I am back with the second chapter to LTS. Warnings include: Vague description of torture, memory flashbacks (brief, but disturbing), and implied rape. So this long awaited chaper can be blamed on my tablet not cooperating with me. Over 8000 words of pure torture written during my strange bouts of insomnia. Heed the warnings, grab some tissue, and enjoy.
Also, my other story (And the Light Embraced the Shadows) should be updated next week.
Chapter 2: Your Wish is My Command
It's a difficult place when it gets like this
It's hard to raise a child when it gets like this
Oh, giving this my all was my only wish
But, it's hard to do you right when it gets like this
-Majid Jordan, "A Place like This"
Sometimes we get lost in our wishes. The things we once wanted we cannot have anymore and the things we once had are no longer usable. We both forget what happened first, the breaking or the beating. But either way, I'm stuck here next to you, for another day. So let's make the most of this time, before we both fall into that empty void.
Then I remembered. We are already here.
The moon had yet to fall over the greenish hills, craters deeply imbedded in the ground where armies once battled. Strawberries hung on the vines, ripe for picking, rich and red like the warm blood that flowed through the numerous veins. And dew lightly settled on the sky-high trees, somehow brushing along the stars, asking, praying, and perhaps wishing. Hazel wishes she had her sketchpad to draw it all. Then maybe this would be worth remembering. Leo's home, her friends' home, her brother's home all the same destination on the map and Hazel was not eager to learn about it, draw it, envision and emulate it in works of sleek, charcoal canvas lines. She had lost her inspiration, not her ambition, just passion.
She mulled it over, the moon still hanging over the firmament. She wondered if the moon knew what it was like to fall, if it even noticed how it would disappear behind the bright sheen of the sun. Only it hung in the midst of a gray, morning sky. Hazel could understand the moon. She too, did not know what it was like; she only knew how to drown in the earth. But Leo, Leo knew how to plummet and burn, like a supernova. Fitting, since she could not plunge deep into the soil, only watch it turn into scorched dirt and rock.
"You should be sleeping. It's only four, go back to sleep." The voice was heavy and lulling. She wrinkled her nose, eyes still closed off from the world and lips too stiff to render new motions.
"Like you can talk." She slurred, nuzzling into her pillow. "You should sleep. I won't sleep until you will." She heard a huff and a sigh before cool arms wrapped her body from above the comforter. Hazel's head was tucked against his chest, her hair hitting her brother's face. But he did not say a word, pulling her tighter.
"Sing to me," she requested most her voice lost in the pillow. He sighed and sucked in a deep breath.
"Why don't I ever deny you things?" he huffed.
"Because you love me too much." His breath hitched and neither made a sound. For ten minutes, they lay in deep darkness, feeling their way around the tangled frays that made them human.
"Brilla brilla una stellina
Su nu cielo piccolina
Brilla brilla sopra noi
Mi domando di chi sei
Brilla brilla la stellina
Ora tu sel piú vicina" he sang in soft whispers, his voice barely amplifying above the noise of the crickets and wind, but it was peaceful like an old cradlesong. He repeated the lines again and again, tracing, stroking her head until Hazel found herself slipping back into sleep, dead to the world.
Hazel awoke to the squinting sunshine on the next day; the moon had finally descended below the horizon. Her simple white night gown chaffed against the light green blankets as she turned around. Nico was perched up against the headrest, blinking as hair moved in front of his tired and red-rimmed eyes. Her head rested on his shoulder and she saw the fatigue, how soon he was going to collapse at this rate. She knew he had spent the entire night up watching her. Guiltily, she placed a hand on his cheek.
"Go to sleep." Slowly he turned his eyes on her face.
"I can't." he drew a shaky breath. "I will make it through the day. Just need a minute." Nico untangled himself from her and stood from the bed, swaying on his feet. Hazel rushed out, arms catching him before he hit the floor.
"You need rest. Passing out from shadow travel does not fully allow you to recuperate, Nico. It puts you in a coma and that is not recovery. A good night's rest will do you some favors." She dragged him back to the bed and pushed him on top of the covers.
A skeletal hand reached out, fingertips pleading for contact. "You can't let me have even forty winks. You understand me, Hazel. I can't rest too long." Gingerly-intertwined fingers and a brush of lips to his cool forehead shut him up.
"The war is over. Trust me, you can sleep." She gave him a placating smile, wide around the edges and shining too bright to be real. If he saw her anxiety, he did not show it. Just settled his head back onto a pillow and whispered a prayer in a foreign tongue. His bruised eyelids covered the red-rimmed orbs she became so accustomed to seeing.
"Not for me, mia sorella, never for me." He closed his mouth, lips thinning into a tight line before relaxing. He looked peaceful now, the furrows and creases in his face smoothed out to make him look youthful again. Her lips trembled as she kissed his forehead tenderly, wishing him sweet dreams. She always had to fight him in order to get him to sleep; yet, he always fought her so hard not to take care of himself. The mind was meant to be the last paradise before death, but now he was afraid to seek solace in his own headspace. Today, he acquiesced so easy, as if his body had given up on the fight. It scared her. Whatever was happening to him, to her, to them?
It was only seven in the morning, the sun steadily peaking from the corner of the earth, so far away as Apollo finally rode his chariot around the world. She would wake her brother in another hour or so. He threw fits when it was longer. Besides, she had a goal for the day, an errand that would occupy enough time of her time to let him sleep. She wanted to get the remaining seven, Reyna, and Nico together for a group breakfast before they all separated to face the challenges of the new age. Somehow, she could already map out their actions—Frank and Reyna would be working with Camp Half-Blood counselors to establish peace between the camps. Their Greek friends would be reuniting with their own cabins and Nico would return to the underworld. Then she would have no way to keep the gang together.
Emotionally drained, she shuffled into the bathroom. It was private, a wonderful slice of a commodity she had lost over the past weeks. Constantly being walked in on had not been good for her 1930s sensibilities. Unlike the rest of the cabin, the bathroom was not black, but simple marble flooring and slate colored walls. Nico had shadow traveled the previous night to buy basic necessities, including toothpaste, toothbrushes, linens, and other toiletries, because his cabin had been lacking common household items. Feminine products lined the steel shelving racks and Egyptian cotton towels were stacked on the mosaic sink counters. A large tub was located in the corner, a showerhead hanging over the top.
She climbed into the porcelain bathtub and turned the handle on hot. Chilling liquid seeped to the soles of her feet already changing to a steaming stream of fresh water. The temperature burned against her skin, her shoulders shivering from the extreme adjustment of the heat. It felt good. Good to let herself shake in the water that was rising slowly, up and up her skin until hitting her collarbone. She turned the knob again, shutting off the water the supply and leaned back to lather soap onto her rag.
Wet cloth smacked against wet skin, a stinging sensation as she scrubbed away dirt, dust, and blood from her body. She must admit, her body did not hurt like it had yesterday. The exhaustion of battle was not present, nor was the fatigue of overusing her abilities. Nevertheless, the ache remained the deep and dull ache that erupted in her chest cavity and caused her heart to rush, beat out of sync. She had to hold herself at times, to keep her heart in her chest, in her body, stuck in herself like everything else. She licked her dry lips. Leo was gone.
None of them were meant to die—immortal, she thought bitterly. With a crowd including the likes of Percy, Annabeth, and Jason, and other powerful demigods, how could have thought they would lose. Leo was one of her best friends; he isn't wasn't supposed to die. Gods, now she had to think in past tense. Hazel knew anyone could feel the overwhelming amount of power that emanated from them; how anyone would believe they were immortal and untouchable, against all the odds, like the gods. How they had so much light and potential, and one candle was extinguished from a magnificent flame. If they burn too bright, they snuff out their own lights. How splendid.
She was not going to give the gods the satisfaction of seeing her cry. She had been a blubbering mess the day before, and now she was eager to portray the strong woman she is. She had to be strong. She was a legionnaire, a woman, and whether she liked it or not, she would cherish and hold her position with the dignity and strength of a queen. Hazel finished washing and drained the tub, ignoring how the dust and blood mingled and made a solid line around the edge of the tub. Wrapping a towel around her body, the girl relished the smell of roses from on the products she allowed herself to indulge in. She had no clothes, so she took her worn jeans and washed as much grime and dirt out of the rough fabric as she could before slipping into them. She took one of her brother's thin shirts and slipped it over her head, the shirt itself snug, but not excessively tight. After washing out the tub and putting the dirty clothes in a bin, Hazel was ready to leave the cabin.
To be honest, Hazel did not have much of a tour from the previous night, too busy soaking shirts damp with salty tears. Therefore, she lacked any knowledge about where the other cabins would be located. The camp was mostly silent, barely stirring from its slumber, even as pink tendrils stretched out from behind puffy white clouds. However, there seemed to be about ten campers moseying around, carrying cases towards a large white house further off. Their hustle and bustle was accompanied by rich songs, some of which she recognized from the Snow White soundtrack. She had seen it once in 1937 as a special treat with her mother, before Queen Marie went crazy. The movie was lodged in her head now, one of those treasured child memories that you held onto with your dying breath because you knew you would never experience them again. She would love to re-watch it with her boyfriend and the others. They might complain about that new thing, 'graphics', but only Nico and herself would appreciate the authenticity. And that alone was all right with her.
She ambled around curiously, watching them go until she stumbled into something solid and tall. That something was over six feet tall, stunning blue eyes, curved lips, and an artisan nose. He was donning a pair of shorts, some running shoes, and a white tank top showing his impressive muscles, one of which was wrapped around her waist to prevent her fall. Hazel felt herself blushing for examining him so closely.
"I'm sorry." He said first, setting her on her feet. "I'm usually coordinated in the morning, but I had the night shift." His smile was crooked, flashing the brilliance of pearly white teeth.
"No, it was my fault. I wasn't paying attention to anything, just caught up in my thoughts." She smiled back.
"I've never seen you around. Are you one of the new campers? Or one of the Romans?" he asked.
"I'm affiliated with the Romans, yes. I'm actually trying to find some of my friends, Jason Grace and Percy Jackson." His eyes widened perceptively before the crooked grin reappeared on his face.
"Oh, one of the Seven. I'd be happy to take you there, if you want. I sorta was kicked out the infirmary for pulling an all-nighter. Heh, I could use the walk." The tall teenager started walking and that is how Hazel found herself bounding after the son of Apollo.
...
Quite literally, Will was dead on his feet. He couldn't remember the last time he put his head on a pillow, too busy saving lives from a useless war. Too many casualties, too many dying demigods, and his hands were still shaking from the day before. He wanted a break, but he could not cave just yet. He had a job, as head of the infirmary and the Apollo Cabin, to remain calm in situations like this. He wanted Lee or Michael around. He missed them too damn much.
The girl next to him took four steps for his everyone, both adorable and sad. She was tiny, looked barely older than fourteen, age emphasized by a black tee shirt with a dancing skeleton on the front. Those were the good days, when he still had most of his family around. Her massive curls bounced with every step, her golden eyes taking in the sights of the camp. She seemed amazed, her eyes absorbing the architectural details with such scrutiny that one would believe her to be a child of Athena, if it was not for her peculiar eye color.
"So, I never did get your name." he began. She looked up at him, sharp gaze poking holes into his false-cheery demeanor
"That's because I never said. I'm Hazel Levesque." He turned around and took her hand, kissing the back of it.
"Nice to meet you, Ms. Levesque, my name is William S. Solace and I will be pleased to be your tour guide today." His southern drawl slipped off his tongue and the poor girl giggled.
"Is it normal for you to charm girls like this?" She asked politely. Her eyes were warm with humor. Ah, so she was willing to entertain him for a moment.
"Only beautiful girls in the morning." She blushed. "No, I'm kidding. 'm one of the more friendly campers, if you get my drift. And a son of Apollo." He winked.
"I'll have you know I have a boyfriend," Hazel replied unashamed and held her head higher, giving him a scolding look.
"I'm not making a move on you. It's just an ice breaker." Will did not want a Roman soldier running after him with a giant spear. He was an adept fighter, not perfect, and not in the condition necessary for reaching rapid speeds. If anything he needed caffeine, like yesterday. A large double expresso with lots of whipped cream and chocolate syrup. Yum, he was making himself hungry.
"That's good. My brother would go after you as well. I would like to think the infirmary would need you after this detour, but a word of advice: Get some sleep. I tell my brother that every time I see him, and I would love it if someone listened to my advice."
"Roger that, Ms. Hazel. You know I'm an advocate for getting more than eight hours of sleep every night, but when your father is the god of the sun, it's kind of hard getting some z's." he sighed. "If only my cabin listened to me more often."
"You're kidding." He scoffed.
"No, I'm completely serious. You should hear what these people call me. 'Mr. Mom', 'pain in the bum', 'nagger' and plenty more titles. And don't get me started on my patients, they have even more names. Apparently, I have an innate ability to hassle any person into a cot for medical care, but that is a lie. They just don't want to admit they want treatment." Hazel laughed, eyes crinkling wit mirth. She listened to him complain about his reputation in the camp and Will felt a little lighter. He was a people person, interacting with them made him happy in ways other hobbies could not. He also interrupted his personal story to point out the rock climbing area, the arena and the archer fields.
"I'm not the best archer, but I'm pretty good. Better than the Ares cabin anyway. I am much better with my hands and other things. Mostly healing rather than all the fighting." He made a vague gesture with his hands, waving to the areas around him where all the dummies stood tall. Hazel nodded.
"Pacifism is not a bad trait. In fact, I prefer it to all these power wars. Before I learned I was a demigod, I was not expecting to wave a spatha around on a daily basis to hold back a pack of monsters. All I wanted to do was shade with my pencils." She shrugged her shoulders, kicking at a patch of dandelions sticking out from the grassy lawn. "As for the archer field, Frank would love to practice there. Nico, too, if I can convince Frank to give him lessons. "
Will froze in his steps. Nico. Nico. Nico. Nico. His heart thundered as his lips finally seemed to move. "Nico?" Hazel looked back at him. "Nico di Angelo?" she nodded.
"Yeah. I'm trying to get my boyfriend and my brother to bond over something more than a few Mythomagic cards." His hands, once shaking, practically vibrated. "It's going to be hard when he's here and I'm in California. Knowing him, he'll probably disappear to the Underworld as soon as he can." She looked unhappy, miserable like how Will felt inside. His happy attitude withered away to the invisible hurricane coursing through his body. He did not know what to say, but stuffed his hands into his pockets and shuffled next to her in silence.
Nico di Angelo was the bane of his existence. A skinny kid with no sense of self-preservation, a mean streak, and a death wish. And he had someone looking after him. A girl who was shorter than him, wearing a shirt that was wearing a familiar shirt. Nico's shirt to be exact. His color paled at the implication and he tried not to gag on his own distress.
"Are you okay?" she asked after a while. He nodded stiffly.
"Yeah, just got lost in my head." He had to get away from her now, if he was going to keep his sanity. They were close to the Zeus Cabin and he would be relieved of her presence. The air was heavy, closing in on him. But he couldn't be rude, she didn't know. "Say, I recognize the tee-shirt." Why did he open his big, stupid mouth?
"Oh," she stared at her shirt with a soft smile. "Yeah, mine were destroyed so I took one of Nico's. And the Hades cabin isn't close to the other cabins at all, so I couldn't go ask Piper. I mean I could have, but I sorta crashed when I finally went there. He won't mind, I doubt. "
He was seeing bright red, murderous red. His breaths were emptying out his lungs too quick, inhaling was failing him. She…she spent the night in his cabin. His strides were a little longer until he reached the door of the Poseidon cabin. He put on a fake cheery smile, flashing her with bright teeth.
"Well this is the Poseidon Cabin," he started. "Oh, and send the rest of the Seven to the infirmary, none of them got examined for injuries yesterday." She gave him a dimpled grin.
"I will. Get rest Will."
He marched away, heart crumbling with every step. Will could not hate her. She was too nice, too small, too innocent looking, and she was his. As soon as he reached the Apollo Cabin door, he burst in. Kayla was sitting up on her bed and stared at him, a frown gracing her features.
"What happened?"
"I hate this curse." And he threw his head into the pillow.
…
There was a soft knock at the door and Annabeth groaned, burying her head deeper into Percy's pillow. Unfortunately, she had stuck her face on a puddle of drool, which she wiped off irritated and moved her head onto his chest instead. The knocking was a little louder and she wanted to scream Go Away. Percy, who usually slept like the dead, huffed and his feet hit the ground, pounding towards the door.
"Percy," she heard Hazel say and her boyfriend released a shuddered breath.
"Hey, Hazel," Annabeth turned from her position on the bed. Percy's back was to her, but she could see them hugging.
"Let the girl in or else everyone is going to see this pigsty." Hazel started when she heard the sleep-filled voice of Annabeth coming from underneath the blue sheets. She watched the poor girl turn back and forth between the two of them and their mused states of appearance. Hazel fanned her face rapidly and blushed, eventually hiding her face behind her hands.
"Oh, I'm interrupting something." She mumbled and Percy laughed. His head was thrown back, but after his episode last night, his raucous laughter was enough to make Annabeth giggle too.
"We were just sleeping." Percy shook his head. "Between you and Frank, people are really going to believe we're having incredibly voyeuristic sex." He wiggled his eyebrows at Annabeth and she lobbed a pillow at his head. The plush item hit his arm with a dull thud and landed on the floor.
"I am so sorry." Hazel squeaked, blushing even harder.
"Stop teasing her, Seaweed Brain, you're going to turn her into a tomato. Morning Hazel, it's actually quite early. Breakfast doesn't start for a bit." Annabeth yawned. Hazel smiled sheepishly, grabbing the Finding Nemo pillow off the ground and putting it back in Percy's arms.
"Well, I wanted to know if we could have breakfast together. I just wanted to spend some time together before the other campers descend on us."
"Yeah, sounds cool." Percy said.
"Alright. I have to go tell the others and get Reyna and Frank from the Roman tents. Then, I can wake up Nico."
"I forgot that kid sleeps like the dead."
Hazel shook her head. "He finally went to sleep almost forty minutes ago. He spent most of the night helping me sleep and his insomnia is acting up again. I'm going to get the others and let you two get ready." She gave another shy smile as Percy frowned. Annabeth rose from her position on the bed and came to stand next to her boyfriend. She got a better look at him, the bags underneath his eyes and his shoulders were drooping almost imperceptibly. He looked horrible, like he was carrying the weight of the world on those muscled shoulders, and Annabeth pushed down the urge to drag him to the corner of the world and get away from all this.
Hazel gave them both brief hugs and rushed out the door. The minute she did, Percy crumpled against her, head pushing into her chest. Annabeth stroked his hair and kissed his forehead.
"Need a minute?" she asked. Percy shook his head.
"Naw. I'm just—I'm sorry about last night. I didn't have a handle on myself and I'm sorry." She placed a single finger over his parched lips.
"Don't apologize for anything. You did nothing wrong. In fact, I'm glad you got it off your chest." She replaced her finger with her lips. "I need to head back to my cabin to get ready, but you need to take a shower, put on a fresh pair of clothes, and brush your teeth before I come back." She gave him a steely look, and he nodded, his breath leaving him. Annabeth brushed her lips against his again and headed out the door.
The camp was barely awake, not that it mattered to her. No, it mattered that whenever she was pressed against Percy, her nightmares went away. She could breathe; sleep, in peace unlike anything else in her life. She could feel Tartarus spreading through her body, like a vile poison trying to reach her heart. Her heart remained untainted, but her mind did not.
It had been a long night, disastrous in any terms of speaking. Her shirt was still damp from where Percy's tears had fallen into her shirt. He had even cried in his sleep, crying out for his mother and her. With every shuddered breath, her heart broke into pieces for him and yet, she couldn't give him her all. Not all the comfort he needed, required. Not when she was like this—a fragmented version of herself. She could not assuage his fears if hers were knocking on the very same door, demanding entrance to destroy her very soul. She was a hair's breadth away from losing her grip on reality. She was out of Tartarus, she was free, but there remained a shadow just lurking; it was waiting to drag her back, kicking and screaming into the unmistakable darkness that lingered in the corners of her mind.
She opened the door to the Athena cabin and let the door close behind her. Malcolm sat in a chair, just staring at her entering the front door. His gray eyes locked on hers and his lips turned down into a nasty scowl.
"You're back." He whispered and let his hands run through her matted hair. He pulled her into a tight hug and she hugged him back. "I waited up for you to come in last night, but you didn't show."
"I had some affairs to take care of first." She responded nonchalantly and let go of him. She sidestepped him to head to the area where her siblings were still sleeping. "How was the camp while I was gone?"
"Just peachy." He spat. Annabeth turned around, fixing him with a glare.
"Is there a problem, Malcolm? I would surely hope not, for your sake." She raised a pointed eyebrow. Annabeth had seen Malcolm irritated, petulant, but not enraged. Not by her presence to say the least.
"Are the others more important?" he asked, stepping in front of her. He was only an inch taller, but Annabeth looked down on him with an impassive glance.
"I just finished a quest in Greece. If you want to have an argument, you'll have to wait."
"So your siblings aren't as important as the Seven." He scoffed. "That's pathetic."
Annabeth crossed her arms. "What are you talking about?"
"When Percy went missing, you started disappearing too. And, I don't mean just mentally, but physically and emotionally as well. You devoted all your time to finding him and I watched you for months…you were fanatical. You refused to eat, sleep, to distract yourself with any activity that wasn't him. You snuck off to his cabin at night to cry and you would come back in the morning to work on finishing the Argo II so you could get him back." He shook his head.
Annabeth said nothing, betrayed nothing with her face. She just stared at him; she wouldn't let Malcolm use Percy against her. What he was trying to attain from this conversation, she had no clue. The daughter of Athena merely shrugged and continued grabbing clothes.
"Annabeth, you stand here tall, thinking you're okay because you have him again. But you fail to realize that he isn't the one you need to look out for. The younger ones barely remember the last time you played with them, the others are worried you can't handle being a girlfriend and a cabin counselor. Not to mention, you are always off disappearing or almost dying following that boyfriend around the damn world for quests. You came back yesterday and none of us even got the chance to say hello or reconnect at all." He accused.
"I can't waste my time with this. I'll be around after breakfast." She kept her voice controlled, but Malcolm had hit his mark. She felt slapped in the face. Had she truly treated her family that way?
"No, we need to have this conversation now. I need to ask you a question: Are you part of the Seven?" he asked evenly and Annabeth snapped.
"Of course I am part of the Seven." She hissed back.
" No, the prophecy says seven half-bloods shall answer the call, to storm or fire the world must fall, an oath to keep with a final breath, and foes bear arms to the Doors of Death. So where do you fit in with that equation?" Annabeth bristled, clothes in hand and slapped him across the face. The sound echoed through the cabin and several of her siblings startled awake to Malcolm's face twist to the side, an angry red handprint on his right cheek.
"How dare you." Her voice was low, but full of malice. "How dare you say that to me, Malcolm? You don't know what I went through when I was out there. You don't know what I had to sacrifice and what I did for our mother. Therefore, you have no right to say anything against me."
"I have every right." He seethed. "You made yourself one of the Seven the minute you learned Percy's place in the prophecy. Any time he has a quest, you make yourself part of the equation, ever since you were twelve years old! I know for a fact that not demigod can merely close the Doors of Death or else you wouldn't be here now. You don't cause storms. Gods, every time Percy does something, you have to do it with him. If he jumped off a cliff, would you follow?"
"You know the answer to that." She didn't take a breath. She knows where her heart lies, where her head is, and he was not going to question her loyalty to Percy or her cabin. "He had done it for me and I would do it for him in a heartbeat."
"Then you don't have any sense, maybe just a death wish." Malcolm muttered. "Okay Annabeth, enjoy your time with the Seven, but remember, you did not have to suffer. You chose to."
"If I didn't, who would?" she challenge, not expecting him to answer.
"There are plenty of people who would. You don't have to risk your life to do it. Forever with that boy isn't going to make it better or lessen the pain. You'll just end up hurting again. I saw you when he died the first time and when he disappeared. He's going to be the death of you." He said solemnly, eyes downcast and full of anguish. "Annabeth, I love my sister too much to lose you to something like that."
Annabeth didn't bother replying, just moving towards the door. The others campers shrank from her, waves of anger seeming radiating off her skin in droves. The blonde touched the knob and opened the door, but looked back at her brother with a bitter expression marring her face.
"If I die, it will be on my own terms Malcolm. And if it is for him or with him, I am sure it will be worth it." She shut the door behind her, tears escaping the corner of her eyes. She wiped away the evidence and headed back to Percy's cabin.
…
'Come on…trust me.' Amongst the darkness, there was an outstretched hand. Tan skin that looked soft to touch.
'What do we do with you boy? Or rather, what can I do to you?' Blurry words and burning flesh.
'So much sorrow and pain. You are so perfect.' A curse of unimaginable agony and yet, a simple chuckle could be heard—memories of braided hair, green grass, and warm baking bread.
'Come with me…You know you want to.' A gentle touch and then a tight grip, the wince of pain and whimpers of a trebled range.
'Look at what you are! Do you truly believe you deserve a reprieve?' A quiet answer. Running and echoing sounds of boots hitting solid rock and the hisses of aching bones.
'We don't get pretty things often do we? If you want to leave, you have to do something. Alas, what are you willing to give me in exchange?' A gleeful smile, a responding glance and a vacant stare. Eerie chills and black eyes.
'Don't you love me? I though you love me! Why would you let me die?' Claws ripping into flesh and bone with a hunger and a stabbing pain, but welcomed like the whistling wind. Singing before a shrill scream pierced the air.
'Why can't you love me? I am willing to die for you, but you won't love me. I guess I will have to make you, my sweet.' The ripping of cloth. The slow drag and a pair of illuminated emerald eyes and large white teeth. He had to get out!
…
"Hey," Piper smiled against her boyfriend's chest. Jason blinked blearily and stared at her face before relaxing and giving her a small smile.
"Hi," he kissed the top of her head. "How are you feeling about it?"
She thought about it. She would never truly recover from his death. The fact was as stanch as her conviction that they would have made it through together. Her unwavering faith had turned out to be the precursor to their downfall. She had placed too much stock in those she believed to be stout and formidable forces, to learn last minute they were just as fallible as well and it brought on more pain than she could bare. Yet, she could blame no one. Some deaths could not be prevented, no matter how much you try to change the circumstances. Apparently, she did not answer fast enough, because Jason worriedly rolled her over and held her hands.
"I shouldn't have asked. I am sorry. I—"
"It's fine, Sparky. I was just thinking. I'm fine." She patted his hair and pulled down his glasses, giggling at the sight. "I have to get use to you looking like Clark Kent with your glasses on."
He raised an eyebrow. "You know, I still don't completely understand those references."
"Well, maybe I should teach you." His cheeks turned pink and she slapped his arm. He laughed and kissed her cheek.
There was a brief moment of silence between them, encompassing only the shortest period of calm from whatever demon was sitting in the corner, waiting for them. Piper didn't like to dwell on the ghosts hiding in her closet. And Jason, he just loved to play therapist. He would drag her true feeling out of her eventually.
Piper gazed into his eyes, but Jason seemed a little distant since yesterday. Electric blue pupils focused over her head, staring at the soft whitish clouds in the sky. He was thinking deeply about something; his lips were thin, a crease formed on his otherwise smooth forehead, and his scar twitched slightly.
"What are you thin—"
"Go out with me. Let's have a date, this Friday." He cut her off and she looked at him, surprise evident in her eyes. Was the date a distraction or an honest attempt to build their relationship? A first date, which was something they never had the pleasure of experiencing. She swallowed down her suspicions, please just let me have this, and kissed him.
"Yes." A blissful smile spread across his lips and she smothered the urge to kiss him again.
"JASON!" A loud shout broke the two apart and they looked over the top of the roof to see Hazel wave up at them. Jason lifted Piper into his arms, bridal style and made a steady descent down to the steps of Cabin One.
"What is it with you guys all sleeping together today?" Hazel shook her head. "Doesn't anyone go to their own beds in this century?"
"Gosh, Hazel, someone woke on the wrong side of bed today." Piper joked as Jason set her down.
"I did not." She replied hotly. "Why were you guys on the roof, anyway?"
"We watched the stars." Jason smiled. "Nothing inappropriate, you can calm down."
Hazel blushed and pushed a stray curl out of her face. "I was going to invite you both to breakfast. Percy and Annabeth are going with us. I have to head over to the Roman camp and get Reyna and Frank, but you are welcome to walk with me."
"Yeah, we showered last night and changed. I wanted to say hi to my siblings after not seeing them for so long." Piper gave her a small smile. Hazel was a sweet girl, considerate beyond definition.
"Did Percy give you a tour last night?" Jason asked politely as they walked between cabins.
"No, I took a walk with Will Solace from the Apollo Cabin."
"Oh, Solace was awake. I forgot the Apollo kids wake with the sun." Piper commented.
"He said he pulled an all-nighter at the infirmary. He wants us to stop by later to check on our health."
What could Will Solace possibly tell her about her health? Absolutely nothing she did not already know. Sure, the infirmary was a good place to go for the bruises covering their bodies, but their mental health. There was nothing to monitor that, except for a shrink. Last time Piper checked, there was a shortage of camp shrinks that knew how to deal with grief and adventures in hell for Percy and Annabeth.
She kept her mouth shut about her opinion. Her bones ached in certain places, strange blue and purple bruises covering her skin. She almost startled when they continued walking past the arena. The additional cabins were closer to the original twelve, but now they were past that point.
"Where are we going?"
"The Romans are camped just ahead and the Hades cabin is up that way." Therefore, that was why Piper had never seen it during her stay at Camp Half-Blood.
They continued the trek until they reached a large black cabin. Greek fire hung outside on the lanterns, giving off a strange green glow. The door was had a freaky skull on the door and she shuddered. The air was a shocking stale quality, the grass on the ground withered slightly the closer it grew to the cabin. A deathly aura spread out, making Piper nauseous to her stomach. Hazel gasped.
"Piper and Jason, I need you to continue to the Roman camps and get Reyna and Frank for me. Thanks." She ran up the steps and opened the door, shutting it immediately behind her.
"That was weird." Piper was concerned now, but Jason grabbed her hand.
"You go and I will check it out, okay?" Her boyfriend kissed her forehead and started up the steps.
"I love you." She said before she could help herself. Piper did not let it sting her when he merely smiled, and did not reply back. Jason opened the door and entered, and Piper let herself walk away before dwelling on his behavior any longer.
…
"No, no, no, no, NO!" tears leaked desperately from his eyes and Nico shook against it. He was being held down by something heavy, obstructing and his legs would not let him run faster. Soft hands and slightly calloused hands worked to wipe the sweat off his lips, forehead, and blotchy cheeks in a hopeless attempt to remove the sickly sheen that covered his pathetic body. He cried out again, still feeling the ugly bands of confinement around his body, binding him to the solid rock.
"Please stop!" he sobbed, words slurring as he choked on his tears, spit, and snot.
"Nico, listen to me." He heard distantly. A sweet voice, like the ones that tormented his dreams.
"I can't…I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." The line became a mindless litany, words enunciated repeatedly as he quivered away from the touch and failed to escape. He didn't mean to fall asleep. He had been singing before, perhaps in a dream. Was this a dream? He couldn't tell, but he knew it was the pass. Nico could not remember what he had been doing, what had transpired before he landed in the dead space he remembered staring at the rows and rows of burning pyres. Unless that was what he saw, did he see more or less? The hands landed back on his skin and he was yanked manhandled out, but his legs were stuck. His arms were free though and he pushed back with what meager strength he had.
"Nico, stop. It is me. It's Hazel." The voice insisted; the feminine sounded closer than before and more unlike the ones from his mind. He fought the urge to panic, still feeling hands on him. "It's Hazel. We're in Camp Half-Blood and we are safe in the Hades Cabin. I'm going to put my hand in yours, okay?" He vaguely felt smooth hands grasping his. His eyes opened a little and he saw a girl with curly dark hair and quivering lips, shaking with every tear that trailed down her cheeks. He raised his hand to brush away the falling tears and his heart twitches a little. Why did the dark skin feel so familiar, yet so alien? He should know it, especially if she was touching him. But he turns his head and sees something blonde and that settles it. Nico turns his head back to the crying girl.
"Don't cry. I won't struggle. I promise I'll be good." He closes his eyes again. His captor can do what she wants, change into all the skins he knows and his position won't change. He will still be strapped down. Despite this, he still kicks.
"Hazel, he is burning up."
"Remove the blanket from his legs."
"What?"
"Just do it! He thinks he is trapped. He's tangled in the sheets and the more he struggles, the longer he will be caught in a flashback." Suddenly the weight was removed from his legs and he could breathe.
His breaths are quick and his eyes shoot open. Gasping open where his pupils are blown wide and he can't see anything but endless darkness. He lets out a scream. He's free. What does it matter if he cannot see? They can no longer touch him.
"We have to tell someone about this. We have to get Percy or Annabeth." The name made him jump like he should it as well. Faintly, he could feel the tug in his gut, his mind working to provide images of a taller man with sea-green eyes and dread pooled in his stomach at the thought. The image was replaced with black mist and those same eyes falling away from him with a predatory glance.
"No," the miserable sound broke through his lips before he could stop himself. He reached out and grabbed the girl, bringing his head to her chest, little pleas and begs spilling from his lips. "Stay please. I don't want to go back to them. Please!" His knuckles were white and she openly wept at the helpless boy in front of her. She enveloped his body in her arms, rocking him back and forth.
Somewhere, during the rocking, when his heart beat settled, Nico returned to himself. He was in the bed, the comforter in a heap on the floor, and red scratches on his legs. Hazel was too busy trying to console him to notice the change in his demeanor and he turned his head a little to see a teary-eyed Jason. Jason had seen this and so had Hazel. He pulled back from her arms and put her head in front of his line of sight.
"I am so sorry, Nico. I broke my promise. Please come back to me, the nightmare is over. We are safe." A voice in the back of his head mulled over his own, holding back his primary desire to hold her.
"I'm here. I'm here. It's okay now. I'm sorry I scared you." He kissed the top of her forehead.
"Does that happen often?" Jason voice was controlled, but his scar was twitching. Nico looked at him with a cold gaze.
"It is just nightmares. We all have them from time to time." He answered and pulled himself from the bed. He tumbled almost immediately and held onto the nightstand, his legs shaking. He turned his head and surveyed the damage. The bed was damaged, claw marks in the frame and tears in the sheets. He himself reeked of fear, shame, sweat, and piss. His hair clung to his head, sweat droplets rolling down his body.
"You have never had an episode this bad." Hazel approached him, palms facing up like she was nearing a wild animal.
"I just need a shower to clean up. You head to breakfast without me. I'll catch up after I clean this mess."
"Nico, you can barely stand." Jason rubbed his temples.
"All I need is a shower." He huffed. He actually needed a bathroom, all of it. His stomach twisted and distorted, and he suppressed the urge to hurl right then and there in front of them.
"You shower and I will clean this up." Hazel smiled at him and kissed his cheek.
He nodded, didn't bother to look at Jason again, and sprinted to the bathroom, locking the door behind him. Nico stuck his head into the toilet and heaved into the porcelain throne, little bits of fruit and bile mixing with the water. The air filled with the scent of the sick and diseased and Nico couldn't agree more. He was sick and diseased, it just a matter of the intensity. When he was done hurling, he went to the sink and washed out his mouth, looking up to see his reflection in the mirror.
The shorts he had on were covered in sweat and piss, the shirt once soaked in Hazel's tears was drenched with sweat. His cheekbones were sunken in, his wide eyes disgusted, and his lips cracked and chapped beyond belief. His legs were covered in blood, dried and fresh. His bandages were loose and he could see the infection spreading through the cuts. He should be worried, but he wasn't. Nico could care less about his abysmal appearance.
He turned the knob on the tub and let it fill to the top. He grabbed the soap, some rags, and peeled off his clothes. He sat in the bottom of the tub and the hot water shocked his body, but he didn't care. Nico soaked the wash clothes, lathered it with soap and went to work on removing the tingling from his skin. He was disgusting, filthy and he needed to be clean again. Could he be clean? Nyx had warned him he would not return the same after he stayed with her. So far, she was right.
His legs turned an angry pink, as did his chest and neck. Blood sunk to the bottom of the tub and yet, Nico could still see his face in the contents. His body shook and he looked to the mirror. Nico did not want to feel. Feel this or anything like it. So, he dunked his head below the water and prayed.