I feel like Nico and Calypso would make a good pair; so...here it is. Little romance, a lot of thinking. Reviews appreciated.
She knew he'd planted it; she knew he hadn't forgotten about her.
He had things to think about, sure, with the war she wasn't concerned about, and the enemies she wished she could forget.
But she could feel the life of that little plant; saturated with seawater, left in a pocket for time she didn't keep track of, but she would know if it died.
Just like she knew when it suddenly boosted in energy; when it suddenly thrived, nectar sprinkled over it, buried in some little patch of soil Percy had managed to find.
As cruel as fate was, she was grateful she knew what had happened to the plant. And at least Percy wasn't like Odysseus, who had another love to go back to hopelessly; Percy had a prophecy, a world to save, and their conversations had never gotten deep.
And then he'd come to Ogygia.
He'd appeared as suddenly as Percy had, only the shadows of her trees arched and bent around him, supplying him, giving him shape.
He wore black, with a silver skull's ring on his finger – one of Hades'. Who could he have possibly been?
Calypso knew already. It was the death-boy who had been near her little moonlace, threatening its new life. It was the young son of Hades who Percy had chosen the prophecy for.
She had been in her garden at the time, early, early morning. The moon was just a sliver in the dark, star filled sky. He'd developed from the shadows, and was there, stumbling. He didn't notice her.
Most of her heroes had come from the sea, bedraggled, beaten, waterlogged, and then there were occasional ones like Percy, who fell from the sky. But shadow traveling was new.
She knew about sons of Hades, but hadn't known there had been one lately, she hadn't known it was possible to reach her island this way.
She had stayed still, waiting, waiting for him to stir from his poise on the ground, but he did not, and she set down her trowel, wiped her hands, and gathered him in her arms.
He was cold, but whether it was from illness, exposure, or he was naturally that way she was unsure. He had short black hair, and dark black eyes.
He was beautiful.
He had to be eleven years old at most, probably younger than he looked.
She carried him with ease to the grass, where she laid him on his back and felt his heart. It beat steadily, if somewhat faintly.
She held his face and wiped his hair out his eyes, and when his breathing seemed to ease, she dripped nectar through his lips and kissed his cheek.
He jolted awake.
"Wha- who – what happened?" he sounded a lot younger than he looked, scared and unsure. "Where am I?"
She was still standing over him, and she drew back so as not to frighten him further.
"Ogygia," she breathed. The phrase 'brave one' lingers on her tongue, but she swallows it. "I am Calypso."
"I know you," he said, pushing himself up. "You're the nymph Atlas' daughter, who kidnaps heroes. Let me go!"
Tears formed in Calypso's eyes, and she sighed. "No, Nico-"
"How did you know my name?" he asked suspiciously, his eyebrows drawing together in worry. He was weak, and he knew it. A sword hung by his side in a black sheath, and he grabbed for it instinctively. How was it that the world could be so changed in so little time?
Gardens were gone, and little boys knew to fight for their lives?
"I have heard much about you," she said discreetly, promising not to ask, not to mention her curse. But he didn't seem like one to help, anyway.
"I'm sure you have," he snarled, and tried to regain his feet.
"You must rest," she insisted, but the only thing he did was shout, "Let me go! You're lucky I'm tired, because trying to summon help would kill me right now."
He had a crazed look in his eyes, like he was insane, but rightfully so, like he was doing all he could.
"I am not here to hurt you," Calypso held his forearm as he tried to get up again. She helped, and soothed him. "I am not your enemy. You know who I am, but I have already been punished."
And she was off again. She thought she had promised herself! She gestured to the quiet, tranquil island.
"I cannot leave, and I cannot help you. All I can do is help you recover and you can return to the war."
Nico sighed, then agreed. "Fine. I'll stay if I have to, but as soon as I can I'm going back."
He really didn't stay long. She helped him to the edge of the lake, helped him drink. He coughed, eyes watering, then told her, "I have to go back. I've already stayed too long."
This she couldn't argue with, seeing as time escaped her grasp. "You will head back to Manhattan?"
Nico's eyes narrowed. "I thought you hadn't left you island in thousands of years."
"I haven't," Calypso sighed. "But every now and again, the gods send me company, and I hear of the outside world." She couldn't mention Percy, because he knew him. Their relationship was tenuous and she couldn't cause Percy any more trouble.
"I see."
"How fares the battle?" It was a question she thought she'd never ask again.
Nico's shoulders drooped. "Not very well. There are plans, but none of them are likely. There's only one way to defeat him, but if Percy doesn't listen to me, we're all doomed."
Calypso had a sneaking suspicion of what Nico was speaking of, and whatever she could do from her island she would. She wanted to help Percy.
"Is it not too dangerous?"
Nico spoke with her like he'd forgotten his fear.
"Not for him. He – he's stronger than almost everyone. He's more powerful than I am." He looked down. "My father wants me to be in the prophecy instead. He wants to kill Percy, or imprison him until the war is done."
"Your father – Hades?"
"Yes."
They fell into silence, then Nico said, "May I see you again?"
She shook her head sadly. "No man ever finds Ogygia twice." What she should have said was that they forgot about her when they were outside, with aging people they understood more than the nymph.
Then he smiled for the first time. It was a child's smile, cheeky and wide. "Well, I'm not exactly a man, am I? I'll be back, Calypso. Just like a ghost."
And then he was gone, disappeared into shadows.
She never saw him again.
