards Lou Ellen and another camp leader—Cecil, he recalled—where Will sat sandwiched between the two. All three of them were watching Annabeth intently, glancing around to match faces with names.
“…Bianca and Nico di Angelo,” Annabeth finished.
At his name being called, Nico quickly turned his gaze back at the table, but it was too late—he made eye contact with Will.
“He caught you staring…” Bianca muttered teasingly under her breath as Nico fought to hide the flush rising to his cheeks.
Annabeth’s introduction was met with a silence bordering on awkward before Silena spoke again.
“Like the Seven?”
Another pin-drop silence filled the room. The tension grew with it.
Annabeth glanced at her group, unsure.
“…Yes,” she said slowly, after no protests were given. “Exactly like the Seven.”
The fiery-haired camp leader to Silena’s right—Clarisse—snorted. “Well, what are the chances?”
Murmurs rippled steadily around the table. Nico glanced at Will, who was deep in conversation with Lou Ellen and Cecil, discussing something too quiet for him to pick up. Nico sighed. There goes normality.
Leo looked uncomfortable. “Didn’t realise you’d know who we are.”
Silena snorted. “We’ve only been here for three years. We’re not that out of touch.”
Jason blinked at that, “Three years? How-”
“Um,” a voice piped up, cutting Jason off. Across the table at the very end Charles had his hand half raised like he was in a classroom, he continued, “I’m afraid I’m that out of touch. Who are the Seven?”
Silena leaned into her forearms across the table. “Only the richest circle in America. The Chases, Jacksons, Valdezes, Zhangs, McLeans, Graces, and Levesques practically made America’s whole economy. The Chases are architects and own half of the penthouses in New York. The McLeans are an icon in luxury goods like makeup and jewellery. The di Angelos joined in later, after the Seven had been established for a while, but they’re old-money Italian billionaires, so of course they fit right in.” She paused, then added, “by then though, the name Seven had already stuck so..”
“So they’re like… super rich and important?” Charles asked.
Silena nodded solemnly. “Very rich and important.”
Chiron rubbed his temples and let out a sigh. “Well, that certainly changes things.”
At that, the table fell silent. Will, Lou Ellen, and Cecil finally looked up from their group huddle, their expressions unreadable.
“Like?” asked another camp leader, Drew.
Everyone looked at Chiron intently, curious.
“We have a chance to go home,” Chiron said quietly.