The Curse of the Ghost Captain

by L. Monster

Merchant Will Solace and his crew rescue a man at sea, seemingly the only survivor of a terrible shipwreck, but he never expected the man to be a pirate. Solangelo Pirates AU, in which Nico has magical ghostly powers, Percy is a fearsome pirate with dubious intentions and Will tries hard not to die.

2. Plans

Please take a second to look at the AMAZING ARTWORK ssshhut_up_meg (AO3) made for this fanfic! It was posted after the first chapter was published, so in case you missed it, you can either revisit Chapter 1, or go ahead and be totally blown away by clicking here:

/pm_patata/status/1409157482321113101

The Curse of the Ghost Captain

CHAPTER 2

"The Curse"

Nico di Angelo wasn't used to spending time at night inside the Captain's lodgings onboard the Charon, his pirate ghost vessel. He much preferred to climb up the mast and enjoy the bird's nest view, the moon and the salty breeze on his face, or sit on the front most railing, his legs perched on the shoulders of the skeleton mermaid carved on the very tip of the ship, relishing in the dark. This evening, however, as he readied himself for an audience with his crew, he forced himself to sit on the high-back mahogany chair – the Captain's chair – and wait, deep in thought, trying not to squirm at the contact with the squishy, moist velvet cushion that was certain to leave wet imprints on the back of his breeches. It had been over twenty-four hours since the Charon had emerged from underwater, and it still remained resolutely wet.

Nico remembered his first few hours back onboard the Charon, ordering his ghosts about to prepare not one, but two chambers, and the look of utter disbelief they tried to mask in their undead eyes. The ghosts that served onboard his vessel were not like the poor cursed soul Nico had come upon while recovering onboard the merchant ship that had rescued him while adrift. No, these ghosts – his ghosts – were bound to him by more than a promise to release them from the curse of their assassination in order to pursue those responsible for their death, as had been the case with the Spanish ghost Arturo. His ghosts were forever bound to him, for those responsible for their deaths were long dead, and thus, they held ho hopes of avenging their murder. Nico was their sole Master, until the day he drew his last breath.

The skull-shaped ring in his middle finger glistened in the moonlight that filtered through the broken panels of glass that remained on the dilapidated, rotting window frames. Nico stretched out his fingers, the way he'd seen women do whenever they admired a particularly expensive piece of jewelry, or an engagement ring.

He smiled bitterly at the thought. Ironically, the cursed object in his middle finger did very much feel the way he imagined an engagement ring would feel, heavy and effective for a lifetime. A binding reminder of what his life had come to be ever since coming into possession of his unearthly powers, and the purpose his existence now served.

There was a feeble knock on the door and Nico called Enter.

The door never opened. Instead, about a dozen shapes began to brew into the cabin like vapor, as his ghostly crew entered the Captain's reception area, walking – or floating – straight through the barnacle-encrusted walls.

Nico's eyes swept across the ghostly faces of his trusted man-servants. He knew their names and he knew their stories, but he didn't much like to think about their pasts, as they tended to remind him of the fate that awaited every living soul on the planet. Which was just as well. He'd discovered, early on, that in order for the ghosts to come permanently under his service, he had to award them a new name. He'd opted for giving them nicknames based on their personalities and idiosyncrasies after death.

Amongst the faces stood out a few of his favorites. Jaws, his navigator, was one of the first ghosts he'd picked up at sea. A victim of a shipwreck some fifty years ago, Jaws would have survived had one of his treacherous crewmembers not used him as a piece of driftwood and drowned him in order to survive himself. His murderer was long dead, so Jaws remained bound to Nico for as long as the young captain lived. Then there was Big Bear, whose nickname might sound ironic to those who laid eyes on the scrawny ghost, but would make total sense once they saw the way the dark-skinned Asian lad pummeled through his enemies – with nothing but his fists and bared sharp canines.

Then there was Fierro, meaning iron, one of his most recent acquisitions, who'd been a lucky find around the waters of the Spanish new world. Nico had been flabbergasted to find that Fierro had once been a fearsome Aztec warrior who'd taken to the seas – get this – for love.

The young Aztec had fallen in love with a Spanish conquistador, and had gone as far as abandoning everything and boarding the man's vessel, only to be beaten to death by the man's crewmembers, once they found out the nature of their relationship. For Fierro – a strange but undeniable beauty – had been a male passing for female. As for the lover in question, he had idly stood by as his crewmembers beat the young warrior to death, claiming he had been 'taken in' and 'deceived' all the while, in order to save his own neck.

Fierro, as Nico had nicknamed him after his iron backbone, was now free, in ghostly form, to cross-dress to his heart's content, which came in useful whenever Nico needed a ghostly female distraction, if only to frighten to death superstitious sailors who considered women at sea to be bad omens.

And yet, Fierro's real talent came into light months after his appointment as Nico's gunner, for the Ghost Captain had not been aware at the time of the young Aztec's own otherworldly, pre-murder powers, which he managed to retain even after death, as if being beaten to death for being attracted to members of his same sex hadn't been enough to make him an instant protégée of Nico.

Last but not least, was Jules Albert, Nico's loyal valet, who was allowed to keep his real name, for he had been Nico's servant in life, and as such, he belonged to him already.

Jules Albert stood in the middle of the group. The strange apparition preferred to show himself in the shape of a rotting zombie, which they'd discussed to the point of exhaustion, and Nico had always found himself on the losing end of the debate.

The fact that Nico had summoned these restless souls to work under his command was, admittedly, hard to live with at first. It is for this reason that he strove hard to get to know their stories, understand their grief and anger, adopting them into his new family, so long as he lived with the curse upon him – upon them all.

The curse.

He rephrased the thought in his mind.

So long as he lived with the curse upon him, yes, but also, until he found a way to break it, for Nico had a newly and irrevocable intention to set himself – and his crew – free, and it might have only a little to do with the other living inhabitant of his vessel.

William Solace, the young merchant that currently slept peacefully in one of the cabins below deck, had perhaps no idea that he had somewhat shifted Nico's own perception of life.

The ghosts stared at him in silently, showing no impatience, no exasperation. They merely waited until the moment their Master decided to address them.

He wondered what Will would think once he discovered that there were many more than the single ghost manning the ship.

With that thought in mind, he smiled at the damned souls present, his eyes flashing.

"Well?" Nico asked, making a fist with his ring hand and willing the ghosts forward.

Jules Albert tilted his head.

"Il n'est pas encore mort," replied the ghost in a rattling voice.

"Don't say it like that, of course he isn't dead. And please, English, Jules Albert. He doesn't seem speak anything but English, so you better get used to it," said Nico.

Jules Albert made a sour face, which had the effect of making him look even more decomposed than usual. If the rest of the crew shared the sentiment, they were at least wise to mask their annoyance, except for Fierro, who outright rolled his eyes.

"Don't give me that, Fierro. You learned English just fine," Nico added, nodding at the young Aztec ghost.

"I'm special," said Fierro who quickly composed himself, smirking and curtsying at the compliment, raising his skirt far over his knees, revealing fishnet stockings that Nico decided to ignore.

"He is not dead yet," repeated Jules Albert in a heavy French accent.

"We've established that," said Nico sardonically. "What of the curse? Have you sensed it in him?"

The ghost shook his head and his right ear fell off. Big Bear picked it up gingerly and smashed it back in place, punching a hole through the zombie's skull.

"Interesting, though there must be something of it left in him. He's been asleep for over a day now, far too long for anyone not mortally wounded," said Nico, his eyes narrowing.

"Maybe he's just lazy," offered Big Bear. Fierro smirked.

"We'll need to keep an eye on him when he wakes, there might be manifestations of it once he's regained consciousness," talking over the snickering ghost.

"He has something," Fierro interjected. "In his mouth."

Nico frowned. "What do you mean?"

Fierro shrugged. "I don't know, but I can sense it when he snores."

"Can you sense anything, Jules Albert?" Nico asked.

His valet shook his head. "When I am there, his mouth has always been closed."

"I authorize you two to find out, report right back to me. Just be careful, don't let him suspect anything," Nico commanded.

Fierro nodded and Jules Albert grunted, which Nico understood as tacit agreement.

"Votre sang – " Jules Albert said, then shook his head, his ear vaguely thumping against the inner walls of his skull. "I mean, your blood. It is heavy. Heavier still. The curse grows stronger. Your plan did not work. You are weaker, I can sense it."

Nico sighed.

"Thank you for pointing that out, I love it when my failures are so candidly highlighted. No, it didn't work. I only managed to destroy a perfectly good vessel and injure my goddamn ass," Nico spat.

He had avoided thinking too much of the reasoning behind his nautical 'accident', for it involved a dark place in his mind that Nico seldom allowed himself to visit.

Then touched his fingers to his lips. "Still, something good came out of it," he added, his thoughts on the young man in one of the cabins below deck. William Solace. William Solace and his hands around Nico's waist. William Solace's burning lips, his tongue licking circles inside Nico's mouth.

He had a distant feeling, somewhere in the back of his mind, that his current infatuation with William Solace had little to do with mere physical attraction. Each time he'd visited him in his cabin, he'd had the strange urge to join him in bed.

"Ehm," Fierro cleared his ghostly throat. "Maybe you don't want to share these thoughts with us?" he said with a knowing smile, which made Nico curse the fact that Fierro chose to present himself as a perfectly preserved ghostly version of his alluring self, with mismatched eyes and a seductive smile, and as such, his expressions were decidedly sharp and clear, and at this particular moment, showed nothing short of amusement.

Having a cursed ghost-manned crew would have seemed like an asset to any self-respecting pirate, but the mandatory telepathy that came with it was a downright pain in the ass.

"Do me a favor and turn into a starfish, Fierro. I don't need your sass right now," Nico said, and the young warrior instantly shifted shapes, landing on the floor with a dull thud. Big Bear picked ghost starfish Fierro up and placed him on top of his own head.

A few seconds of silence followed, during which Nico gazed out the window.

"I cannot die," Nico whispered, more to himself than to the rest of the crew, their impassive expressions betraying their lack of surprise, for they were still there, in ghost form, anchored to the invulnerable young Captain for as long as he drew breath.

"Yes, you can," said Jules Albert. "You are dying as you speak –"

"No, I can't!" Nico interrupted, losing his patience. "Not the way I hoped. Not through injuries, not through wounds. It's this damn curse that is keeping me alive, keeping me alive but killing me slowly, poisoning my blood, taking away my strength, wearing me out one day at a time until I –" Silence followed. Nico smiled bitterly. "Until what?" the Ghost Captain asked out loud. "Until what, exactly, only one person can give me the answer I seek."

"We are en route to Sarténe," said Jules Albert.

Nico nodded.

"That's the last place I knew her to be, but, what if she left? What if she isn't there?" he asked the room. The ghosts kept their silence, not knowing the answer.

"Only one way to find out," said Big Bear with a shrug, and starfish Fierro nodded, as far as a starfish could nod, falling over and hitting the ground with a mundane thump very much unlike a ghost.

"What of the mortal? I have expressed my concerns to you already, I think," asked Jules Albert.

"I know all about your so-called concerns. I assure you, there is nothing to worry about. He is not after Angelica. Keep an eye on him, feed him well, distract him," replied Nico, getting up and walking towards the broken window, the ghosts following him like a shadow. The full moon illuminated his pale face so he looked almost translucent, only slightly more substantial than the ghosts that flanked him.

"And, Jules Albert?" Nico said, beckoning his valet a step forward. He turned and faced the decomposing face of his oldest friend. "He cannot know. He must not know. Understood?"

Jules Albert nodded solemnly, and his jaw fell off.

"And in the name of God, stop falling apart. He cannot die of fright either, is that clear?"

A few hundred nautical miles away, a very different meeting was taking place.

The Argo II cut through the waves as smoothly as a well-sharpened pirate blade cut through the flesh of its soon-to-be captors. The canvas of the sails was stretched thin against the pummeling south-bound winds of Mediterranean Sea, which propelled the ship forwards at such an alarming speed that even the thrice-reinforced hull of the vessel creaked and whined with tension.

Inside the Captain's headquarters, three subdued pirates were seated around the table, their heads hanging low, their shoulders slouched in defeat. A half-empty bottle of rum sat in front of the pirate in the middle, who kept refilling the jewel-encrusted cups of his comrades.

Directly in front of them, another dejected figure, pale as death, slumped against the table with red-rimmed eyes, his face covered in soot, his blood-stained mouth drawn downwards. He would have looked like an utterly despondent, recently dismissed court jester had it not been for the commanding Captain's uniform he wore, and which now seemed to fit him as snuggly as it would a child.

Former Captain Jason Grace lifted his face just enough to take in the trio of disgraced pirates that sat before him, drinking as if they were hoping to wash down the shame of their own failures. As if.

How could he, Jason Grace, son of the formidable Captain Thunderbeard, have ended up in this position, sharing a table with these incompetent pirates? What would his father say if he were still alive to see his son sharing a table with these thugs?

He shook his head.

And then there was Reyna.

Poor, loyal, foolish Reyna, who remained on the brink of death, even now, after the surgeon of the Argo II had worked relentlessly on her for hours and hours on end.

The larger pirate in the middle raised the bottle of rum and began to refill their cups, accidentally spilling some of the dark-gold liquid on the table.

"Watch it, scabby sea bass!" yelled the pirate Jason knew to be called Leo, just as he reached out and tried to snatch the bottle from the larger pirate.

"Remember your place," slurred Frank "Fei" Zhang, his voice hoarse with drunkenness. He tried to heave the bottle away from Leo, but it was quickly snatched away by the female pirate on his other side.

"Ridiculous, foul bilge rats," said Piper Mclean, the beautiful one with the supernatural eyes, as she snatched the bottle away and took a hearty swig. "Y-you, it be all your goddamn fault," she hiccoughed, pointing a finger at her fellow crewmembers.

"You listen here, lascivious lass," said Frank, getting to his feet and almost tumbling over.

Piper laughed heartily, throwing her head back and stumbling to the floor.

"The rum!" yelled Leo, jumping over Frank, who promptly fell back on his ass, just as Leo reached out for the bottle on Piper's hand.

Jason shook his head and cradled his face in his hands just as the sound of shattering glass prompted a ridiculously loud exchange of insults and punches.

"ENOUGH," bellowed a commanding, familiar voice, and the three pirates sprang to their feet as if they'd been struck by lightning.

Jason looked around and saw Captain Percy Jackson, his childhood friend, stomp into the cabin with murder in his eyes, his hands behind his back, his dark hair falling over his eyes further shadowed by the large leather hat tilted precariously over his forehead.

Behind him strutted his Quartermaster Annabeth Chase, an ironic smile on her chiseled, unreadable face.

Percy walked around the table and instead of sitting at the table on the Captain's chair, he went to the window and sat on the windowsill. He opened his mouth wide and exhaled onto the glass panels, dampening them instantly with the heat of his breath.

The Captain of the Argo II could sense the eyes of every living being in the cabin on the back of his neck, but he paid them no mind. He lifted a finger and began to draw circles on the damp glass pane.

"Captain," said Frank in a perfectly mock impression of a sober man, his hat askew.

"Captain," repeated Leo and Piper, the former with a bloody lip, the later with shards of glass in her hair and rum and blood running down her face.

"Perce," said Jason, getting up from his seat with difficulty and limping a few steps towards the thoughtful captain. He was quickly intercepted by Annabeth Chase, who stopped him from reaching Percy with a hand on his shoulder.

Jason winced with pain. He sported a dislocated elbow alongside an injured thigh where he'd been shot, but he did not fall back.

"Just what is going on? Why are we moving at this speed? What the hell –" Jason spat, but was quickly silenced by the glance Percy directed his way.

There it was again, that mysterious glimmer in his friend's eyes.

"Jace," said Captain Jackson, his voice warmer and completely at odds with his strange demeanor. He held Jason's gaze for a few further seconds, then he looked away from him, nodding in the direction of his Quartermaster instead. "Annabeth, you tell them," he said, and returned to drawing circles on the window.

Annabeth pushed Jason back onto a chair and he promptly crumpled over with a hiss.

"We are moving at this speed because we are chasing an impossibly fast vessel that moves with inhuman propulsion. To answer your next question, Piper and I scouted the shores of Bonifacio for the better part of the night. What you may not know is that we recovered an important witness," she said as she conjured out a knife from her belt and began playing with the blade, digging it into her skin as if she were completing a puzzle on the pads of her fingers.

"You don't mean that cowardly scallywag –" Piper cut in, but was immediately silenced by the cold look Annabeth threw her way.

Frank, Leo and Jason shared a look of incomprehension peppered with a hint of disbelief.

It couldn't possibly be –

"Hazel Levesque," said Annabeth loudly. "Bring him in."

The cabin door flew open and the dark-skinned beauty walked with composed steps, pulling at a chain. Behind her walked in the shackled, manhandled figure of Octavian sans-last-name, the former crewmember of the Argo III and most recent mutineer-Captain.

Jason got to his feet and reached for his sword, which wasn't there.

"You!" Jason yelled, stumbling over and wincing with pain, just as Annabeth reached out to him and forcefully pulled him from the back of his shirt. Jason landed back on his chair and cursed loudly, his leg and shoulder throbbing painfully.

Octavian threw him a look of deepest loathing, and yet his chest heaved like a caged animal. That's when Jason noticed it. Octavian's body showed signs of torture – his face was heavily bruised, his shirt soaked with blood, he limped into the room as if he couldn't hold himself up on his legs.

"I've personally interrogated this man," said Quartermaster Chase. "And he has presented his plea to our Captain. Now, it is time for him to present his case to you, our crew. We are, after all, a democracy," she said, the strange term rolling off her tongue and dripping with irony.

"What could a slave possibly have to say to us?" asked Frank Zhang.

"Yeah!" interjected Leo with a hiccup. "We have no say in whatever his fate be. Whatever Captain commands we shall heed, no need to hear from cowardly swab –"

"Fool!" Piper cut in, smacking Leo hard on the back of his head. "Cowardly as the swab undoubtedly be, he successfully organized and carried out a mutiny against Captain Grace –"

"A mutineer?!" yelled Leo, his voice an octave higher, and he spat on Octavian's face.

Octavian shut his eyes as Leo's spit hit him over his nose and mouth, his face draining off the little color it had had.

"Stop it!" said Hazel in outrage, pulling at the chain and accidentally yanking Octavian to his knees.

But the man merely raised his hands to wipe his face with his sleeve, then gave his audience an audacious, cold smirk.

"Call me what you may," said Octavian in a venomous whisper. The atmosphere could have been cut with a blunt blade. "But you won't be too keen to disrespect me once you've heard half of what I've found out. You have no idea what you're dealing with, you sad, drunken excuse for a pressgang."

Piper raised a hand as if to smack him, but Frank intercepted her in mid-air.

"Explain yourself," he said, an eye on his Captain who looked resolutely away from them, his fingers drawing circles on the damp glass.

Octavian's smirk drew wider as he got to his feet and, pulling at the chains that held him captive, managed to limp onto a chair at the Captain's table.

"I could use some rum," he said.

The pirates around the table shared a look of disbelief, but when Annabeth Chase herself walked to the Captain's own wine cabinet and reached out for a bottle, placing it on the table in front of Octavian, the rest of the crew grew silent.

Octavian uncorked the bottle with his teeth and took a long swig.

"Ah," he sighed, smacking his lips with pleasure. "Now, where were we?"

He looked around the room. Nothing but murderous eyes stared back at him.

"Right," he said, leaning back on his chair comfortably. "Your friend the Ghost King."

"Ghost Captain," interjected Jason, his voice dangerously low, his eyes glued to Octavian's aorta, as if he were calculating the ways he could plunge a sharp object into it.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," replied Octavian, his smile widening at the look Jason gave him.

"If you got something to say, I suggest you say it fast. As in now," threatened Frank, the veins on his neck and forehead bulging.

Octavian laughed.

"You were magnificent, you were," he said humorlessly. "Surrender now or whatnot, you said to him. For all the good it did you, you might as well have threatened him with a cuddle."

Frank took a deep breath, his entire frame shaking with anger.

"And you!" said Octavian, his eyes on Leo. "I'll blow your kneecap to pink mist! That was hilarious! You looked like a ruffled kitten, you did!"

Leo summoned his scimitar from behind his back, which only prompted Octavian to laugh harder.

"Stop!" he laughed mercilessly. "You're killing me!"

Piper took a step forward, her wrist now free from Frank's grasp. She towered over Octavian as she looked down at him with the upmost disdain.

"And you," Octavian said, blowing her a kiss. "You are an apparition, indeed," he said. "But wenches never get the job done properly. And flaunting your pathetic curves will take you nowhere in this mission, so I suggest you tug the girls back into your corset and return to your knitting, because you won't be of any help in this matter. Your beloved Ghost Warrior will be more than indifferent to your, shall we say, attributes?"

Piper looked as if she'd been smacked across the face, her lower lip quivering, her face completely drained of color.

"Captain," she said, her voice cold as death. "Is there a reason we haven't fed this scumbag to the sharks? I know how much you like feeding scum to the sharks."

Percy didn't even turn, it was Annabeth who cleared her throat, making Octavian flinch.

"Hold it," said Jason all of a sudden. "Just why are we listening to whatever this traitor has got to say?"

Octavian turned on him like an actual shark smelling fresh blood.

"You," he hissed, and his voice was so full of venom even Jason flinched.

"Have you something to say to me?" Captain Grace recovered quickly, his hands perched on the table, as if readying himself to get up and pounce within seconds.

Octavian smiled cruelly.

"Give me the object, Nico. Give me the object, and I will keep you safe," said Octavian in such an cruel imitation of Jason's voice the whole crew stared in disbelief, their eyes going from Jason to Octavian and back.

"I – I –" stammered Jason. "How could you know – you weren't even there!"

"So, it's true," said Percy Jackson all of a sudden, and all eyes turned on him.

Octavian smirked.

"You couldn't see me, for I was perched outside on the hull. I saw you through one of the windows, I saw more than you have ever seen in your pathetic lives," said Octavian, his voice shrill. "As soon as I jumped onboard the Apollon and saw… and saw the devastation, call me what you must, but I decided I wouldn't be slaughtered by those, those goddamn ghosts!"

His voice echoed throughout the cabin, and silence reigned for a few seconds, until Jason let out a disbelieving laugh.

"What is this?" Jason said, his eyes on Percy.

"Listen to him, Jason," said Captain Jackson, his eyes back on the window pane.

"Your little friend, Nico di Angelo, the so-called Ghost Prince – he got his name for a reason, you bloody fools! He can summon the dead through –" he stopped and smirked. "Through an object in his possession."

At this, Percy got up from his post on the windowsill and faced his crewmembers, who stared back at him with their mouths open.

"What this man says, makes sense," he said.

The room remained in silence for a minute or so, with everyone throwing suspicious glances at each other.

"Captain," said Frank, "With all due respect –"

"It makes sense!" yelled Percy, and Frank promptly closed his mouth.

"Well," said Piper, her hands on her hips. "Whatever this object is, we're going to take it from him, are we not? So, the question is, what is it?"

The crew looked at Octavian for an answer.

The pale blonde only smiled back.

"I didn't see what it was, exactly," he said, "I only caught a glimpse from far away. It was small, round. Shiny."

Leo rolled his eyes and snorted.

"Small, round, shiny," he said. "It must be Frank's ass."

"That is less than helpful," added Frank.

"There's one more thing," said Octavian, looking around the crewmembers, his eyes lingering on Hazel, carefully studying her features.

"What?" asked Piper with disdain.

Octavian took his time to reply.

"I saw it from a distance, but I clearly saw what it can do. And, if you must know, I also saw the way it was operated. That mysterious object that can summon ghosts back from the dead… that magical item…" he stopped for effect.

Percy's eyes glinted in the dark. He put his hand in his coat pocket and summoned a small figurine, which he twirled in his fingers, knowing fully well that nobody else in the cabin would see, for their attention was concentrated elsewhere.

"It fits in your mouth," whispered Octavian, and Percy's lips moved as the chained prisoner's, phrasing the exact same words, his eyes on the bite-sized figurine in his hand, as if he had known all along what the prisoner would say.

"To that effect," spoke Annabeth Chase, making everyone jump. "We have drafted a new plan."

She looked at Percy, and he nodded.

"We believe Nico di Angelo will eventually come looking for us, but in order for that to happen, we need to pressure him," she explained to the room.

"Why would he come looking for us?" asked Piper, wiping her bloody lip with her sleeve.

"I have something that he will need, eventually," Percy replied dryly.

"And hence, the new plan. Hazel, please release Captain Octavian."

"What!?" yelled Jason, getting up too forcefully and wincing with pain.

"Jace," called Percy. "Calm down, Annabeth?"

Annabeth sighed in exasperation.

"I will not explain every bit of our plan to you, Captain Grace," she said sardonically. "But our plan of action requires something that only Captain Octavian can provide."

"And what may that be?" Jason said sourly.

Annabeth smirked. "Unlike you or Reyna, who are currently incapacitated, Captain Octavian is able to walk, to some extent without limping, and find our next objective."

There was silence in the cabin, which Annabeth seemed to be enjoying to no end. Somewhere on the other side of the table, Octavian sneered arrogantly.

"Well, what is it? You're killing us here!" Leo yelled, then hiccoughed loudly.

"William Solace, of course," Annabeth finally replied. "He's the only one who knows what he looks like. I assure you, tall, blond and dreamy is not descriptive enough to find our missing person. We need Octavian."

Will moaned and stirred as he slowly began to wake up. The rough sheets had become entangled around his feet, making him feel as if he'd been tied up, which may have been the cause of a few of his most recent nightmares.

Suddenly, he felt a cold, wet something against his cheek and his eyes flew open in alarm. He reached out and his hand closed around a slender wrist near his own face.

"It's me, dumbass," said a familiar, playful voice.

Will blinked hard and rubbed his eyes, and Nico di Angelo came into focus in front of him. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, one hand on Will's shoulder, another one holding up a small, soft-looking rag. Will realized Nico had been wiping his face with a wet cloth.

"H-hey," Will stammered, his throat dry, his head throbbing painfully.

Nico got up and walked to a small dresser by the window, where he began to busy himself with a tea set. The moonlight cast a silver glow around his delicate hands, the sheer glare of it forcing Will to squint painfully at the light.

Out of the corner of his eye, Will saw the ring on Nico's finger as the latter poured a cup of tea and began to add cubes after cubes of sugar, stirring with a little silver spoon. The sound of the spoon clinking against the edges of the cup reverberated inside Will's skull, like hammer on anvil.

"How are you feeling?" Nico asked, carrying a tray towards Will's bedside table, its clinking contents hammering against Will's ears.

Will rubbed his temples and frowned.

"My head hurts," he said.

Nico nodded. "Anything else?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" Will asked back.

Nico offered him the cup, prompting Will to sit up on the bed. As he did so, the room began to spin. Will gasped and grabbed onto the sheets as if they were a lifeline.

"I mean just that," said Nico, gently grabbing Will by the shoulders in order to steady him. "Dizziness, disorientation, anything out of the ordinary?"

"I guess, now you mention it," said Will, settling back down against his pillow in a sitting position. "Dizziness, disorientation, and… maybe, I don't know. Is it me or is this room too bright?"

Nico looked around the dark room and smiled.

"Hypersensitivity to light," he said. "And sound?"

Will nodded. "That racket you did with the spoon over there," he said, making Nico laugh.

"Drink this," Nico said, holding up the teacup against Will's mouth.

Will looked at Nico and smiled.

"I like this," he said. "You, taking care of me for once."

Nico pressed the cup against Will's lips, silencing him on the spot.

"Don't get used to it, you'll be fine in no time."

Will parted his lips, and initially, the stench of the thing made him want to close his mouth right back up. The liquid smelled like a tannery with hints of rotting wood, but Nico tilted the cup and some of the liquid spilled into his mouth. At first, Will tasted nothing but sugar, but suddenly, it felt like a warm summer's day. He could feel sunlight on his face, wild soft grass under his naked feet, and then an aftertaste of… fish?

"What is this?" Will asked, frowning down at the innocent-looking liquid.

Nico pressed the cup more insistently against his lips, edging him to drink every last drop.

"Tea," he said, not looking at Will.

"That's not tea," Will said, his hand wrapping around Nico's wrist to stop him from getting up and walking away.

Nico turned and their eyes met.

At that moment, Will could distinctly discern the several intricacies of Nico's warm, coffee-colored irises. He'd never been able to see this clearly before.

"Wow," he said, his hand cupping the side of Nico's face and pulling him closer to better observe the depths of his eyes.

Nico almost fell forward, but managed to steady himself right on time. He allowed Will to pull him closer, and stared back into Will's eyes in turn.

And what alarming information Nico gathered from staring deep into those pools of blue, he was wise to keep to himself.

"Hey," Nico whispered, gently prying Will's hands off him and pressing them back over Will's lap. "We have a lot to talk about, now that you're awake. Are you feeling up for it?"

"Yeah," said Will, then wondered if he hadn't spoken to rashly, considering his splitting headache.

"Good," said Nico. "Would you like to take a bath, change your clothes? I can wait. We can have supper later, once you're feeling more like yourself again."

Nico spoke in a perfectly natural way, without implications, but that didn't stop Will from feeling a blush creep up his neck and cheeks.

"A-a bath would be nice," Will replied, sharply aware of Nico's eyes on him.

"I'll have Jules Albert draw you a hot bath, he's fairly adequate at that," said Nico.

"Wait," Will interjected just as Nico made a move to get up. "Was it all real?" he asked urgently, then sat in silence for a few seconds. "The whole thing, everything? Was it real?"

Nico took Will's hands in his, pressing down slightly as if to give him courage.

"Yes," he replied, matter-of-factly. "You were brilliant."

Will made a sound between a derisive snort and a chuckle.

"I don't remember much of what I did. I'm clumsy as hell and I tend to trip every other step. But you, you were amazing," Will said, and he couldn't help but think back on the way Nico spun in his arms, and the way his mouth primordially attacked his, without remorse, without prisoners.

Nico seemed to sense his thoughts, and he shook his head in response.

"You were amazing," he cut in, just as both their minds traveled back to that moment in time in which they'd shared a mind.

"Don't let me keep you," Nico said suddenly, breaking the spell, "get ready and then we'll drink to… surviving and all that. I promise I'll explain everything, to the best of my ability."

"When you say Jules Albert," Will interrupted, pulling Nico back just as he appeared to turn away, "you don't mean… that – that ghost thingy? W-was that real too?"

Nico smiled indulgently, with an exaggerated sigh. "I guess this is as good a time as ever," he said, sitting back down on the edge on the bed and smoothening the sheets.

"Gulp," whispered Will fearfully.

"You are onboard a rotting, long-sunken, cursed pirate ship recently brought back to the surface by unearthly powers that even I don't quite understand, manned by wayward ghosts entirely under my command but whom I suspect to have their own agenda, including cross-dressing and driving me insane. Other than us, there are no living souls in an area of about at least ten nautical miles around. That sums it up, in a nutshell. If you don't think you are capable of coping with this information, blink twice, then I'll be sure to plunge my sword straight through your heart so as to put you out of your misery as painlessly and quickly as humanly possible," said Nico calmly, placing his right hand on the hilt of the blade in his sash, a hint of a smile on his handsome face.

Will swallowed, his face drained of all color. He took in Nico's impassive expression, making sure to keep his eyes resolutely open until tears began to gather around the corners of his eyes.

Nico began to laugh, cupping Will's face and pressing their foreheads together.

"You really are utterly ridiculous," Nico whispered, his smile so bright Will found it almost blinding.

"You're just mean," Will whispered back, grabbing a strand of Nico's long hair and yanking at it sharply.

"Ouch. You'd be wise to start being exceedingly nice to your Captain," Nico interjected. "My ghosts are very protective of me."

Will let go of Nico's hair and gently hooked his fingers behind Nico's ears, pulling him close enough so their lips were almost touching.

"Is this nice enough?" he whispered, the pads of his fingers massaging the back of Nico's neck, his lips feathering over Nico's as he spoke. Will's heart beat madly against his ribcage, expecting the moment in which their lips would meet.

Nico purred in response, momentarily mesmerized by Will's essence; his sugary breath and the sight of his slightly chapped lips enthralled him. Then, just as quickly, he remembered his place and the darkness flowing through his veins, and he pulled away slightly, pressing his lips to Will's cheek instead.

"Sorcerer," Nico said huskily, his lips lingering momentarily over Will's cheek and dangerously close to his ear. "You want to drive me insane too, is that it?"

Will's lips parted just as he tilted his head, his mouth pointed to align itself against Nico's, but the latter barely lingered enough to feel Will's breath on his lips before he pulled away.

"Enjoy your bath, I'll see you at dinner," Nico said, getting up and walking out of the cabin in the uninterested, steady steps of a Captain strutting around his property.

His property, Will thought. Is that what I am, now?

Will's eyes remained glued to the strange figure of the man he had rescued from a shipwreck not a fortnight before, and how now seemed to be in total control of his – Will's – existence henceforth.

As he exhaled in slight disappointment at Nico's sudden departure, Will took a look around his lodgings.

His cabin couldn't have been more different from the one he'd inhabited onboard the Apollon. His current apartments were twice as large, with thrice as many pieces of furniture, which at first sight had appeared luxurious, and now, within second glance and under the blinding moonlight that drifted through the window, appeared ancient and unsanitary at best.

A large armoire took up most of the space directly opposite Will's bed, as did a large full-scale mirror, its edges encrusted with barnacles and live shellfish.

That's when Will looked around the cabin more carefully, taking in every detail with seemingly new eyes. Every wooden board – from the planks that made up the ceiling to the ones that stretched across the floor – seemed to weep moisture to the point of bursting. The delicate tea set that Nico had brought over to his bedside might have once been an item of pure luxury, but now showed cracks every other place, as if it had only been recovered from a shipwreck that happened some five hundred years ago. The sheets on his bed gave off a distinct whiff of dampness particular to hastily-dried garments, and now that he came to think of it, so did his mattress and pillows.

In summary, the place looked as if it had barely survived a flood, or as if someone had hosed it down and never given the godforsaken place enough time to properly dry.

Or the way a ghost ship would smell after reemerging back into the surface after spending God-know how long under the sea.

Will lifted an arm and smelled his armpit.

"Whew," he said, grimacing away from the offending area. "I guess I could use a bath."

At that precise moment, there was a feeble knock on the door, making Will jump a mile into the air and land atop the bed.

"N-Nico?" he asked weakly, fully aware of what the answer would be.

"Room service," came an unexpected, unfamiliar voice in a heavy accent that Will could not place.

"W-what?" Will said, collecting his damp pillow and pulling it flush against his chest, shielding half of his face behind the fabric of the pillowcase and feeling like an utter child.

The door never opened. Instead, two forms brewed into the room like thick steam, gathering into distinctive figures only a few steps away from where Will stood atop his bed.

Will tried to gather himself. He had, after all, expected a ghostly apparition – once his memories and Nico's words had made some sort of sense – but he had never expected them to look so alive.

On the right side, closer to the window, stood a phantom dressed in the fashion of a Venetian gentleman – cream-colored breeches, a dark vest and ruffles on both wrists and neck – unnervingly at ease in the highest fashion available around most ports that were worth a doubloon. To his left stood an unearthly beautiful apparition clad in an unmistakable Flemish bodice laced over a scandalously large Spanish guardainfante, which spilled so broadly out the waist it made the ghost look like no fewer than two people were hiding under the skirt at each side.

"Hello?" Will said, trying to sound brave and failing miserably.

The ghosts stared at him in silence for a few seconds.

"Hello," said the ghost in a dress. "My name is not something you will ever be able to pronounce in your common tongue, but you may call me Fierro, as Master does."

Will took in the strange specter, everything from the curly hair – just like his – to his mismatched eyes, his slightly aquiline nose, his chiseled cheek bones and strong chin.

"You're a man," Will said cleverly, as if he'd only just solved a mystery that most of his fellow classmates at school had failed to solve.

The ghost gave him a scathing look.

"I am not a man," the ghost said with disdain. "Nor am I a woman. You pitiable white men, with your narrow conceptions and your monolithically tiny ideas."

"Whoah," Will said, finding the conversation verging on the familiar. "I'm so not trying to offend you here. If anything, you're the best dressed man I've ever seen, or should I say the most fearsome-looking woman I've ever met? Give me a break here, I'm new to this whole ghost thing, I don't know how much of you is offended by the ghost reference and how much is pissed at the man/woman thing, but my head really hurts and I'm pretty sure even you can sense how bad I smell, so please, don't kill me today, please?"

Will spoke with so much honesty that Fierro, the crossdressing ghost, had to stifle a laugh and elbow the stoic ghost to her right.

"Living humans, huh, Jules Albert," Fierro said, doubling over with laughter.

The zombie ghost tilted his head just as his right arm threatened to fall off, then he gathered himself with a skeletal shiver and began to grow more substantial before Will's eyes

"Maître William called for a hot bath?" the ghost said, and the words came out both heavily accented and as if they had taken the apparition every last bit of will power to speak.

Will took a deep breath and something akin human confidence began to take over him.

"A hot bath would be real nice, thank you, Jules Albert," Will said, then cast a glance towards the cross-dressing ghost. "And that skirt is real nice, Fierro," he added for good measure.

The ghost in the skirt gave Will such a toothy grin that he thought the apparition might have been about to attack him. But to his surprise, as if bound by magic, which they probably were, the ghosts twirled around excitedly and summoned Will into an adjoining room.

Will tried not to pay much attention to his surroundings, but his "new" eyes kept summoning his attention to the tiniest, most uninteresting objects – a spider web here and there, a nail sticking out of a wooden board – until he found the right way to go about, by focusing on his footsteps instead.

They reached a door at the end of the hall, which opened into a large cabin facing the back of the ship. The entire back wall seemed to be missing, the area made up instead by mismatched glass panes that offered an impressive view of the sea and the foamy white tail the ship left behind.

A few candles had been lit in the corners, illuminating a beautifully-crafted wooden tub that took up most of the room, and which, Will quickly realized, smelled like sugar and other sweetened spices, giving the room an otherworldly sense of homeliness, as if the cabin had been expecting him – and only him – all these years.

"The water is just right," said Fierro, walking into the room and trailing an incorporeal hand into the water, which failed to produce a single ripple.

"Thank you," said Will, looking around the room for a modesty curtain, but quickly resigning himself to undress in front of a ghost, as if that wasn't enough to drive someone insane.

Once Will got in the large tub and the foamy bubbles had built around him like a fortress, he began to relax for the first time in a while. He noticed the water took iridescent tones that didn't offend his eyes under the candlelight, and he even recognized a few of the scents that his nose happened to pick up from time to time – vanilla, cinnamon, cardamom and olive – each more comforting than the other, although Will did catch a fishy whiff underneath the pleasant scents, as if they were there to mask the smell of what Will decided must have been salt water from the sea, hence the fishiness.

"This is insane," Will said out loud, relishing in the comfortable feeling and sinking down until only his nose stuck out of the water.

And to think he had been in pain, some few hours ago.

Pirate boots against his ribcage. A fist over his hipbone. A hard smack across his face.

All that pain felt immaterial within the depths of that wonderfully hot, scented water, which also began to conjure unimaginable (were they even real) images into Will's mind.

A slender waist. Calloused, tiny fingers lacing with his. The sharp tip of a tongue sliding into his mouth like a hot blade. And his own arousal at the time, utterly refusing to stand down – not in the face of impending doom, not in the face of the chilled and unforgiving waters of the Mediterranean Sea.

Then, Nico's face came into focus in Will's mind, and his cock began to grow hard, he stroked once and twice before he remembered he wasn't alone in the room – the ghosts were still and unmovable by the door as if keeping guard – so, he let go of his dick and sank deeper into the tub.

After all, he would be seeing Nico in no time, no need to exhaust himself ahead of time.

Will smiled with the corner of his mouth. What kind of pervert did this make him? The fact that he was looking forward to getting some physical attention from the young Captain a lot more than he was looking forward to answers to all those questions that had been plaguing his mind from the moment he woke up.

But what could he say? The man was definitely attractive.

And a good kisser.

A great kisser.

He began to stroke himself again almost absent-mindedly at the recollection. He let go just as quickly.

"Damnit, Will," he hissed. "Get it together."

"Master be needing anything else?"

Will jumped, forgetting once again that he wasn't alone.

"Uh," he hesitated. "Is there a chance I can get some privacy here?"

"Captain wants you looked after," said Fierro, who seemed to be in charge of doing all the talking, while the other ghost did all the scowling.

"What do you mean? Nico wants me watched?" he asked.

Fierro snorted, then nodded curtly.

"You could say so, but not in the way you're probably hoping," he said with a wink.

"God, am I that transparent?" Will asked, gathering a few bubbles to cover his crotch area and tilting his head back in exasperation.

"Not exceedingly," replied Fierro. "In fact, I'd say you're fairly solid. We're transparent," he said, pointing at himself and Jules Albert, who did nothing but stare at Will with undead, unblinking eyes.

Will was a bit startled at the ghost's unmistakable playful tone.

"You're not like other ghosts," said Will. "Not that I have met many of them but still."

"I'm special," said the ghost with a mysterious smile.

Will nodded. "What's your story? Am I allowed to ask that? More importantly, are you allowed to tell me?"

Fierro nodded.

"You are allowed to ask, but I am under no obligation to tell," he said.

"Jeez, it was just a question," said Will, raising his eyebrows. "Just trying to be friendly."

There was silence for a few seconds but for the sound of water sloshing about as Will waved his arms absent-mindedly.

"You could try naming me," said the ghost, tentatively. To his side, the other ghost, Jules Albert, stiffened slightly.

Will frowned.

"Name you? Isn't your name Fierro?" he asked.

"That is the Captain's name for me, so I belong to him. You can name me, or you can try to, at any rate, and I'll also belong to you," said Fierro, pointing at Will's mouth. "Then, you can command me to tell you my story."

Will pondered this for a few seconds. "But why name you? Why can't I just befriend you or something?"

"Befriend? I don't know this word," said Fierro. "Be friend?"

"Never mind," said Will, waving a hand before his face. "But I don't know what to call you. I've never named anything before. Well, I had a pet goose when I was growing up back in England, but I don't think that –"

"What was its name?" Fierro asked.

"It was called Alex, but –"

"Alex is good," said Fierro. Beside him, Jules Albert's neck moved from one to the other as if he were watching a ball game. "All you have to do is make it official. Name me, say something to that effect. Like you mean it."

"Uh," Will stammered. "I hereby name you Alex?" he phrased it like a question. For a second, nothing happened, but then Will felt a distinct, warm ripple go through him, and it had nothing to do with the water in the tub.

Jules Albert's jaw fell off its hinges and hit the floor.

"Try now. Command me," the newly christened Alex-Fierro said.

"I – I command you to pass me the soap?" Will asked unsurely.

Alex-Fierro rolled his eyes. "I would have done that anyway if you had asked. You need to command me to do something that I might refuse anyone but my Master. Something unsavory."

"Something unsavory?" Will repeated, and his eyes landed on the jawless ghost next to him. "I command you to pick up Jules Albert's jaw, put him back in place and kiss it better?"

Alex-Fierro's eyes widened in horror. Then Will watched, equally horror-struck, as Alex did exactly as Will commanded, all the while keeping a disgusted look on his face. Jules Albert's jaw snapped back into place and Alex grudgingly gave it a gentle peck on the chin before quickly stepping away and making retching sounds.

"It worked!" Will said, barely stopping himself from clapping.

"You are one sick michomitl," Alex-Fierro said between gagging sounds. "I am already regretting this."

"Wait, so – it's as simple as that? I can just name whatever ghost I encounter and they'll belong to me?" Will asked with a frown. "That doesn't sound very foolproof. Then anyone could do it, and ghosts would be a thing, right?"

Jules Albert rubbed his chin with his sleeve and grunted, then he disappeared into thin air.

"D-did I say something wrong?" Will asked.

"No," said Alex-Fierro.

Will waited for a further explanation, but the ghost remained resolutely silent. Will wondered if he could ask a follow-up question before he quickly realized that, under the exchange they'd only just had, he could theoretically ask for anything, and the ghost would have to obey. This raised an additional question.

"Is there anything I am not allowed to ask you to do?" Will asked.

"I will do as you please, so long as it does not go against strict orders of the Captain, who is, after all, my original Master," Alex replied.

"Then what am I?" Will asked.

Alex smirked. "You're the lesser one."

"I don't understand!" Will said in exasperation, throwing his hands up and splashing water out of the tub. "Why is it so hard to talk to ghosts? Can't you just pretend to be human for once?"

He hadn't really meant it quite as literally as Alex took it. Will let out a yelp when he saw the shape of Alex Fierro turn instantly corporeal – his cheeks flushed with color, his mismatched eyes growing bright in shades of gold and brown respectively, his dress a kaleidoscope of greens and pinks – as if he'd simply been another living occupant of the vessel who just so happened to walk into Will as he took a bath.

"Oh my God, what in the hell!?" Will yelped, his ass sliding down the tub until his whole head was underwater. He kicked and righted himself, his hair now sticking to his face, pointing at the extremely substantial youth that only a few seconds before had been made of white smoke.

"You asked for human. This, I can do," Alex-Fierro said, pointing at himself. "I'm special."

Will had swallowed a mouthful of fishy water that did not remotely taste of vanilla, cinnamon, cardamom or olive oil, and was now torn between coughing, gagging and simply gawking.

"D-does Nico know about this?" Will asked, pointing at Alex.

"Yes," Alex replied. "And, no."

"We're going to talk about this later," Will said. "I think I need to get out of this water now. I smell like turtle soup."

It took him a further while to get dressed, leaving Alex to the task of selecting his garments for the evening – which admittedly took much longer than Will had previously anticipated – before finally walking into the mess hall.

As Will walked in, shielding his eyes from the brightness of the candlelit room, his eyes finally fell on Nico, who'd been having an urgent, whispered conversation in rapid French with his ghost-valet.

"Alors, ça suffit!" Nico hissed quickly, his eyes on Will. He promptly composed himself and stood up from his chair.

"Whoah," said Will, taking in his surroundings more carefully. "This is your mess hall?"

The place could have easily accommodated a gathering of one-hundred people, each with his or her own individual pet ghost. There was definitely room to set up at least a dozen large tables and benches, however, most of the area was taken up by a single rectangular table covered in a tattered cream-colored tablecloth, the surface laden with bottles of wine, bowls of soup and large silver platters of everything from steaming stewed fish, vibrantly-red crabs and lobsters and piles upon piles of oysters.

"How are you feeling?" Nico said, walking to Will and taking his hand. Will had the distinct feeling that Nico was feeling for his pulse, as he, Will, had done many times to men in the sick bay, thanks to his relatively extensive medical knowledge.

"Much better, thanks," Will replied, and his stomach grumbled just as loudly.

Nico smiled. "Let's eat, we can talk later. Fierro, you –" Nico stopped as his eyes landed on the solid figure of his Aztec warrior ghost. "You can leave us now."

Will cast one final look at a very human-looking Alex, who curtsied first at Nico, then at him, and walked through the wall as if it hadn't even been there.

Will rubbed his eyes.

"That," he said, pointing at the departed apparition, "will take some time to get used to."

Nico nodded. "Jules Albert was just telling me about it. Here, have a seat," he said, motioning to a chair. He then took a seat next to Will.

Will's mouth watered at the sight before him, but he didn't want to be rude. He waited until Nico had finished pouring them wine from an ancient-looking bottle covered in seaweed and barnacles.

"Eat up," Nico said, picking up an oyster and shucking it open.

Will needed no further invitation. He reached out for the nearest lobster and tugged at the tail so quickly its exoskeleton flew to the back of the room.

"Sorry," he said, attempting to get up to pick the discarded object, but Nico stopped him with a hand on his wrist.

"The upside of having servants is," he said, offering Will a freshly shucked oyster, "you don't need to tidy up after yourself."

Will smiled and threw his head back as he tilted the oyster into his mouth.

"That," Will said, "is the most delicious thing I've ever eaten."

Nico smiled and continued to shuck oysters, then proceeded to crack open lobster shells and crabs, setting them on Will's plate as he did so.

Will ate ravenously, taking gulps of wine here and there to wash the massive amount of food he put in his mouth. He'd always had a bit of an appetite, but this was beyond words.

"You're not eating?" Will asked, his mouth full of crab.

Nico smiled indulgently, then reached for the soup ladle.

"This is my favorite," he said, pouring them both a healthy measure of soup into their bowls. "Give it a try."

Will took a spoonful of the golden liquid, expecting a fish stew or something seafood-y, as their meal seemed to have come out entirely out of the sea, hence, he was not ready for the explosion of flavor that filled his mouth, or the sudden burst of strength that seemed to flow through his veins.

"I take back what I said," Will offered. "This is the most delicious thing I have ever tasted! Nico what is this?"

Nico smiled, taking a spoonful of soup himself. He closed his eyes and relished in the flavor, as if he had been eating a scrumptious, rare delicacy.

"I'm afraid if I tell you, you won't like it anymore," the Captain replied.

Will lifted up the bowl to his mouth and drank the entire thing, licking his lips.

"Can I have more of that?" he asked.

Nico chuckled.

"Pace yourself, we're the only ones eating here, so there's a lot to go through," he said, carelessly waving a finger in the direction of the impressive amount of food set before them.

"True," said Will, reaching out for an oyster from the pile that Nico had shucked for him.

Will had mostly dined at fishing villages for the past few years – what with his trips taking him from city to city, as he continued to set up his connections and build his business – but he'd never eaten seafood like this before. He wasn't a stranger to it, by all means, but every single dish he'd ever tasted seemed to pale in comparison to the banquet set before him. Maybe he was just really hungry.

With that thought in mind, he reached for another oyster and just as he began to savor the succulent meat, his teeth bit down on something hard.

"Ow," he groaned, spitting out a large object into his hand.

"Are you alright?" Nico asked, his glass of wine suspended in mid-air.

Will looked down at the offending object that nearly chapped his molars, and his eyes widened in surprise.

"A pearl," he said, rubbing the tiny sphere with his napkin. "Nico, I found a pearl!"

"So you did," Nico replied, going back to his wine.

Will was aware of the pearl trading business, he knew they were incredibly hard to collect, as it required especially trained divers to make it to the bottom of the sea, and he had never seen one this large.

"Here," Will said, offering it to Nico on his outstretched palm.

Nico raised an eyebrow.

"Are you giving it to me?" he asked unnecessarily.

"A gift," said Will with a smile. "For saving my life."

Nico stared at the pearl with a strange look on his face, as if Will had been offering him his beating heart instead. "You've saved my life before, we're even. No need to thank me."

Will rolled his eyes.

"Take it," he said, grabbing Nico's hand and placing the rare object in his palm. "I want you to have it."

Nico closed his fingers around the pearl, his eyes on Will.

"Thank you," he stammered, pulling his fist to his chest, just as a ripple went through him, making the hairs on his arm stand on end. "But don't say it like that, you're not going anywhere anytime soon, as far as I'm concerned."

Will suddenly stopped chewing. He looked at Nico and could discern nothing from the blank expression the latter was giving him. He slowly set his napkin down and placed his hands on his lap.

"Am I your prisoner or something?" he asked with a weak smile.

Will figured they would eventually have gotten to this point of the conversation; the nature of their relationship and the events that had brought them together over the last few days, however, he had at least hoped it would wait until after he'd satiated himself on seafood.

Nico stared back at him intently, his pupils dilated, as if he were considering how to break it to him gently.

"I think it's pretty much the other way around," he said. He picked up his glass of wine and took a sip, his eyes on Will.

Will swallowed at the unexpected implication. He quickly remembered the first time he had laid eyes on the young man before him, all those weeks ago, and the fact that he'd compared him to what he imagined an angel to look like. He'd quickly become attracted to him, but had just as easily dismissed the idea at the prospect of their separation as soon as the ship berthed. Now, well, now was an entirely different matter. Will could not see a way he could simply break away from his likely captor.

The thought was almost laughable. Other than maybe his face, Nico did not remotely resemble anything that could be considered 'angelical'. The word 'diabolical' came to mind instead, and he was surprisingly warmed at the thought.

"Do something for me?" Nico asked.

"Anything," Will replied.

"Keep this on you for now," Nico said, handing the pearl back to Will, who instantly shook his head and rolled his eyes.

"Do you really hate gifts all that much?" Will asked.

"It would be my pleasure if you kept it. I'll have Fierro set it on a piece of jewelry for you. A necklace or an earring."

"A ring?" Will asked, his eyes on Nico's skull ring.

"I wouldn't recommend it," Nico said, placing the pearl back into Will's hand. Then, he picked up his wine glass and raised it in silent toast.

Nico's lips were tinted red with wine, his Adam's apple bobbing gently up and down as he swallowed.

Will licked his lips. He reached for an oyster and carelessly threw it into his mouth. This time, he bit on something sharp – most definitely not a pearl – and he felt a stab of pain on his tongue.

"Ouch," he said, spitting out a sharp shard of oyster shell and a few droplets of blood.

Nico's eyes widened.

"Cut my tongue –" he began, lifting the napkin to his mouth and wiping off some blood that trickled down his chin.

Nico's glass shattered in his hand from holding it too tightly, then, just as Will opened his mouth to ask if he was okay, Nico launched himself at him, smashing their mouths together.

"Nn," Will moaned in surprise, automatically wrapping his arms around Nico's waist and pulling him closer.

Suddenly, Will felt like he was back onboard the pirate ship, perched precariously over the edge of the deck – the first time he'd felt Nico's mouth on his – just before they fell into the water.

It was like that, only amplified a thousand times.

When Nico's tongue entered his mouth, Will saw sparks behind his eyelids. He could taste the sweetness of the wine and the saltiness of the sea, courtesy of the large number of oysters they had only just consumed.

And just when Will had been about to pull Nico onto his lap, the latter pulled away with a groan.

"I'm sorry," said Nico, falling back on his chair, his fingers over his mouth. He was panting, perhaps only a bit harder than Will himself. "I'm sorry," he repeated. "I don't know what came over me."

Will put his fingers to his lips, feeling for the place where the ghost of Nico's lips still lingered.

Well that pretty much answers the question concerning the nature of our relationship, Will thought with a smile. His eyes followed the hand Nico cast over his forehead to shield his eyes and noticed a few cuts from the shards of the glass that had shattered in his hand.

"Hey," Will said, leaning in close and taking Nico's injured hand in his. He remembered the way Nico had not-so-innocently taken his hand back in Bonifacio, when they had been sharing a meal in the most wonderful fashion possible. The way he had seductively licked his finger still conjured physical emotions in him.

"It's fine," said Nico dismissively, trying to pry his hand away.

"Stay still, there's a bit of glass incrusted in your finger," said Will, his eyes zeroing down on the affected area with surprising ease. He pulled out the minuscule piece of glass and a drop of blood sprouted out of the tip of Nico's index finger. His hands were beautiful for a sea man.

"Will, it's really fine, you don't have to –" Nico stammered, and promptly fell silent as Will lifted his finger into his mouth.

Nico gasped and pulled his hand away forcefully.

"N-no!" he yelled, cradling his injured hand as if it were a precious object. "Will, you can't do that. You can't taste my blood, you don't know what… what might happen."

Will frowned.

"It's just blood, dummy."

"It's not just blood when it's my blood," Nico repeated, his gaze downcast.

"Well, it tasted just like blood," Will added with a smile, loving the glare Nico gave him.

Just then, there was a loud knock on the door. The two of them turned so quickly it was a miracle they didn't pull a muscle.

"Not now, Jules Albert!" Nico yelled.

Will got up from his chair and knelt beside Nico. He was tall enough to only be a few inches below him, and with the way Nico slumped on his chair, they were almost at eye-level.

"I feel like this is all a dream," Will whispered, tugging on Nico's uninjured hand until the latter relented, and placing a kiss on his wrist. "I've always played by the rules, been nice to everyone around me. I wake up with the sun and try to sleep before the moon fully rises. I've never paid for sex or skipped on paying any bills. My life has been nothing more than ordinary, and all this time, I thought I had something pretty good going on. Until I met you, Nico." He placed another kiss on Nico's forearm, just as Nico's hand reached up to Will's ear where a few strands of his long hair had escaped from his ponytail. "I can't explain it, I'm drawn to you, I –"

Just as he spoke, there was another, more insistent knock on the door.

"Master?" said Fierro from the other side.

"Not now, Fierro! I don't wanna hear a peep from any of you right now, understand?" Nico yelled.

Then, another, perhaps only a tad shyer knock. "Second Master?" Alex asked again.

"You heard the man, Alex," Will declared with an indulgent smile.

They turned back to face each other as if nothing had happened.

"I'm a little envious of your life so far. My life has been the exact opposite of that," said Nico, lowering his voice back to a whisper.

With every word, with every passing second, they began inching closer to each other. Will's other hand found Nico's leg, while Nico laid his injured hand on Will's shoulder, slowly, relentlessly, pulling him closer, his fingers going further and further down Will's shoulder blades.

"Although I've never paid for sex either," Nico admitted, and they both laughed.

"Why would you," said Will, leaning in and smelling Nico's neck. "With a face like that."

"Will," Nico whispered. "You should stop."

"Why?" Will whispered back, kissing Nico's palm before perching it on his own shoulder, prompting Nico to grab a fistful of the fabric of his shirt. He placed a hand on Nico's waist and tugged gently. "Every second I spend in your company, I feel like my life grows meaningful. There's this lust inside me, filling me to burst."

"If you don't stop, I won't be able to hold back," said Nico through gritted teeth. He perched his hands on either side of Will's neck, gently thumbing his veins, the rise of his Adam's apple, his chin. He pulled him in just as much as he tried to keep him at bay, almost as if he were trying to maintain a safe but tantalizing distance between them.

"What if I don't want you to hold back?" said Will, now so close to Nico he spoke the words directly into Nico's ear.

"There's about a dozen ghosts that share a mind with me, just so you know," Nico said weakly, his resolve crumbling with every gentle kiss that Will placed on his neck.

"Shall we put on a show for the crew?" Will asked, mildly surprised at his boldness, and finding himself ridiculously turned on by his words. He could feel his blood rushing through his veins in a torrent of lust. It might have been the wine, it might have been the oysters, but all Will knew for sure, is that he wanted Nico, badly, right now.

Nico chuckled softly, his breath coming out strained. "Jules Albert would die all over again. He was there the day I was born. I don't think he could outlive watching me have sex with you, even though he's already d – ah!"

Will opened his mouth wide and closed his teeth over the soft expanse of skin under Nico's ear, making the young Captain moan and tangle his fingers into Will's hair, anchoring himself lest he fell off the chair.

"You really are going to drive me insane," Nico hissed ominously, and just as Will licked the stretch of skin he had just bitten, Nico pulled him to his face and drove his tongue into Will's mouth.

The kiss was wild and wet and bittersweet with the taste of wine and blood, only slightly reminiscent of the taste of metal that had permeated Will's mouth the first time they had kissed, back when Nico's ring had been in the way.

With every tilt of their heads, every languid lick of their tongues, every sharp intake of breath through their noses so as to not break the kiss, their hands began to trail more and more indulgent paths over the other's body.

Nico tugged on Will's shirt so hard the neckline tore, opening so wide it slid down his strong shoulders. Leave it to Will Solace, merchant, to have the beautifully built shoulders of a mason worker. Nico dug his nails into the skin hard enough to leave angry marks.

Will, on the other hand, seemed utterly fixated on Nico's swan-like neck, breaking the kiss only to bite down the aforementioned area, or lick a stretch of skin, only to return to Nico's mouth and wolf him down with growing desperation.

Unable to withstand their position any longer, Nico pushed Will onto the table, right between two large platters of shellfish.

"Ouch," Will complained with a laugh, rolling around to clear some space just as Nico practically pushed the plates onto the floor, each one of them landing with a louder crash than the other. "Get over here," Will said, grabbing Nico from the shirt and pulling him on top of him, Nico's knees landing hard on the table on either side of Will's lap.

Nico didn't even do him the courtesy of replying, he launched himself down on Will the way a wolf would on an injured doe, eating at his mouth while grabbing fistfuls of Will's shirt and tearing the thing in two with one frantic tug.

"Oh my God, yes," Will hissed, reaching up to Nico's sash and untying the knot, then busying himself with the laces of his breeches.

"Impatient, aren't we?" Nico teased, perched over Will, one hand on the table next to Will's ear, the other trailing circles across Will's broad chest.

"All the damn oysters," Will replied, tugging the string that held Nico's breeches up.

Nico pressed his mouth to Will's, their smiles making it hard to kiss.

"I'm going to make you see stars, William Solace," Nico whispered, licking a trail along Will's jawline. "You're going to wish you were – fire?" Nico tensed, his eyes on the door.

"Yes," Will moaned, sliding a hand into Nico's pants. "Fire is good."

"No, Will," Nico interjected, his index and thumb in the process of twisting one of Will's nipples. "Fire! Fire!" he repeated, getting up from the table and stumbling over. "The goddamn ship is on fire!"

Will turned to the door and had to shield his eyes against the impossibly bright, unmistakable orange glow of flames engulfing the deck of the ship and filtering in through the glass panels of the mess hall's front windows.

"Rise!" Nico yelled, lifting his hands above his head. Instantly, a dozen or so ghosts appeared before him.

"Nico!" Will stumbled to his feet, trying to pull his tattered shirt back together and tugging the ends into his sash. "What do we do?"

Jules Albert began to explain in rapid French, Nico nodding quickly, the reflection of the flames licking his dark eyes.

Will couldn't hear what they were saying, he suddenly found the sound of cracking wood and small explosions here and there absolutely deafening. He pressed his palms to his ears and cowered down, feeling like his head would split open any second.

"Will!" said a mumbled voice next to him, then he felt Nico's hands on his wrists, prying his hands away from his ears. "Will, you must listen to me! You must get to the shore, it's not too far off, you can't stay here, and I can't bring you down with the ship."

But Will found he couldn't quite reply. It was as if all his senses had suddenly shut down. The sound was deafening, he could distinctly hear the whines and whimpers of wood and metal being scorched into nothingness. His eyes were on fire, he couldn't possibly open them more than a millimeter. And as he opened his mouth to reply, as he intended to say to Nico that he would stay with him no matter what, only the vaguest of groans came out.

"Fierro!" Nico said, motioning to his still somewhat solid-looking ghost. "Take him, take him now! Take him to land and wait for me! Only you can do this! Save him, don't let him get hurt. That is an order. No matter what, do not let him get hurt!"

Distantly, Will could feel the tips of Nico's fingers trace a quick trail through his hair.

The ghost did not even need to assent, such a straightforward, no nonsense command must be obeyed immediately.

Will was only vaguely aware of what had been said, and he couldn't bring himself to put up much of a fight in the condition he found himself in. Alex tugged him to his feet and began running, Will on tow, towards the glass-paneled back window, the tips of Nico's fingers still hot on the back of Will's neck.

Will had barely any time to shield his eyes with his elbow just as Alex broke through the glass and dove into the sea. Will had braced himself for impact, only to find himself landing softly in the cold waters of the Mediterranean for the second time in two days. Then, to his surprise, he felt a large lump grow between his legs – and not in the good way – until he found himself sitting on the back of a large whale shark.

"What the –" he began, but then he heard a distinctive voice in his head.

"Get to land," said Alex's voice in a strangely cetacean-sounding echo.

"Alex?!" Will asked, holding on to the slippery whale for dear life. "Is that you?"

"Who else?" he replied in the same echo-y voice.

"We need to go back! We need to help Nico!" Will yelled, trying to kick off from the whale and swim back to the ship, but the whale kicked its tailed and wiggled just enough so Will wouldn't be able to slide down.

"I don't want to, but I will put you in my mouth if I have to," the whale-ghost said clearly in Will's mind, effectively stopping Will from squirming.

As the vessel grew smaller and smaller behind them, Will could only look up towards the topmost cabin where they had only just been getting better acquainted with each other, praying to God, any God, all the Gods, that Nico would be safe.

Back on the vessel, Nico stayed by the broken window until he could no longer discern Will in the distance.

"Maitre," said Jules Albert next to him. "Les pirates sont arrivés."

Nico turned towards the deck on fire with murder in his eyes.

"Cockblockers. Take me to them," he hissed.

As they walked out of the mess hall and into the engulfed main deck, his ghosts trailing close behind, Nico raised his ring finger to his mouth.

"I'll have two words with them," he whispered into the metal skull. "Then, we're going down. Be prepared."

The entire vessel seemed to whine and groan in response.

"Big Bear, Jaws," said Nico in a commanding voice. "You know what to do. The rest of you, to your posts. Nobody boards my ship without my permission."

The two ghosts disappeared from view, floating up through the ceiling, while the rest of the ghostly crew floated down through the floor. Only Jules Albert remained by Nico's side.

Nico glanced sideways at his valet with a smirk.

"You're not scared, are you?" Nico teased, taking the sword the ghost offered him.

"Je ressens quelque chose…" Jules Albert replied, his eyes wider than usual.

"Save it for group therapy," said the Captain, kicking the door open and walking onto the deck.

The mast was engulfed in fire, as were the sails. Fortunately, Nico knew the rest of the ship wouldn't be greatly affected, being permanently damp from being berthed underwater most of the time.

This was done with the sole purpose of getting his attention.

Well, now they had it.

"Show yourselves!" Nico yelled, brandishing his sword, feeling like some of his old strength had returned to him, if only because of the adrenalin currently coursing through his veins. The fools stood no chance against the Ghost Captain.

Just as Nico took a few steps forward, he discerned a lone silhouette veiled from his eyes by a curtain of fire.

"Nico?" came a female voice – an utterly disarming voice that Nico recognized. His eyes grew large with fear, his face paled of all color.

"Nico, it's me," the voice repeated, walking with careful steps towards him from the side of the deck, leaning on the railing so as to avoid the large tongues of flame currently licking the mast in the middle.

Nico almost dropped his sword.

"H-Hazel?" he asked, hating the sound of concern in his voice. "Hazel, is that you?"

He stumbled towards the railing, unsure whether to run to her side or hide.

"Yes, brother!" she cried back, her arm over her face to shield herself from the fire.

"Why are you here? D-Did you do this? Did you set my ship on fire?" Nico asked, taking a closer step to his sister.

"It wasn't me! The birds did that, those awful birds, they dropped the vases with gunpowder. There!" she cried, pointing upwards to where two colorful birds circled the area, like vultures sensing death.

Nico looked up and then back to his sister. His other sister.

"Hazel, why are you here?" he yelled desperately.

"I came to warn you," she said ominously.

For a second, Nico wondered if he wasn't looking at Hazel's ghost instead. He hadn't heard from her in years, not since that last time they'd seen each other back when Hazel was just a little girl. But no, she couldn't be dead, because Nico hadn't summoned her. That tiny, terrified figure was most definitely the real Hazel.

"Warn me? You call this a warning?" Nico yelled, sounding slightly hysterical now. "This is not a warning, Hazel. This is a downright threat! Why are you here? No, how are you here? How did you board my vessel? And just what the actual fuck is up with those birds?!"

They were only a few steps away from each other now, there was no need to scream, but Nico felt like his voice wouldn't work if he tried turning down the volume.

"Nico, please," she said. "You have to trust me. You have to trust me!"

"Trust you on what?" Nico yelled. How he hated the word trust.

But he didn't need an answer to the question. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he felt a hand close in around his neck from behind. Nico jumped and tried to turn around, but another hand wrapped quickly around his waist, pinning his arms together.

Nico looked down, but there was no one there.

"How –" he stammered. Then, the distinctive sound of metal being drawn from its sheath reached his ears, and a very real-looking blade appeared before him, just shy of slicing his throat open.

"Hello, Nico," said an extremely familiar, husky voice into his ear, making Nico's every last hair stand on end.

"Percy," Nico hissed back. He turned his face as much as he could without slicing his own throat with the knife held against his throat and he almost yelled when he saw Percy materialize before his very eyes. Being used to ghosts, Nico wasn't much surprised by sudden apparitions.

But Percy wasn't a ghost.

Percy wasn't dead.

Yet Percy appeared and reappeared before him, flickering on and off like an oil lamp with a damp wick.

Percy was undoubtedly invisible, if intermittently, the way Nico was only too familiar with.

Fury began to rise within him as if he had never felt in his life, not since he had first heard of his sister's death. Without fully meaning to conjure them to his side, his entire ghostly crew appeared around him, throwing threatening glances at the man who held a blade to their Master's sword.

Hazel's horrified scream reached his ears and made him stiffen further in Percy's arms.

"You were right! Percy, you were right!" she yelled shrilly, and if anything, her giving Percy any sort of verbal acknowledgement made Nico's blood boil in his veins.

"You," Nico hissed at his sister, who stared back at him with terror in her eyes. "You've been helping him, all along, you've been helping him?!"

"Now, now, Nico," said Percy sounding unnervingly calm. "Hazel's only trying to look after you, as am I. We're childhood sweethearts, after all."

Nico was apoplectic with rage. He couldn't believe Percy would throw something like that to him in this situation. Distantly, he thought of Will.

"Whatever power you think you possess," Nico managed to hiss, his ring hand making such a tight fist he could feel his fingers cramping up, "you are no match for me, Percy Jackson. I see what you're doing here. You've brought Hazel along hoping I wouldn't simply blow up this ship, you and I be damned! You knew I wouldn't harm my own sister."

Percy had the gall to laugh.

"You know me too well, little Nico," he said, and to Nico's surprise, Percy put the blade down. "Or should I say, I know you too well?"

Nico quickly stepped away from him, joining the circle of ghosts that surrounded the intruders onboard his pirate ship.

Percy still flickered on and off, but while he had been mostly invisible a few seconds ago, now he remained mostly opaque, solid even.

He was still handsome. After all these years of harboring a deep-rooted hatred for Percy Jackson, Nico couldn't deny the fact that his childhood friend still retained most of his good looks – if anything, he looked even more handsome now, albeit on the withered side.

Utter madness, a murderous past and a crusty, unhealthy complexion seemed to be the right look for him.

"Any last words?" said Nico, taking another sword offered to him by Jaws, the ghost to his immediate left.

Percy smiled insolently.

"Not words exactly," he said, and with that, he spat out something into his hand. The minute the object left his mouth, Percy Jackson regained his regular composition. He was one hundred percent human again.

Nico's eyes widened so much they almost popped out of their sockets. His eyes zeroed in on the little figurine Percy held up for him to see.

He recognized it instantly.

"H-How?" he stammered, dropping his sword for the second time that day.

It was the tiny figurine of a silver pirate that had belonged to his sister. It was in fact, so much more than that.

Nico raised a finger, pointing at the object in Percy's hand. "Where did you get that?" he asked, his nostrils flaring.

"Will you let me tell you why I'm here, Nico?" Percy asked, and his voice was pleading, gentle.

Nico trembled from head to foot. Images of them as children clouded his mind.

He was a young child, standing on tiptoes in front of the shop of a renowned craftsman in Venice, trying to look at the beautiful little figurines on display. His sister suddenly stood behind him, lifting him off the floor so he could see better. Then a few days later, she'd come back home panting like an injured animal, holding one of the figurines in her hand.

"Whoah! Where did you find the money to buy it? Did Mama or Papa give it to you?" Little Nico asked.

His sister had smiled slyly. "I stole it," she said conspiratorially.

"Wow," Nico was in awe.

His head felt like it would split in two any second now. Percy remained standing on the same spot, but he now seemed to swim before him, his image distorted by Nico's own recollections.

"Percy! Percy, wait for me!" yelled little Nico, trailing behind Percy Jackson and Jason Grace, his only playmates onboard their fathers' ship.

"Try to catch up, Nico!"

"Yeah, you can do it, we're already going slow for you to catch up!"

"STOP!" Nico yelled, covering his ears with his hands.

"Brother," pleaded Hazel's voice from somewhere far, far away, even though she stood only a few feet away from him. "Trust me, just trust me! Listen to Percy!"

"NO!" Nico yelled again, falling to his knees.

"Nico!" Percy bellowed, mustering all the authority of a seasoned pirate captain. "I know about the curse! I know you carry it within you!"

"Don't -!" Nico screamed, and his ghosts closed around him protectively. He looked up with an almighty effort. He could still see Percy and Hazel just before him through the vaporous bodies of his crew.

Then another memory hit him like a ton of bricks.

"Your sister is gone. She's left with that… that boy. She wasn't looking all that well, Nico. But she asked that you trust her – trust them."

"I don't want to trust her! I want her to come back!"

"You are still too young to understand, and hopefully, you won't have to, either. She's gone to fulfill her destiny. Methinks she might succeed. If she follows the instructions."

"I don't understand!"

"You won't have to, if she succeeds."

"Father, please!"

"Trust me. Trust her. Trust them."

"Trust me, Nico!" Percy yelled. "You must relinquish the object! It's the only way! If you won't give it to me, then give it to Hazel! Your blood also runs in her, but hers is pure!"

"STOP!" Nico yelled, his throat going hoarse with the effort.

"I can see how it's affecting you, I can see you are dying, too," said Percy, and for someone who was only just screaming a second ago, his voice sounded exceedingly gentle, understanding, brother-like.

"You don't know anything!" Nico yelled back.

"I know you've got Angelica's curse Nico! I know you do, because so did Bianca!"

"DON'T YOU DARE -!" Nico screamed, cradling his head between his knees.

The ship groaned and the mast cracked so loudly everyone but the ghosts jumped. Within seconds, the entire thing came tumbling over, falling directly between Percy and Hazel, and Nico and his ghosts, splitting them apart like a fault line.

The fire had largely gone out, now mostly smoke billowed across the deck. Hazel and Percy began to cough violently, shielding their noses with their shirts, but Nico's ghosts kept the smoke away from him like a protective shield.

For a few seconds, there was nothing but the sound of Percy and Hazel's coughing and the smashing of waves against the hull of the ship.

Angelica's curse

I know you have it, because so did Bianca

You must relinquish the object

"Is that why you killed her?" Nico asked, getting back to his feet. His skin began to smoke, but unlike the smoke that billowed out of the charred mast, the tongues of smoke that surrounded him were almost luminescent, black, silver and blue. He began to walk towards Percy, and the ship shook with every step he took.

"N-Nico?" Percy stammered, sounding nervous for the first time. "Nico, listen to me –"

"Is that why you killed her?" Nico repeated, his voice brittle and barely above a whisper. The ship groaned just as the banister on Percy's side of the ship fell back into the sea as if it had been blown apart by an invisible cannonball, all the while the dark flames around Nico grew taller.

"Nico, stop!" yelled Hazel, losing her balance and landing on her knees.

Nico paid her no mind.

"IS THAT WHY YOU KILLED MY SISTER?!" Nico bellowed, and the ship groaned louder than ever, a crack appearing in the middle.

"Nico, I can't swim!" Hazel pleaded. She crawled her way towards Percy and held onto his leg as if it were a buoy.

"Nico, stop this! You're scaring your sister!"

"MY SISTER IS DEAD!" Nico bellowed. "You killed her! FOR THAT!" He pointed at the figurine in Percy's hand, and the entire ship came apart. Percy and Hazel slid into the middle of the ship that tipped forward into the sea.

"Nico, no!" yelled Percy, his voice swallowed by Hazel's scream of horror as they both disappeared into the dark water.

Nico managed to step back onto the remaining banister on his side of the ship just on time, before the ship tipped him into the water.

With almost inhuman calm, Nico raised his ring to his lips.

"Now, Angelica," he said, his voice raw.

Then the ship began to sink, not the way the other half had done – the half containing Percy and Hazel – but more like a sack of rocks would, steadily level with the water. Nico put his ring in his mouth just as his half of the ship went underwater. In the depths of the sea, where Nico's eyes were best accustomed to the darkness, he could see no trace of Percy or Hazel, only a trail of bubbles his own ghostly ship left behind as it plunged deeper into the Mediterranean and headed towards land.

Will and Alex the whale reached the shore without complications. Will got off the animal and began taking unsteady steps towards the beach, his tattered shirt and breeches sticking to his body uncomfortably.

He threw himself on the sand, face-up, panting as if it had been him doing all the swimming. His heart was beating out of his chest, and he couldn't explain why.

"I think I'm having a heart attack," he said, placing a hand over where his heart would be.

Alex had turned back into a solid-looking human, imitating Will by throwing himself on the sand next to him, even going as far as raising his chest up and down in mock-imitation of rapid human breathing.

Will raised an eyebrow at him.

"Are you making fun of me?" he asked.

Alex shrugged. "Just trying to look alive," he replied.

Will decided to ignore him. He looked towards the horizon, but his new amazing eyes could discern nothing through the darkness. He had figured a ship on fire would be hard to miss, but one, he hoped Nico had been able to put out the fire, and two, he hoped Nico had been able to put out the fire.

He threw himself back on the sand. His heart still beat like mad, but he began to measure his breaths and soon enough, it was entirely back to normal.

"Alex?" Will asked with a sudden burst of inspiration.

"Yes, lesser Master?"

Will rolled his eyes. "Just call me Will," he said.

"Okay, Will."

"Do you think you could go check on Nico for me? You don't have to be a whale anymore, I'm just thinking, you're a ghost, you can move through walls. Can't you just appear at Nico's side?" he asked hopefully.

"No," Alex replied quickly. "I mean, yes. But, no. My orders are to stay with you and keep you safe."

"Yes, but –" Will added, but promptly fell silent.

He had been told by Alex he could command him to do as he wanted, so long as it didn't go against a direct order from his original master.

So, they were stuck there.

"Fine," said Will, turning his head to his right and facing his solid ghost. "Tell me what happened before the fire."

Alex did, and that's how Will came to know about the tropical birds of doom, the small dinghy that rowed up to the Charon in the darkness, and the two figures that boarded. He assured Will they had gone to inform their Captain as soon as the intruders were detected, but they were told not to bother him, and they could not disobey a direct order. They stood idly by as they were boarded by enemy Pirates.

"One of them is michomitl," Alex had said. "Like you."

"I don't know what that means," Will confessed. "You've called me that before, though. What does it mean?"

"Fish bones," Alex replied, and Will decided to, again, ignore the comment.

"I just wish Nico made it out alright," Will whispered. "I wish I knew."

"Master is alive," Alex said, and Will sat straight up.

"Don't tell me you could have sensed him all along and you didn't tell me?" Will asked in outrage. "Honestly, Alex, here I am, evidently besides myself wondering if he's safe, and you've known all along and you didn't have the tact to tell me –"

"Master is alive," Alex repeated, pointing towards the surf. "He is there."

Will turned so fast his wet hair smacked him on the face.

"Nico!" he said, getting up and running to him.

Nico might not have been dead, but he certainly didn't look very much alive. When Will got to his side, Nico's skin was pale as death – even paler than usual – and distinctively clammy. His eyes were hollow, as if there was no soul behind those dark irises.

"Come," Will beckoned, putting one of Nico's arms around his shoulders and helping him out onto the beach.

It was a struggle, but as soon as they were out of the water, they both stumbled onto the sand. Will made to busy himself, check Nico's vitals, check for injuries, but to his surprise, Nico merely held on to him, his arms around Will's waist, his grip painfully tight.

"Uh, Nico?" Will asked unsurely, just as Nico's frame began to shiver uncontrollably. Nico shimmied closer to Will.

"She's dead," Nico whimpered, and with a start, Will realized he was crying.

"Who's dead?" Will asked, startled.

Nico couldn't bring himself to reply, his entire frame shook with every sob, which in turn sounded more like small bones rattling inside a wooden barrel. He might have been laughing, for all Will knew.

"I got you," Will said the only thing that came to his mind. He put a hand on Nico's back and began rubbing the area consolingly. "I'm here, I got you."

"I killed her, Will," Nico said after a while. "I killed my own sister."

"What?" Will stammered, looking down at Nico, trying to pry his hair out of his face. "Your sister? Wait, was she the one who started the fire?"

"I can't, I can't – I can't," Nico stammered, seemingly hyperventilating, unable to string together a single sentence. His voice was weak, his heart was pounding so loudly Will could hear it with his magnificent new ears.

"Calm down, calm down. Alex? Is there something you can do? Is there anything you know could help him?" Will asked a bit desperately.

Alex-Fierro stood up, looking down at his two masters.

"Turtle soup?" he asked.

"No! I – I don't know, can you do that fast? Will it really help?" Will asked desperately.

"I will need to dive back into the sea and scout the area for shipwrecks with pots and utensils, then go fishing. Catfish are good. Or maybe turtles. Then the fire, that's the tricky part –"

"So, not that!" Will yelled. "Anything else you can do? Anything?"

"Anything?" the ghost asked.

"Anything!" Will repeated.

Alex took a few steps forward and placed his hand on Nico's forehead. In a flash, Nico's whimpering stopped, quickly followed by gentle snoring. Just as Will opened his mouth to complain that that wasn't what he meant, Alex did the same thing on Will, placing a hand on his forehead, and Will knew no more as he drifted to sleep.

A few miles away, Percy hauled Hazel over his shoulders, where Frank and Leo pulled her onto a dinghy just within reach of the Argo II.

"Dang, Captain," said Leo, reaching out a hand to Percy. "You should have let us come with you on this one. Looks like the little weasel did a number on the two of you."

Percy groaned in response as he hauled himself onboard the dinghy.

"I forbid you to speak again today," Percy commanded, and Leo promptly closed his mouth as if he had been a ghost under his service.

Frank was smarter than that. He wrapped a blanket around Hazel's shivering shoulders, offering a second one to his Captain, who quickly snatched it and began to wipe his face.

"Get us back to the ship," Percy ordered, and both Leo and Frank began to row quicker.

Once back onboard the Argo II, Percy told Frank to take Hazel to the sick bay and look after her, then told the rest of the crew not to disturb him for the rest of the night under any circumstances.

Nobody argued.

When Percy entered his cabin, his boots leaving wet footprints across the floor, his clothes slapping against his skin with every step he took, he found Annabeth waiting for him on the couch.

"Let me guess," she said, barely looking up at him. "Your plan didn't work?"

Percy threw her a dry glance as he began to undress, throwing his shirt on the floor with a bit more force than was strictly necessary.

"You don't have to look so smug about it," he said.

She smiled, and her face lit up as she did so. Very few people got to see Annabeth Chase smile.

"You should have listened to me," she half-chanted. "My plan was better. But no, you just had to go after him and try to make him see sense." She got up and stood behind Percy, wrapping her arms around his waist and untying the knot of his breeches.

Percy took a deep breath.

"He's changed, Annie," he said. "He's not the same Nico I remember."

Annabeth shrugged, tugging down Percy's breeches. He kicked them off his feet and stood naked in front of the window. Annabeth's warm hands caressed his chest and abdomen, her cheek between his shoulder blades.

"By the looks of it, he's exactly the same Nico you remember. Are we gonna do it my way, now?" she asked, planting a kiss on Percy's back.

Percy laced their fingers together, then drew Annabeth's hand further down, wrapping her fingers around his limp cock.

"Are you sure he is to be trusted?" he asked.

She began to stroke him languidly.

"If by that you mean, can we trust him to do exactly as we expect, then yes. Because what we expect him to do is not necessarily what we tell him we want him to do," she replied.

Percy frowned. "I like it better when you just show me the sketches."

"Seaweed brain," she laughed light-heartedly.

They stood there in silence, Percy leaning back into her, feeling Annabeth's breasts on his back, enjoying her gentle ministrations.

"Are you sure about the map?" she asked, nodding towards a rolled-up piece of ancient parchment inside a clear wine bottle displayed in one of the shelves directly adjacent to the Captain's bed. "Will he really come looking for it, when the time comes?"

Percy nodded, then sighed in pleasure.

"Did you see him onboard? The merchant?" she asked, drawing her thumb over the tip of Percy's growing erection.

"No," he replied. "He wasn't there."

"Good," she said, giving him a hard tug that made him hiss with pleasure. She knew how to do that very well, although each day she took longer and longer to make him harden up for her. "That means he'll be on land. The better for us."

"We've seen what Nico can do on land, too. I'm telling you Annie, the little creep is unstoppable."

"Not if all goes according to planned," she assured him. It had taken more than a few of her best moves, but he was fully erect in her hand now. "You know where he's going, after all."

"I suspect where he's going, especially now. He barely let me get a few words in!" Percy complained, turning around and poking Annabeth with his cock. He began to busy himself disrobing her, taking her shirt off and tossing it on the floor.

"Did you taunt him?" she asked.

Percy groaned. "A little," he confessed.

"And did you at least see what his item was?" she asked as she kicked off her boots and breeches.

"I couldn't very damn well see anything, he was surrounded by bloody ghosts half of the time, and then he burst into fucking flames like… Annabeth, he was unlike anything I'd ever seen before. Not even Bianca –"

"Don't mention that name in my presence, please," Annabeth threatened, pulling Percy towards the bed and pushing him down forcefully. She walked to the desk and blew out the single candle that illuminated the room.

When she got in the bed, Percy quickly rolled on top of her.

"He's dying," he whispered, spreading her legs apart and kissing her collarbone.

"Of course he is," she said, her hands on the small of Percy's back.

"We must hurry," Percy added, pushing inside her with a groan of pleasure.

"Aye, aye, Captain," she said, and none of them spoke again for the rest of the night.

The next morning, the sun rose beautifully over the Mediterranean Sea, illuminating the white sands of the East coast of Sardinia.

Alex Fierro, newly christened solid ghost pertaining to both Nico di Angelo and William Solace, stood idly by the sleeping forms of his masters. He looked down at his human-like hands, and in his distantly human mind, he realized he did not feel like being a man anymore.

His 'lesser Master' William Solace had given her instructions to be more human, and reading between the lines, Alex decided to do just that. He concentrated in his own power, repeating his Master's words in his mind, and suddenly, he wasn't a he anymore.

She was a woman.

She smiled contentedly, or as contentedly as a ghost in her position could. She didn't feel the rush of excitement that still lingered in her memories from the time she had been alive – at the time he had been resolutely male – but if anything, she felt more alive than she had ever done, including all the time before her death, back in the great Tenochtitlan.

She stood there, staring intently at the sun for what could have been hours, until she sensed her Masters stirring.

Her attention turned to them for a few minutes, until her inhuman ears caught something in the air, coming to them inland from the north.

Alex turned, impassively, and spotted a small four-legged-beast-pulled-cart that drew closer and closer to them, until she could discern the figure of a young man.

It was only after an entire hour had elapsed, the sun well perched over the sky, when the young man on the cart spotted them back. Alex could discern his perplexed gaze followed by concern. He began to scream, waving an arm over his head.

"Oi!" he yelled, getting off his beast and running in their direction. "Oi! Vous – vous – vous – oh, suck it, do you guys need any help out there?"

The young man, Alex noticed, had long blond hair, just like her lesser Master, only resolutely straight and falling over his eyes, a straw hat perched on top of his head.

"Hello," Alex said, remembering to move her chest up and down so as to appear like a breathing, living person.

The young man halted once he was within speaking distance to Alex. He stared at her as if she were a ghost – which of course, she was – but he did so unintentionally, seemingly mesmerized by her presence.

"My lady," he said. "Are you alright?" His gaze suddenly landed on Alex's two Masters, the main one and the lesser one. "Oh my God, are your friends alive? Did you have an accident? Do you need any help?"

Alex took in one question at a time.

"Yes. Yes, maybe. I don't know," she replied.

The young man frowned.

"So, was that a yes, we need your help, or –" the young man asked.

Alex took a second to contemplate her situation.

Her Masters were currently under a sleeping spell, they would wake up eventually, sure, and she could also wake them up magically, but she had the feeling Captain wouldn't be too pleased to let an intruder into their secret. She might have to sword-fight the boy in the straw hat later, and she did not much want to ruin her dress.

On the other hand, her lesser Master had explicitly ordered her to be more like a human.

That entailed making human decisions on the spot.

What would she have done when he had been alive?

Eat him, she replied in her mind. Eat his heart and take in his strength.

She shook her head. She had a feeling her Masters would disapprove and accuse her of taking too many liberties, as they often did.

"We need help," Alex Fierro finally replied.

"Okay!" the young living man said. "You stay right there, milady. I will carry these men onto my cart. My mule is the strongest in the land, she can pull whatever load I want."

Alex had a sudden sense of foreboding. Not of anything unnatural, as most humans would, but of what her Masters would expect her to explain, once they woke up.

"Why are you helping us, young living human?" she asked.

"Living human?" he asked. "Don't call me that, please. It makes me feel superstitious. And well, why the heck not? You guys look like you've been boarded by a pirate ship, just look at your buddies here, cuddling together like a kraken on my great-great grandfather's longship. Never mind that, old local legend. Besides, doesn't hurt to be friendly, right? You guys need help, I got a mule and a cart, it might turn out for the best!"

Alex took a mental note of everything the young man said.

"So, you're an idiot," she said seriously.

"No need to be snarky," he said. "I'll get the big one first, then I'll come back for the little one. You can come with me, I'll let you sit on my mule!"

Alex nodded, deciding it was best not to intervene as the young man threw her lesser Master over his shoulders like a sack of oysters and stumbled back to his cart, so long as he wasn't injured, as were her orders.

"I'm Magnus, by the way," the man said, throwing William Solace over the back of the cart, directly on top of a pile of freshly-caught fish.

"And what is your name?" Alex asked at the mule.

Magnus stared at her.

"You're probably the only person polite enough to ask, her name is Jack. I know, I know, Jack is not a proper girly name for a mule, but what can I say? She seems to like it," Magnus replied.

Alex smiled, and it felt strangely familiar, like something she was used to doing maybe a few centuries ago.

"Hello, Jack. I'm Alex-Fierro," she said, petting the creature.

The mule whinnied back.

"She likes you," Magnus declared with a smile, just as he returned with Nico over his shoulder, throwing him unceremoniously next to Will, both of them snoring loudly and frowning at the sun on their faces. "Damn, your buddies can sleep through pretty much anything, can't they?"

Alex perched herself on top of the mule, and the strangeness of the corporeal act rippled through her.

"Yes," she answered, petting Jack's pelt. "They sleep a lot."

"Well, the farm is not too far off. We've got extra berths and plenty of food, we're a cheese farm after all, so expect a warm welcome and lots of cheese, I guess."

"What is cheese? I don't know this word," said Alex, making Magnus frown.

"Uh," he stammered, looking at Alex-Fierro as if she were some strange being from another world, which of course, she was.

Behind them, Will and Nico rolled around freshly caught catfish. As if pulled by magnets, Will's fingers found Nico's hand, and they laced their fingers together, just as the cart started ahead, taking them further and further inland.