I've been thinking of this for the past week. Actually, I've been thinking about...around 10? different fics and only half-completing one before another idea hits me. So I've got a ton of junk, and a ton of half-finished stuff.
Joy.
But, anyway, I've been dying (haha) to write more angsty Gwico stuff blah blah nugh.
So, yeah, here you go!
Okay, that was probably the worst author's note in history.
Part One
The Claiming
"All souls that came back through the Doors at the time of war will return back to the Underworld," Zeus finished. His father just sighed and nodded consent, as if thinking, My brother making the decisions about the dead? This doesn't surprise me a bit. Next to Nico, Hazel gasped and fanned her face. He could feel his own paling even more, and he noted the murmurs in the crowd. The hand in his stiffened and began to draw back. He grabbed her hand in both of his. Gwen looked at the floor, her curly brown hair creating a curtain to hide the tears sparkling in the corner of her eyes.
"Gwen...," he whispered.
His pale, slender fingers lifted her chin up towards him. She avoided his gaze. It took a while, but she finally looked up. Her green eyes, once so bright, were dim and full of defeat and sad love.
He kissed her. Their lips met again and again, and Gwen paused to whisper, "If this is our last kiss, then I love you."
"I love you, too, Gwen."
He watched the black-winged angel walk towards them.
Thanatos was, in one word, beautiful.
It didn't surprise her very much. Death was beautiful, so Thanatos would be, too.
Logic.
His raven-black feathered wings were spread out, like Death wanted to be free.
"Miss Adams, with me, please."
His voice was smooth, calm, like water. He offered his hand, and when she took it, something on his face changed. Like he had led another girl like her to her death.
Now thinking about it, he was an angel. Not a demon, not a devil, but an angel.
That made her feel better.
Gwen could feel Nico watching them walk away.
Then she faded into a ghost.
Part Two
The Lost Dreams
Nico was the Ghost King, right? Oh-so-high-and-mighty person who could control ghosts?
He felt it was the opposite. Now the ghosts controlled him.
Some weren't real ghosts, just echoes. Echoes of times where he'd been happy, of when he could laugh and not have a care in the world. But some... Some were real. By some, he meant her. She was real, and she was a ghost.
He sat by the River Styx. A horn sounded, a lonely, deep sound, and a green, ghostly light flickered above him. Charon's ferry. He didn't look up.
"Hello, Nico."
He nodded acknowledgement.
"Charon."
And the two continued on their paths. Charon to the EZ-Death line, and himself to the far banks of the Styx. He settled back down on the cold, bleak earth and stared at the swirling water. It was poisoned with broken, lost dreams.
And then he noticed the picture, their picture, and he knew that they were a broken, lost dream, too.
She sat underneath a poplar tree.
Despite contrary belief, not all demigods achieved Elysium. Only those who had done and had been deemed worthy achieved it. The heroes. Like the Seven, Reyna, and so on, when they died, anyway.
Elysium had no time to spare with her. She was a good person, yes, but not so much as any other soldier in Rome.
The upside was the fact that Death had let them keep their memories. She still wore her Camp Jupiter outfit a purple shirt with SPQR and olive leaves and jeans. She also wore Nico's old sweatshirt the one that still smelled like him and made her want to cry.
As she got up, something crinkled in the pocket. When she pulled it out, she saw it was a photograph of Nico, his arm around her. She remembered the day clearly, a hot, sweaty, typical July day, when Nico had asked her to dance, and she had. They'd ended up on the ground laughing because Nico was horrible at ballroom dancing and she stepped on his toes half the time. Percy had taken the picture, handed it to them, saying, You'll remember this forever. She had forever, didn't she?
Gwen looked at the photo and sighed. Never again.
She walked to the Styx and dropped it in. It made a plop sound like her tears did.
Part Three
The River Styx
He stood at the edge of Asphodel. The black, gnarled trees stood barren in the bleak place. Nico watched Gwen walk towards him. She stopped feet away from him.
"Nico," she said.
"Gwen," he replied.
Nothing else was said. Nothing needed to be said. Hopeless eyes stared at each other, the ghost and the Ghost King.
She reached up one ghostly hand to touch his cheek.
It felt like cool water, like a soft mist.
Like his tears.
Then, she dropped her hand and let him go. He let her go as she turned and drifted away.
There was nothing left.
She turned and walked away.
It took every ounce of effort not to turn back.
They were nothing but a dream in the Styx now.
Okay, that, I admit, was pretty sloppy.
Seriously sloppy.
Yup. :)
Yeah, this is pretty bad. Re-edit: 7.12.13.
Achieving Elysium