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How bad is it, really, to be told you’re just like your father?
To an ordinary mortal, it likely meant sod all, or perhaps a great deal, if their father was a decent man or they shared a close bond. But for demigods, it depended entirely on the person, both the child and the godly parent. For most, however, it was practically an insult, unless they were fresh arrivals, very young, naive, or a child of Dionysus.
So, it was hardly a compliment.
Even worse if you were a child of one of the Big Three.
Perhaps Nico and Hazel would feel less offended; Hades isn’t so bad at the end of the day, and Persephone has certainly softened of late.
But even so, it’s a sore point for everyone when they realise they’ve inherited certain traits. Most of those traits aren't exactly badges of honour.
Jealousy.
Hatred.
An inability to handle their own power.
Resentment.
Selfishness.
Perhaps the very worst qualities of any living being.
Percy Jackson is just like his father.
Nico di Angelo is, too.
The good parts and the bad, quite dishonourably.
They try to hide it, but just like their fathers, their true natures always surface. Sooner or later, that’s just how life goes; it’s a rule of the universe. Every action carries a consequence, yet thanks to their divine blood, they believe their sins can’t touch them.
They’ve yet to learn.
Just like their fathers.
Jason only hopes none of this reaches Hera’s ears.
She’d be bloody livid, and there would undoubtedly be a proper punishment in store for Percy.
What a load of rubbish.
He watches Percy with curiosity; he’s trying to shift the blood from Nico’s bruise. Apparently, he can control fluids other than water, and in some fashion, he’s trying to make it less painful and visible for the dark-haired boy. Jason hadn’t even known he could do that; the ability sounds strange, bordering on impossible, but he doesn't ask too many questions.
He can smell the tension in the air; it’s stifling.
No one has said much inside.
But surely, outside Cabin 13, everything is a right mess.
A feast of gossip.
More than a few campers saw perfectly well how Annabeth, absolutely fuming, landed a flawless hook on the son of Hades’ jaw. He hadn't even dared to defend himself or try to shield the blow, a rarity for anyone who’d ever seen him fight. His lanky friend simply hit the deck, more stunned than angry.
Percy arrived two seconds later.
Sprinting to Nico’s aid, ignoring Annabeth, helping the younger boy up and trying to talk, to make excuses, really, to the girl. She looked as if she wanted to deck him as well; in fact, she tried, but failed when the younger dark-haired boy quickly pulled Percy away. It felt like a ticking time bomb; Jason firmly believes that if he hadn't turned up, everyone might have found out the real reason for "that row."
Because, yes, perhaps neither Nico nor Percy told him directly.
But he’s observant enough and aware enough of his friends’ temperaments to have clocked it.
And he didn’t agree with it, of course, but he didn’t feel he was in a position to intervene.
Not yet.
Selfishness in its purest form, he supposed.
The worst quality of mankind.
The conversation, if you could call it that, as it was a verbatim string of insults and excuses, didn't last long. A few sentences peppered with some rather foul adjectives, which were, to an extent, true and fair, were hurled at his friends by Annabeth. Whether they deserved it or not wasn't for him to judge. He was only there to ensure Nico didn't end up more battered, or unfairly blamed for everything.
It’s not that he doesn't think Nico is at fault, it’s just that Nico isn't the one who owes any loyalty to the daughter of Athena.
And without a doubt, that was the end of Annabeth and Percy’s relationship.
ଳ
The rows between Nico and Percy might well be eternal.
It’s funny, passionate, reckless, rude, perhaps "vulgar," in Hera's words. They aren't making the best decisions; they lie, they hide, they put on an act. Perhaps Annabeth saw through their little game, but Will can only wonder.
It’s unfair.
Glory.
Honour.
Pride.
It’s remarkable how their dynamic remains unchanged; how they can carry on, smile, feign a few kind words, and simply exist. Annabeth stayed for only two days after their "break-up" before heading straight back to university. No one dared ask much about what had happened; they saw that menacing, weary aura of hers, the kind that suggested she might put a dagger through them if they tried.
Perhaps Piper knew.
But Percy knows that pride has kept the girl from saying what truly happened, and she never will.
He whispers this to Nico while braiding a lock of hair at the back of the boy’s head. They aren't words meant to soothe him. Anyone more observant would notice that while Nico might feel gratitude towards Will, it isn't love, nor affection; there’s a certain concern, but nothing that would weigh on his conscience.
The children of the Big Three agreed to say that what caused Annabeth to snap was a "decision" made by Nico and Percy during the war against Gaea. A decision she wouldn't have agreed with and hadn't found out about until now. It’s a story elaborate enough to be believable, yet vague enough to avoid being an outright lie.
After all, that was when the string of pearls appeared around Nico’s neck.