He was in a hotel, an all too familiar lobby. Graceful marble columns stretched what seemed like miles above him. Delicate couches and leather armchairs were dotted throughout the hall. A gold chandelier hung from the ceiling, casting the room in a warm glow. And Nico saw himself, two years younger, standing with his sister and… his mother.

Nico lurched forward, reaching for her hand. His hand went straight through her. His heart wrenched. A dream. She wasn't really there, she couldn't see him, he couldn't touch her. She was so close, and yet so impossibly beyond his reach.

Nico remembered the scene clearly. They had been in Washington D.C., only days before his unexpected relocation to Italy with Bianca. They had been intending to meet his grandfather for dinner that evening and Mama had dressed Nico and Bianca in their best clothes for the occasion.

His mother wore a black dress, gloves, and a black veiled hat. Bianca, similarly, wore a navy blue dress, short to her knees, and ruffled around her shoulders. His younger self wore an uncomfortable jacket, short trousers, and shoes that had left red marks on the backs of his ankles.

As he watched, his mama led the children closer to the door, only to freeze midway. Hades. He stood from an armchair, dropping his newspaper down on the seat carelessly. He was large and his manner more than a little foreboding, in a black pinstriped suit.

Mama let out a surprised noise, and her face broke into a smile, so much like Bianca's. Nico watched as his younger self and Bianca clung to their father's hands and hugged him as high as they could reach. A visit from their Papa was rare and often accompanied by gifts and foreign sweets.

He permitted their attentions only for a few moments before he apparently grew tired of them. Seemingly from nowhere, he withdrew a box immaculately wrapped in gold, tied with purple ribbon, long but small enough to be carried in one hand. He pressed it into Bianca's hands almost unthinkingly and she beamed.

"Chocolates," he said, "from Switzerland. Share with your brother."

Bianca nodded seriously, then took off at a run. The younger Nico yelled out a laugh and followed her. They scampered around the room, chasing each other in and out of the columns.

"You spoil them," Mama noted, watching her children play with some amusement. Her voice was gentle, delicate, just as Nico remembered it.

"I see no reason not to," said Hades.

As the children played, Hades drew Mama to a side couch. Nico edged closer to them, still self-conscious despite the knowledge that they couldn't see him.

"Please, my dear," he said, leaning forward in earnest. "You must come to the Underworld. I don't care what Persephone thinks! I can keep you safe there." He was leaning toward her, using his hands agitatedly as he spoke.

"No, my love, we have discussed this. Raise our children in the land of the dead? I will not do this."

"Maria, listen to me. The war in Europe has turned the other gods against me. A prophecy has been made. My children are no longer safe. Poseidon and Zeus have forced me into an agreement. None of us are to have demigod children ever again."

"But you already have Nico and Bianca. Surely–"

"No! The prophecy warns of a child who turns sixteen. Zeus has decreed that the children I currently have must be turned over to Camp Half-Blood for proper training, but I know what he means. At best they'll be watched, imprisoned, turned against their father. Even more likely, he will not take a chance. He won't allow my demigod children to reach sixteen. He'll find a way to destroy them, and I won't risk that!"

"Certamente," Maria said. "We will stay together. Zeus is un imbecile."

Hades glanced nervously at the ceiling. "Maria, please. I told you, Zeus gave me a deadline of last week to turn over the children. His wrath will be horrible, and I cannot hide you forever. As long as you are with the children, you are in danger too."

Maria smiled. "You are a god, my love. You will protect us. But I will not take Nico and Bianca to the Underworld."

Hades wrung his hands. "Then, there is another option. I know a place in the desert where time stands still. I could send the children there, just for a while, for their own safety, and we could be together. I will build you a golden palace by the Styx."

Maria laughed gently. "You are a kind man, my love. A generous man. The other gods should see you as I do, and they would not fear you so. But Nico and Bianca need their mother. Besides, they are only children. The gods wouldn't really hurt them."

"You don't know my family," Hades said darkly. "Please, Maria, I can't lose you."

She touched his lips with her fingers. "You will not lose me. Wait for me while I get my purse. Watch the children."

She kissed the Lord of the Dead and rose from the sofa. Hades watched her walk upstairs as if her every step away caused him pain.

A moment later, he tensed. The children stopped playing as if they sensed something too.

"No!" Hades said. But even his godly powers were too slow. He only had time to erect a wall of black energy around the children before the hotel exploded. Nico screamed.

The hotel was reduced to ruins. Fires crackled and spat sparks around the room. Lightning flashed across the sky, and thunder rumbled. His father, the height of everything Nico could call strength, knelt in the ruins. In his arms, he cradled the broken form of Nico's mother. Little Nico and Bianca stared at their mother uncomprehendingly.

The package of chocolates forgotten on the floor, the box flattened by fallen masonry, its contents reduced to smears. The creature Alecto appeared behind them, hissing and flapping her leathery wings. His younger self didn't seem to notice her.

"Zeus!" Hades shook his fist at the sky. "I will crush you for this! I will bring her back!"

"My lord, you cannot," Alecto warned. "You of all immortals must respect the laws of death."

Hades glowed with rage.

"Take them," he told Alecto, choking back a sob. "Hide them in Europe. They have a mortal family. Zeus cannot find them there."

"As you wish, my lord," Alecto said. "And the woman's body?"

"Take her as well," he said bitterly. "Give her the ancient rites."

Alecto, the children, and Maria's body dissolved into shadows, leaving Hades alone in the ruins. And Nico woke with a sob.

Over the following two weeks, Nico fell into the routine of camp. His mornings started early. He woke before the conch shell to Chiron calling him downstairs. He was not fond of mornings and never had been but Chiron was much more tolerant of his slouching, early morning petulance than his teachers from St. Dismas' had been.

They would begin the day with discussions of the gods in English, and Nico found himself doubly challenged both by his relatively limited vocabulary and the strangeness of the Greek gods in comparison to his visits to Sunday mass.

He found that Chiron was a kind teacher, and had yet to bring out a ruler or cane when Nico grumbled about the early hour or his as yet un-breakfasted stomach.

Then they would move to breakfast in the dining pavilion. Each morning Nico would join the campers at the Hermes table and each morning they would squeeze tightly together so as to put an additional foot of space between him and the nearest camper. Their rejection stung, but he weathered it without too much complaint. It was only for a meal after all.

After breakfast he would join Chiron on the porch of the Big House for more language lessons. They mainly studied Ancient Greek, which Nico found simpler to speak than English and much easier to read than Italian. Latin had come to him more easily as well and he found that many of the patterns of Latin could be applied to Greek. After only a few mornings Nico could skim through a stanza or two of Homer's Odyssey without much difficulty.

He learned his weaponry quickly thanks to time sitting in the armoury with a reluctant James polishing armour and swords, and generally learning to care for various weapons.

His morning combat training was privately taught by Chiron. None of the other campers seemed to trust Nico with a weapon and made a habit of clearing the training fields when he approached. He and Chiron rotated through a training program of archery, javelin, and sword techniques.

Javelin was, by far, Nico's weakest point. He didn't possess the muscles to heft and throw one high or far. His arms and stature were short and his range of motion limited, an obstacle only slightly mitigated by Chiron's supply of undersized weapons for the younger campers to learn with.

Archery was better, though not by much. After the first day, he could at least be certain of hitting the target. A bullseye was another matter entirely. His arrows would hit in erratic patterns, never grouping together at the central ring as Chiron's did.

In swordplay he faired considerably better. Chiron started him by teaching him his stance, how to hold the blade steady, and the first basic strikes. He knew he wasn't exactly a protégé; that much was plain from the twinkle of amusement in Chiron's eyes whenever he tripped or fumbled with his sword. But he continued to improve and by their third attempt he felt much more confident with a sword in hand.

"Better, better," Chiron said proudly, as Nico slashed at the training dummy. "Very good, Nico. Raise your guard… there. Now attack."

They had been working for almost an hour already and Nico was near exhausted. Chiron, while kind, was a relentless task master. Nico's hair was damp with sweat and his feet ached from the constant work. It was almost noon, their final training session of the morning, and Nico was looking forward to lunch and the change of clothes waiting for him back at the Big House.

"Alright," Chiron said finally, "that is enough for today."

Nico lowered his celestial bronze practice sword, breathing hard.

All of the weapons at Camp Half-Blood were made of Celestial Bronze. The metal was favoured by demigods the world over and were entirely harmless to mortals.

Despite his improvements, it didn't feel quite right in his hands.

"Good work, Nico," said Chiron. "Clean yourself up for lunch, I have some business to take care of." Nico nodded and rolled his sore shoulders as Chiron trotted off in the direction of the cabins.

He approached the target they had used for their previous session and started tugging at the arrows. He had discovered during his first session that it was harder than it looked. Standing to the side of the target, he braced himself with one hand and pulled. One arrow, two arrows, three, four–

"What do we have here?"

Nico looked up. Peter Stowe, son of Aphrodite. He leaned against the target with his arms folded, casual as could be. Peter had a square jaw, perfectly straight teeth, and brown eyes and hair. Nico had seen him before with Mary from the Hermes cabin. He hadn't expected a son of Aphrodite to be so adept at combat but, paired with Mary, daughter of Hermes, Peter was vicious in the arena.

"Just cleaning up," Nico mumbled, pulling out another arrow.

"What are you doing, flaunting that you're a Hades kid? Think it makes you special? You're gonna get yourself into trouble there. With your funny little accent and a name like 'di Angelo', it's pretty clear you're ginzo too. My brother died overseas, you know. Fighting your kind. What do you think about that?"

"My kind? I don't understand. What do you–"

"The Italians, the Germans. Your half-siblings. The usual psychopaths your father spawns. Just. Like. You." He punctuated each word with a hard poke in Nico's chest. Nico staggered a few steps backwards under the pressure. "They're the reason all this is happening. You know where my father is? He's out there in the trenches. Fighting against people like you."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Nico insisted, taking another step back. "I'm not a part of this. I lived in America–"

Peter towered over him. The meagre gap between their ages seemed so much larger with the considerable height difference.

"I don't care where you grew up," Peter hissed. He shoved Nico hard in the chest so his back slammed into the centre of the target. "That doesn't change the fact that you are one of them."

"Come on, Peter! There's lunch!"

Nico looked past Peter. Two of Peter's friends stood at the edge of the volleyball court. Peter cast them a quick glance before turning his attention back to Nico.

"This isn't over."

And he left. Leaving Nico, heart still pounding, leaning against the target, and more lost than he had felt since arriving at Camp.

It was over his own lunch that Nico asked the important question. He was sitting across from Chiron at the kitchen table. The chairs were comfortably plush with blue and white striped cushions tied to the wooden slatted back.

"What's happening?" Nico asked, taking another spoonful of soup. "With the war?"

Chiron shifted awkwardly in his chair and cleared his throat, setting his mug down on the table. "There are two groups in the war. The Allies and the Axis Powers. The Allies, predominantly western countries, are lead by children of Zeus and Poseidon. Even Phillip aspires to a leadership position in the war."

Nico felt his ears warm. The son of Zeus was his latest fixation. The way his dark hair fell across his forehead. His almost luminously bright blue eyes.

And then…

The penny, and his stomach, dropped. It finally made sense to him what Peter had said. And if that was actually true, there was no way that Phillip would even look at him.

"Your half-siblings," Chiron continued, "other children of Hades, largely lead the Axis Powers. There is a… tension between the brothers, to say the least, at the best of times. Now it is even more so."

"Whose side are we on?"

"I'm not sure I know what you mean, my boy."

"With the war," Nico said quickly, "you said it's Poseidon and Zeus against Hades, didn't you? Whose side are we on?"

Chiron looked down at his clasped hands. "That is not for me to decide. As far as I am aware the residents of this camp are supporters of Lords Zeus and Poseidon. The gods have not yet called upon demigods to join the fight, but many have chosen to enlist on their own. …To join the Allies."

"Where does that leave me?" Nico demanded. "I can't– I won't– He's my Papa."

"No one is asking you to charge into battle against your siblings, Nico. You are still only a boy and you will make your own decision when you are old enough. But I would urge you to think about the implications of your choice when the time comes."

Nico nodded, swirling his soup around with his spoon. He almost wished he hadn't asked. If they were on opposite sides of a war, it was no wonder the other campers disliked him so much. He couldn't blame them really. If he had come face to face with one of the Allies in Genoa, he doubted he would have welcomed them with open arms. But he had thought he was one of them, that he was on their side. He had grown up in America, had spent the first nine years of his life living and growing alongside the most prominent families of the American government. What did he need to do to prove himself? How could he prove that he wasn't some kind of monster?

After lunch, they retreated to the living room. Since Nico's arrival at Camp Half-Blood, Chiron had been attempting to teach Nico about his demigod abilities. Apparently, children of the Olympian sons of Kronos, the 'Big Three', were more powerful, their emotions more temperamental, and their actions more dangerous. More importantly for Nico, they were also known to have potentially devastating abilities. As Nico's trainer, it fell to Chiron teach him how to control his powers.

Unfortunately for everyone involved, Nico had yet to show even a hint of supernatural abilities.

"We have discussed some of the myths already," said Chiron as he settled into place beside an end-table piled high with leather tomes. Nico flopped down on the couch, leaning against its plush arm. "The Rape of Persephone," Nico shifted uncomfortably, "Orpheus and Eurydice, the Labours of Hercules… I think it's time we get into the mechanics. To gain access to the Underworld at all, there's a price." Chiron dug into his pockets and withdrew a single gold coin. He placed it on the coffee table between them. "The ancients used silver, the gods use gold. One gold drachma to pay the ferryman for passage across the River Styx, the traditional way is to place it under the tongue of the deceased." Nico stared at the coin, transfixed. "These days, the ferryman has found other ways. He has been known to add the price to any outstanding bills or mortgages, leaving it for the relatives to cover the cost."

Nico cocked his head slightly, examining the coin from a distance. On the face of the coin, Zeus watched him out of the corner of his eye. Zeus versus Hades….

"Nico, are you listening to me?"

"Mmhm."

A pause.

He looked up. Chiron was staring at him, unimpressed.

"What is on your mind?"

Nico pushed himself up from the couch, pacing over to the window overlooking the strawberry fields.

My brother died overseas. Fighting your kind.

He knew it was true. Thousands of people were dying overseas, hundreds every day, and there wasn't anything he could do to stop it.

"This is stupid."

"And what makes you say that?"

He whirled around. "There's no point! If I can't use my powers… I'm never going to need this."

"You might be surprised. In my experience, it is always better to know more than you need to than not enough."

"And what good is knowing everything about that stupid coin when there are people dying out there? Shouldn't you be teaching me something useful? Something that could actually help people?"

Chiron's smile was sad and wistful, like Nico reminded him of someone he had known a long time ago. "You have a good heart, Nico, but you are too young to concern yourself with the war. Focus on your training."

Nico folded his arms and turned back to the window. He could hear Chiron shifting in his wheelchair slightly.

"Nico… do you remember why the gods placed you in my care?"

Nico chewed on his lower lip and thought back.

Of course. He had nearly forgotten. Everything had happened so fast. The boy will be trained to fulfil– "The prophecy… they said something about a prophecy."

"Yes, exactly. Years ago now, the Oracle of Delphi revealed a prophecy that a child of Zeus, Hades, or Poseidon would one day save Olympus. That is why you are here. The gods chose you to that be that hero."

"Me?" It was almost funny. "Chiron, I'm not a hero. I'm never going to be a hero. Everyone at this camp hates me, I can barely lift a javelin, you've seen my aim, and it took hours to find a sword small enough for me!"

"I have trained more heroes than you can imagine," said Chiron, "and I see so much potential in you. The gods chose you–"

"They chose wrong!" The silence hung in the air like fog. "They should have picked Bianca," Nico mumbled. "Or," his head whipped up, "what about Phillip?"

"After the prophecy was received, we waited for Phillip to take the place of the hero of the prophecy. He was already fourteen at the time. When he turned sixteen and the war began, we kept waiting for something to happen. We prepared for the demigods to join the fight but no immortal threat ever revealed itself. Now he is too old, the prophecy specifically calls for a child at age sixteen. It must be you, Nico."

"What if I don't want it?" he demanded.

Chiron held his gaze for a long moment. Then he sighed. "As you are already up, I'll ask you to fetch down a book for me. Top shelf, left side, no title."

"You haven't answered my question."

"Humour me."

Nico huffed and went to the bookshelf, standing on his tiptoes to reach. The book was not quite as thick as the others on its shelf and none of the pages were dogeared or annotated like the majority of Chiron's collection. Apparently it was not often read. Chiron took the book and started flipping through the pages absently. When he found what he was looking for he held the book out to Nico who took it cautiously, and sat back down on the edge of the sofa.

"There," said Chiron. "Read, translate, and memorize the first three prayers listed in this chapter."

"What is this?" said Nico, scanning the open page.

"A dissertation studying the inner workings of the Underworld. A student of mine wrote this by hand several decades ago. I'll expect that you study it well. And when you are finished with that, you can help the Apollo cabin."

Nico wrinkled his nose. The Apollo cabin was on maintenance duty, fixing and cleaning up anything that needed to be dealt with around camp. It was not his favourite camp activity.

"I'm not joking, Chiron. I really don't think I can do this."

"I'm afraid you don't have a choice, this is what the fates have decreed. The only thing we can do is prepare you for the prophecy."

Camp Half-Blood seemed to be granted a measure of control over the weather. It was barely March, but the snow had vanished and the sun returned to the sky. A sand race track was revealed from under the layer of frost, and metal stands rolled out from a storage shed behind the Big House.

Nico assumed that they would be used for foot racing during the warmer months. He had regularly joined the other boys at St. Dismas' in athletics on the track. Pietro had always been more athletic than him, excelling particularly at hurdles. Nico himself preferred sprints – much less strenuous, at least in his opinion.

Nico joined in the Apollo cabin weeding and raking along the track to make sure it was ready for use. Unlike the Hermes cabin, no one in the Apollo cabin seemed to want to interact with him, nastily or otherwise. He kept his distance, there was no need to antagonize them unnecessarily. Much simpler to avoid that conflict. The Apollo siblings worked together, dividing the track into segments and assigning one or two kids to clean it up. Nico was given his own section apart from the others.

He didn't really mind being kept separate; since leaving St. Dismas' he had become accustomed to being by himself. Besides, he repeatedly told himself, he had Chiron. He had never needed many friends before anyway. Bianca had been his best friend when they were younger, Americans had never been fond of them, and Pietro had been his near constant companion at school. Chiron was enough.

There was a commotion coming from the cabins: whooping and hollering and an odd creaking. Nico looked up from his patch of weeding just as a rundown chariot came rolling around the corner of cabin twelve. A charioteer guided a pair of oil-stained horses that, if Nico's eyes were to be believed, were made entirely of bronze.

Having shared the archery field with the Hephaestus cabin during his lessons with Chiron, Nico recognized the driver as Danny Parker, son of Hephaestus. He was four years older than Nico and about three times as large.

Behind Danny came a swarm of Hephaestus campers following and cheering. Danny grinned and urged his metal horses on faster. The chariot wheels groaned as they rolled across the damp grass. They bumped along onto the dirt track, careening a sharp turn until the horses sped forward, straightening the chariot behind them. Apollo campers jumped back as the chariot rumbled its way down the track. Nico stepped back onto the grass off of the path as the chariot creaked by.

Nico had never seen a Greek chariot before. It was little more than a wooden basket, open at the back, mounted on an axle between two wheels. Neither safety nor comfort seemed to have been taken into account. He wanted to give it a try.

"Chiron holds monthly races," said a voice from just behind him.

Nico near jumped out of his skin. He whipped around. A tall boy with a head of neatly cropped blond hair stood behind him. His skin was tanned, despite the fact that spring had just barely started.

"Hephaestus' children always seem to have the best chariot, but I predict that that one will need some improvements before it is race-worthy."

Nico privately thought that that wasn't much of a prediction. "Sorry," he said, "but who are you?"

The boy frowned. "You don't recognize me?"

Nico shook his head.

The boy chewed on his bottom lip, apparently thinking hard. "That can't be right…" he said. "No, you must be confused, dazzled by my good looks as you are." He puffed out his chest, hands on his hips. "I'm Apollo!" He flashed a blindingly white smile. Nico could have sworn he saw an actual twinkle at the corner of his grin.

"I do remember you!" Nico realized. "You looked different on Olympus. Older."

"Ah, yes," said Apollo, chuckling slightly. "I thought I could jog your memory. My father is a bit of a fuddy-duddy, doesn't like how I outshine him when I show off my magnificence in this form." He gestured down at his torso. "So on Olympus I attempt to play down my looks, not an easy feat, I assure you."

"Right. Erm… Can I help you, Lord Apollo?"

Apollo looked him over and nodded. "Yes, I suppose you can. I must speak to your trainer, if you could fetch him for me…"

"No need, Lord Apollo." Chiron trotted up behind Nico. He bent his long forelegs into a brief bow and gave Apollo a warm smile. "It is good to see you again, old friend."

"And you, Chiron, it has been a long time. Now I hear we have chariot races afoot." He rubbed his hands together eagerly. "After last year's performance I know just what my children need to crush– I mean, defeat in a fair and gracious manner, the other teams."

He clapped his hands once and two golden blurs shot out of the forest. The shapes were moving too quickly for Nico to make out what they were until they skidded to a halt near the group. Two beautiful palominos, taller than any of the pegasi at camp. They tossed their heads wildly and stamped their hooves hard enough to spray dirt.

The scene had attracted a small crowd, those that had only minutes ago been awing at Danny's chariot were now transfixed by the two horses. Several of the campers seemed to recognize Apollo and whispered excitedly to each other.

"This is a generous gift," said Chiron, holding out his hand for one of the horses to sniff.

A young camper, a girl maybe eight or nine years old, scampered out of the crowd to the nearest horse. It dropped its nose to inspect the child, snorting hot breath through her blonde curls. She laughed and stroked the stallion's nose.

"Oh, thanks, dad!" she squealed, giving the horse vigorous pats on the neck.

Apollo grinned at her. "Hey, no problem kiddo."

Nico got the feeling Apollo enjoyed this type of attention. A troop of adoring and grateful children and several starstruck teenagers must be a major stroke to his ego.

"And you came to deliver these yourself?"

"Ah, no," Apollo looked suddenly a bit sheepish, "I am here on official business." Nico could have sworn that Chiron cast him a glance, but the look was gone as soon as it had come.

"I see," said Chiron. "My office then?"

The two separated themselves from the group, making their way down to the Big House, and leaving the Apollo campers to fawn over the horses. Nico watched them go, standing alone in the crowd.