Authors Note: Obviously the characters I've employed for this madness I call a story doesn't fully—okay completely, legally belong to me. I'm just borrowing them for a bit. I adore Nico. More than the lead characters, obviously. Why else am I writing such a self-indulgent fluff-well sort of, here. And I found Nico and Will absolutely adorable. As for this story-I kinda figured there had to be a reason why Will understood Nico so well. I wanted to show that sometimes there is strength even within the most pliable of personalities.
Faint-Hearted
The ultimate value of life depends upon awareness and
the power of contemplation rather than upon mere survival.
Aristotle
For some strange reason Will couldn't quite fathom practically why none of the villain they've been up against ever took him seriously. He wonders idly if it's because he dresses the way he does—in surgical scrubs shirts and board shorts. Maybe it's because he's blond and speaks with a laid-back, languid drawl? Whatever it is—it is seriously impeding his mission and it's rightly pissing him off.
He sighed and wished for the nth time that he never gave in to the constant machinations of his so called friends. He swears one day he will end up on the slab for something Lou Ellen and Cecil thought up on a whim. Those mooks are seriously out of whack when it comes to the things they considered 'interesting'. Heck, he went through two major battles with less scrapes than he got following through one of the two's 'adventures'. Just look at what he had to go through following them during one their "usual" patrols.
He gave a surreptitious glance at the rouge hunter that they managed to finally corner the man in an abandoned warehouse after nearly making them run around in circles for close to a week. A mentally unstable former medical man who learned enough about gods and demigods to develop a sickening fondness for hunting them down for sport and then experimenting on their remains. A madman that was currently glaring down at him while clutching desperately at the equally annoyed Son of Hades he's managed to cuff to one of the exposed structural supports of the warehouse and using as an impromptu meat shield.
Really, the things missions and people get themselves into. No wonder the world is going crazy. Give me a busy infirmary any day.
"Hang tight, Sunshine! We'll get you out there!"
"Hang tight?" Nico sneered incredulously at the still grinning son of Apollo. It was all he could do not to launch himself at the perpetually grinning medic who was still looking a bit too joyful considering the macabre things they have had to see that day. "I swear to the gods Solace, when we get this thing done I will have my skeletons bury you and your idiotic friends up to your neck in some backwoods where one will ever find your stubborn annoying ass. This is why I told you not to accept this idiotic assignment. Any moron with half a firing neuron would understand that this is a hunting assignment for those trained for confrontations like this. This is not a call for a damned medicine man! And stop calling me Sunshine gods damnit!"
"Hey! I am not just some medicine man—! Sunshine watch out!"
Nico ducked when the deranged man tried to grab his throat and well-placed kick had the man nearly doubling in pain but the man didn't let up on his hold on Nico nor did his grip slacken on his knife.
"You're going to regret that you stupid brat!"
"I'm not a brat! I'm just short! Ugh can you just knock this idiot, like now?"
"Shut up you damned brat!"
"Seriously, you thrice damned troll, would it kill you to brush your damned teeth?"
"You think you're so cheeky boy? When I get through with you, you'd pray for Death but you wouldn't get it. You're pretty enough and I would like some profit from that pretty face. People would line up for a piece of ass like you."
Will was fuming and the drawl in his voice was curiously missing. "Let him go or I swear—!"
"Swear what?" the man sneered, "You're a healer! But unlike me—you are weak! You have no vision! You couldn't see the endless possibilities that could be harvested once my technique has been perfected! Imagine—a world where we will never age or grow weak! Wounds and terminal illnesses cured by a simple serum! But you—you are a blight on your House! A healer who fears and a hunter who couldn't fight! Bah! Despite being sired by your house you couldn't even hit a target ten feet from you. You don't have a hunter's instinct inside of you, boy! You have no fierceness—nothing! You've got nothing!"
Will glared at the man. Something about the man's casual dismissal of his own horrific behavior rubbed the young medic wrong. To have the sheer impertinence to mock him because he liked saving lives rather than taking them was a dilemma he had had to reconcile within himself especially since his father was not just the patron god of healing but of archery as well. His godly aunt was the Goddess of the hunt, for goodness sake.
"First of all, don't you go on calling me 'boy' Mister—I don't like it. And second of all, you fool...you think because I don't like to fight that I am weaker than you? That because I cherish life I wouldn't know how to end it? You think because I take away pain I wouldn't know how to inflict it?"
The man smirked derisively at the agitated son of the Sun God. "Don't make me laugh! What can weak-willed medic like you do?"
Will felt his patience finally snap. He can tolerate a lot of things and insults usually wash off of him like raindrops of a taro leaf but it was one thing to be called weak because he didn't prefer fighting. It was another thing altogether to insult his choice to devote himself to healing.
Okay that's it. The kid gloves are coming off. He's hot, sweaty and tired as hell and there was that mangy cretin who's been pawing at the young man he was desperately trying to get to notice him. This was more than just ridiculous. It was more than freaking annoying—it's downright infuriating.
"You're better off asking me what I cannot do. You're right—I can't fight as well a child of the big three or even the child of Ares. I certainly can't shoot as well as my siblings. But you're a hundred times a fool to think there's nothing I can do to you to extract my vengeance should you push me beyond my limits."
"Pretty words medic-but your threats and bluffs lack teeth—you are a weak, pathetic excuse for a demigod!"
When the man dared to bring the glinting razor edged knife against the chained son of Hades' cheek Will saw red. Lou Ellen, Cecil and the rest of their party finally saw a side of Will they prayed to the gods never to see again.
They all knew the saying hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. They should've added: Hell hath no fury like a healer pissed.
Will started walking towards the rabid man and with a move of his wrist too fast for even Clarice to see—jabbed his thumb at the man's carotid artery. The man gave a mighty shudder before blubbering, the falling like a felled ox at Will's feet. Nico darted out of the man's grasp but stayed close enough to watch this unusual turn of events. The hunter's bloodshot eyes were wild and his throat seemingly paralyzed even as awareness and panic made his gaze wide and wary.
Crouching low, Will pinned the man lying before him like a predator assessing where to best attack a downed prey. His usually windswept blond hair fluttered in the wind but it didn't take away the feeling of dread and awareness that seemed to slowly creep up the assembled demigods' spine. His blue eyes—usually so bright, blue and clear now appeared like shard of chipped ice—like warmth had never even touched them. The usual smile that painted his lips was missing and all it left behind was a cold smirk.
"Who says I'm bluffing?" he purred and the sound sent a shiver through the assembled demigods even amidst the heat. "Trust me, I can do plenty. Hmm, just think of it—you like hunting kids don't you? Scaring them with your knife and them slicing them up while they're tied down? How does it feel to be the in same situation? Although to be fair—at least I haven't bound you, right? Your entire body is free from any constraints."
Will stood up abruptly and walked towards the chained Nico. Another deft twist of his hands and the chain fell off the clearly startled Ghost King and Will spared him a brief smile before turning back towards the frozen form still lying prone on the floor where he picked up the conversation like a man who simply paused in the middle of taking a sip of tea.
"Not that you can move any of it, but I digress. You we're talking about how weak and useless I am, weren't you. Now, personally, I don't agree with that. See, I don't think I'm weak at all. For example, did you know I can fillet you like a fish with any kind of blade I can get my hands on? Hell, I could do it even without a knife. Any old thing would do actually—it's not the knife, you see, it's the hands that wield them that matter. But you wouldn't understand that now, would you? After all, you did fail medical school and still you dare to call yourself a fucking professional."
Until that moment, the assembled teens could actually count the number of times Will used the expletive 'hell' with any semblance of a temper. The mild-mannered medic usually employed a simple 'heck' or 'by the gods' as his usual expression of choice. He has never—to their memory—ever cursed before. It didn't suit the cheerful, sunny nature of the young man and it set their moods accordingly, watching Will move like a coiled snake.
Will stared at the man as his hand absently ran down the man's pectoral muscles, exposed through the cuts in the man's shirt from his harried plight from their mission. He picked up a small twig from the ground, holding the twig as if it was a scalpel as he brandished it like a conductor. "I could cut you open without any anesthetic, you know...strip your skin off of you like wet tissue paper without damaging a single muscle and leave you to fester beneath the punishing sun or salt your wounds with sea water until you forget a time when pain isn't with you. I could take out each and every internal organ you ever possessed and stake it out in the sun to bake while I keep your heart beating until the time I draw out your last breath."
The twig traced a line down the man's sternum and they could see how pale he has turned, the subtle tremble his body gave out with every soft spoken word flowing from the gently smiling medic crooning down at him.
"I could break every single bone in your body and make you wish that you were never born human. I could even do it bit by bit, in ascending or descending alphabetical order until whoever has the unfortunate task of putting you back together would wonder if you were ever born human."
Will picked up the man's hand and gave it a squeeze. "I could cauterize every nerve ending in your body to make even the faintest brush of my fingertips feel like you're being stabbed, the tiniest pinch feel like I'm hammering through every sinew with a scorching nail and make water feel like I'm burning you alive. I could cover your entire body in hundreds of tiny, shallow lacerations that would burn right through your sanity even as blood flows out of you in thin rivers of red that wouldn't end for days."
The man was visibly shivering now and not a few of the demigods felt their throat dry up at the sight of the usually cheerful medic so oddly composed and so, so undeniable fearsome in his calm.
"I could slice your femoral artery and watch you bleed dry within minutes until you become a desiccated husk." Will whispered lovingly, hands ghosting over the man's pelvis, his eyes never leaving the torment ones that kept on staring at him. "I could administer drugs to your system that would make you think that your insides are liquefying, drowning you in your own body fluids even as every part of you remains unscathed and whole. I could prolong your pain for as long as I desire, I could bring you over and over again to the brink of Death until you know no other existence but that, until all that you would ever wish for is for Hades to claim you before I am through with you."
"Please…"
The man whimpered and Will shushed him in a parody of his usual bedside manner. "Don't interrupt me. You're being extremely rude. Now where was I? Oh yes…I can teach you things about pain you could only know in Tartarus' embrace but better than that I can bring that to you without even stepping one foot out of this place. That is what someone—a nothing like me can do to someone like you."
With a quick flash of his wrist, Will uses the twig to score a mark on the back of the man's hand—a small cut that oddly looks like a wing bent into two, making the man howl. A thin, trickle of blood steadily flowed from the wound though they wondered why since it wasn't as deep as an actual puncture or stab mark.
"Just so you will remember the folly of insulting those who chose compassion over violence—here's a little keepsake from me to you—Vermin—so that you will remember for the whatever time remains in your miserable existence the foolishness of mocking someone who regularly treads the path of life and death."
Will held up the man's hand to his face until the wild, bleary eyes of the man focused on the mark that's still oozing blood. Will's eyes became hooded and his voice took on a colder, sharper feel even as his speech continued its measured cadence.
"See this, little hunter? This little cut will never heal. It will not get any worse, bless your vile heart—but neither will it get better. It will continue to ooze out your vile, tainted blood but it will not kill you nor impair you. However, no poultice, no medicine, no treatment—no spell, not even ambrosia itself would heal you from this mark. Best of all—should you bring this wound to any disciple who worships at my father's altar—they will spit in your face and cast you away. No true healer would ever lend a hand to cure you and yours. Any heir of yours would continue to carry this mark until you and yours pay for all the blood you've ever spilt while you breathed."
"W-what? You c-can't do that! You're a demigod of Apollo! You can't hurt people!"
Will eyes blazed a blue so cold beneath the shadow of his lashes they could've turned the man beneath him into so much slag. His words when he spoke was a faint hiss.
"It certainly didn't stop you from preying on a seven-year old child whose only gift was the ability to bring to life images from her dreams. You hunted that child and then you butchered her like the rabid animal that you are. All the pleadings you heard over the years didn't stop you from torturing that poor nymph that was unfortunate enough to cross your path. And so what I am doing is only just—a mark for a man who hunts those born with the gods' mark."
"No! No please!"
Will plucked a single hair from his head and gently threaded it through one of the hunter's bedraggled locks, weaving it expertly until it vanished within the thin braid.
"This vessel filled with so much sin will pay the price. Your body will bear witness to every wound you have ever inflicted to my kind—every scar, every mark."
His voice took on a cadence that seemed to reverberate around the empty woods where they found their prey. The eerie silence leeched all other sound save for the strange gravity that flowed within Will's voice.
"Hear my words, fool, listen and know I speak the truth. In my Father's name I damn you with a cursed life on this earth."
"N-no! No, please!"
Will used the twig to slice the tip of his index finger and they could hear Nico's faint gasp. When they turned to look at the young Italian's face they could see even through his impassive face the concern for their friend but that was nothing compared to blazing light in the young man's emerald eyes. The son of Hades' eyes shone with overwhelming and undeniable pride.
"You desired to see the ones sired by the gods and so you shall. They shall cross your path but you will take no joy from it. You will never again come close to any demigod or the blessed to cause them harm because the moment you come within a mile of them this wound would ooze more than blood. Come closer than a mile and it would throb with a pain akin to being stabbed. Dare to approach to a distance measured in feet and this hand itself will strangulate you until you breathe your last."
The man moaned in denial, babbling words of pleas poured forth but Will was implacable as he continued to intone his judgment.
"Listen well and know that everywhere you spilt the blood of innocents, you will never find rest. You will spend the rest of your life paying for all the blood that you have so callously spilt. Yet it will not be your blood that will be used in payment but rather everyone you will ever love will have their blood spilled for you and you will be helpless to do anything but stand aside and watch it happen."
Blood dripped from Will's finger into the man's bleeding mark. "You who desired to steal the gifts of those blessed by the blood of the gods, hear me and know what true despair is—
"NO!"
"While you draw breath, drink and eat, lie with a warm body and revel in your filth and vice—hear this and know it for the truth that it is—from this moment on you are no different from the dead."
"NO!NO! That's not true!"
Will's hair lifted as if buffeted by an invisible wind. Nico approached and laid a hand on Will's shoulder even as the young medic continued to intone.
"While your heart beats and everything in you functions like before—know that this is mere illusion. On this dusty road where you threatened me and mine, where you found fault in my healing and mocked my mercy—know this and be haunted—Hades' realm will offer you no succor—no cessation from my gift to you—for you are never will be truly alive ever again nor will I ever bless you the respite of death. Instead, you will go through this existence with half a life—the wind will never brush against your skin and torrential rains will never cleanse you. The sun will never warm you—it will only bring you pain for even while alive you will wither from within—your blood will not flow freely, your breath will not come easily and your mind shall never rest. While my father's blessing reigns over the skies all you will know of sunlight is torment. Death—when it comes will leave you be—lost and unclaimed you will fade until no trace of you will ever remain. Welcome to your gift, mortal and well you enjoy it."
They made it back to camp by nightfall in silence. The group walked around Will, protective yet understandably wary but deep inside them—deep where other unspoken fears and wishes hid—they kept the knowledge and the memory of the broken hunter's anguished wails that perhaps this—this side of the young cheerfully optimistic healer, is the reason why Will never truly feared the uncanny son of Hades. Had they asked, Nico would've been the first to candidly tell them that between them Will was more formidable. Nico may call upon the dead and he may have the skill to reduce someone to ether by turning them from a living being to a mere ghost with a wave of his hand but Will—Will can bring all the sufferings and tortures of Hell while someone still alive and aware enough to feel it.
Will loved life. He was a healer-born. Of all the sons and daughters of Apollo that ever came to the camp, no one has ever come close to the sheer giftedness Will had when it comes to healing. It only stands to reason that his gift for healing would come with the price of being protective of life—every life—mortal, demigod and immortal. It also stands to reason that should his protectiveness be ever triggered—well, they finally saw how frightening Will can be. Never again will they forget that of all of them, of all their gifts and blessings, only Will and perhaps Nico understood the battle that never really ends. Life and Death. In Will it seemed like they were markedly intertwined. Will Solace cherishes life and so he does everything to preserve it. But he knows enough to remind them that what he can preserve he also can so easily steal away.