A/N: Short PSA for y'all: in the reviews, somebody was like apologizing for asking me a question because they thought it was a "weird" question.

That's bullshit. Never be wary to ask me shit; I LOVE answering your questions, no matter how strange or awkward they get. It's just a small thing that forces me to reflect and contemplate my own opinions, and seriously I can't possibly overstate how much love it.

Feel free to always stimulate my brain, no matter if you're asking me something philosophical and existential like the meaning of life, or something as stupid as what my favorite eye color is. Plus questions about the FF and writing in general are some of my favorites to answer.

Disclaimer: All rights remain. Also, I adapted a couple lines from this one manga I finished recently during Percabeth's breakfast scene. I just thought it was fitting. Additionally, I came across this one line on Tumblr, and it was so beautiful, I just had to use it. It's from this thing called NOT DEAD YET, but idk really know who to credit, so that's what I'm going to go w ig?

Annabeth

Annabeth picked awkwardly at the fruit and egg in front of her. She was acutely aware of Thalia menacingly slicing a pear with a goddamn dagger five feet down. Leo was stuffing his face with porridge and slowly pissing off the Lieutenant.

The blonde was officially at a loss for words—something she thought only happened to other, more normal people. Conversely, her appetite had significantly reduced at the thought of the somewhat stomach-twisting conversation they had to have.

"Lately I've been thinking about why I can't become more tolerable," Annabeth broke the painful silence, addressing the issue at hand.

Percy looked up at her, fully dressed now, a proper gentleman. He had somehow managed to elegantly peel an orange, all without getting a drop of juice on his hands. Annabeth blinked, quietly awed. Maybe she should've paid more attention in her manner lessons.

"I beg your pardon?" he said after swallowing.

She set down her silverware then, and Percy mirrored her, picking up the cue that they were finally going to have a serious talk about the wild night from before.

"I should just let you do as you please and be a good, complacent lady."

Percy frowned across from her. "I thought we already talked about this. In that castle room, where, er…" he trailed off. He'd kissed her for the first time then. Annabeth wasn't flustered for once. Instead, she held up her hand.

"Look, this is already a strange situation to be in. I'm afraid if you interrupt, I won't be able to make sense of my jumbled thoughts." She bit her lip, nervously.

Percy conceded, falling silent for her to continue.

"Like I said, I should concede more often. It would save us from a lot of arguing." She looked up to gauge his reaction, but his expression was frustratingly unreadable, blank as a page. She pushed forward. "But I can't, that's just not me. We're two people who never would have met, not if all that happened had not. In a sense, we were brought together because our circumstances were what they were. But now that all of that is done with, we're left with our innate values, the things our parents and siblings drilled into our heads from the day were were born, and so our way of thinking are just much too different. We're left here, mismatched."

There was another awkward silent with Annabeth anxiously awaiting his response.

Percy must've realized she was finished for he finally spoke up.

"So?"

That's it? Annabeth blinked, unsure of where to tread from there. She hesitated. "So, I was wondering if we're not compatible."

Percy blinked at her before letting out a ragged sigh. "Who gives a damn?"

Annabeth drew back in surprise. "Excuse me?"

"Who cares?" he reiterated. "We're already deep in this for better or for worse, and I highly doubt I could pry myself away from you even if you asked. Compatibility is out of the question at this point." He considered his next words carefully, shrugging to himself. "Every time you have an issue with me, come at me like always. Turn the tables upside down, like you always do, argue with me all you want, and we'll make it out okay in the end. Always. That's kind of our thing, is it not?"

"Won't you get tired of it?" She ignored the butterflies in her stomach. His words were refreshingly touching.

Percy paused, thinking for a moment. "I will," he quietly agreed. "But I think that is, in some way, what loving someone is about."

She could feel something in her ribcage melting.

"You're not supposed to say that out loud." She covered her face with her hands, irrationally embarrassed.

Percy laughed across from her, and she thought she really was losing her mind because since when had people had musical laughs? God, she was really screwed. She felt his hands on her wrists, a more tender touch than last night's harsh bruises, gently prying her hands away from her now rosy cheeks.

She winced, and Percy's expression sobered.

"Why didn't you tell me I'd hurt you?" He inspected her. Sure enough, there was a faint blue mark under the surface of her skin on the inside of her right wrist.

"It doesn't hurt," she lied. It only hurt a little. Besides, it couldn't possibly hurt less than his words. No one could wound her like he did, but as she'd realized last night, no one could heal like that either. And she did the same to him.

"You're a terrible liar." Guilt crossed his face at her mild injury with the knowledge that he had caused it, even if it had felt alright, even good, back in the moment. "I'm sorry," Percy apologized, brushing his thumb over the inside of her wrist.

"I don't mind. I think I hurt you a lot worse, anyways," she admitted. They were still again.

"No, you didn't," he promised, but he wasn't looking at her.

"I'm sorry," she told him then, but he didn't look up at her confession.

"Don't be," Percy assured her. "I said terrible, untrue things to you. And you… you weren't entirely missing the mark. The truth hurts, but it is the truth." He blinked down at the orange. "I said it to you in those woods so long ago, and it goes the same for me, even when used as a weapon against me."

She remembered that memory well. It was one of the few clear moments in a foggy film of her life. He had called her out for being a delusional child, and it had been the wake-up call she'd desperately needed.

"You're not like him," she assuaged his pain, or at least she hoped to. She needn't say his name for them to both know who he was talking about.

Percy half-heartedly shrugged to himself. "It hardly matters either way. I'm sorry I asked you to choose. You were right; it was a move of cowardice and desperation. The jealousy of kid denied cookies."

"No." Annabeth's chest burned with a sense of right and wrong.

This… this was wrong.

He was not like Luke, he never would be, and she couldn't allow him to walk around carrying this fear that she hated him or thought of him like that. She never could. In her most fearful moments, she reached for Percy, not Luke. In her darkest moments, she cried on Percy's shoulder, not Luke's. In her most joyful memories, she shot the rare smile at Percy, not Luke. When she randomly remembered strangely entertaining memories in inappropriate situations, it was always about Percy, not his brother.

"No?" questioned Percy, but he wasn't really paying attention, seemingly in a world of his own. She timidly wondered if she was part of it.

"No," she restated and tipped his chin up with her forefinger. "I was mistaken, and I spoke out of spite. You are not him, no matter who says otherwise."

"Stop," he whispered, his voice hoarse. It must've been painful to hear her talk like this, but she couldn't stop herself.

"Please, Percy," she begged. He just shook his head.

"Why can't you take the good from me?" Her chest was concaving. "Why would you rather take my bullets than the compliments? Is this part of your inferiority complex or some other bullshit? You never let me tell you that you're good." Unraveling his reason for existence was a bit extreme this early in the morning.

Percy stared at the table.

"Percy. Look at me when I'm talking to you."

"I don't want to," he mumbled.

Now he was just being childish. "Percy."

He reluctantly looked up, and her heart broke in two. There were stray tears on his eyelashes, and she fell apart, knowing that she had probably caused them. She had probed him too much, had cut him too deep, had gone too far.

Annabeth let out an involuntary gasp. "I'm sorry," she said again. It would never be enough.

"I'm sorry," he fiercely denied her the opportunity to make things right, putting the blame on himself instead. Percy stood up, sweeping the orange peels in a nearby scraps bucket to be composted.

"I'm going to visit Nico. Maybe today's the day." It was painfully optimistic and too forward to be like him.

She watched him go, the familiar, gut-wrenching emptiness returning in a flood of mixed emotions.

Nico

Lying supine on the white sheets, Nico's eyes cracked open. Something had surely woke him up, and he couldn't even remember getting here, and everything hurt like a motherfucker, and part of him wanted to sew his eyes closed and go the fuck back to sleep where at least in his head he could move his limbs at free will without feeling like an old, aching man, where—

"Nico?"

For a moment, he allowed himself a drop of hope, but it only took a millisecond to evaporate. This was not Will. No, this voice he had not heard in some time.

It took all his energy to look to his right. He tried to sit up, but the dark-haired boy was there, telling him not to move, standing up to hover over him like Nico was one of his burdens. Nico grit his teeth, frustrated, but unable to express it.

"Percy," he acknowledged, his voice cracking midway. Percy grabbed a glass of water at his bedside, knowing that he was parched—he had been fed nutrients and water through tubes for the past few days, weeks, Nico didn't even know. He glanced at the clock on the wall across from him, but it looked so alien, and he had to squint.

"About three weeks," Percy murmured, answering a question Nico hadn't even voiced. That was frustrating too, Percy's uncanny ability to see his needs in the air. This was not the man he had wanted to wake up to, but… but he had hurt the one he wished for. That much he remembered.

"Long time," was all Nico managed to say, speaking in halted fragments. He had always been a young man of few words, but at least he had been able to consciously make that decision in the past. Now, he was forced to conform to silence. He reached up to rub his tired eyes, but found that he could hardly move a muscle in his arms.

"Yes," Percy agreed. "Too long," he lamented, somber.

Nico's eyes flicked at the Prince in front of him. Once upon a time, he would have given anything to be laying here, Percy hovering over him, but he had grown up. Maybe Percy had taught him to grow up, too without ever knowing he had. It was a surprisingly introspective thought he had never come across, not till now.

Thank you, Nico decided, though he would never admit it out loud. No, this secret would come with him to his grave, buried in the dirt with him. Thank you for being my first love.

Through the years, Percy had become something more human to him, less of an untouchable god. It was a relief.

"You scared the shit out of the girl at the border."

Nico blinked, unable to connect the dots. Percy must've seen the look of confusion pasted on his face, for he explained.

"You dragged yourself to the border? She said she'd never seen someone so close to death, and they had to rush the General to the border to identify you, you had been so badly injured." As if on cue, both of them looked down at the bandages around his torso. With great effort, Nico reached up and touched the heavy bandages on the left side of his face.

They stared at each other in an awkward silence. Nico had enough energy to roll his eyes.

"Why are you here?" It was blunt and perhaps harsh, but life was short, and every word made his lungs burn. Best to be concise.

Percy wasn't surprised. "I bet you were expecting some of your Amazon friends," he whispered. "They've been in and out," he assured Nico. "Especially that blond one. I heard Kayla put him on some restrictions, though."

Will. The heart monitor standing at the foot of the bed spiked. Fuck.

They both snapped their lines of sight to look at it. Nico's face felt warm all of a sudden. Shit. He prayed Percy was oblivious enough. Admitting his… gayness really wasn't something he was hoping to do at this point in his life. It was hard enough to come to terms with himself, and Annabeth already knew, unfortunately for him.

"That was weird," Percy broke the silence.

"Sure," Nico hastily agreed. "Faulty machinery." He coughed convincingly.

Percy frowned. "I'll let Kayla know," he conceded, and Nico wasn't sure if he'd bought his lie, or if he was playing dumb. Perhaps they were both stupid, playing dumb together, and pretending the other one didn't know. Nico cringed at the thought of Percy meeting Will under different conditions.

"I should let the doctors know you're up to check your vitals and all that. You know… for a moment, I really didn't know if you were going to make it." Percy stared him down, ruminating. Nico was reminded of Poseidon. Percy was no doubt a carbon copy with his naturally brooding expression. "I'm glad you did," Percy permitted. "I suppose I never should've doubted your ability to fight."

Nico blinked, taken off guard. "Wait." It came out of his mouth before he could stop himself. He internally cursed himself. Percy stilled, watching him in the evening light carefully. The room was streaked with purple and orange. "You never answered."

Why are you here? Why would you spend your days here, based off the way you look? Why would you stay with me when we haven't even spoken in ages?

A shadow passed over his face. "I suppose… I've lost a lot," Percy admitted. "It was nice to have some semblance of stability, even if it was false."

Nico's heart squeezed in his chest, reminded of simpler times, their responsibilities never far away, lingering in dark clouds over their heads, but distanced enough that they could pretend they didn't know of their existence. He was reminded of running through castle hallways with his sister. He remembered Percy scaling a tree while he sat on the grass, cynical even at age five.

"You're going to fall and die, and then I'm going to have to get the Queen because you're an idiot."

Percy's eyes gleamed. "Watch me."

Luke, a head above him, had sat next to him, eyeing a bug as it crawled closer to them. He scowled. "He won't fall."

No, but Nico had. Not from a tree, but from a height indecipherable to him.

"We used to be friends." Percy interrupted his thoughts. "I suppose that's my fault too. I know things have changed, but perhaps I was hoping, albeit deludedly, that this would make it feel like it used to." He watched him, expectantly waiting for a response.

We can still be friends. Nico averted his gaze, and Percy nodded in understanding. He stepped away from the bed, walking out to get a nurse. He could not bring himself to say it, and so he let Percy go.

For now, but not forever. Change was inescapable, and if they had changed to this place in time, maybe they could change some more. Never backward, no, but forward to a better future. One where his body wasn't falling apart, where he could climb trees with him.

Nico closed his eyes, indulging his short-lived euphoria and liberation. Yes, they would climb a great, big sequoia and then look out at the tops of smaller trees, and they would taste the clouds on their tongues and feel the wind in their hair. The green would blossom around them in the idyllic forest. They would chase the aurora over the skyline and relish the rare solitude. The dewy petrichor would rise around them in a halo from the forest ground.

Fearing the fall was for suckers.

Drew

"We're orphans," Silena grossly sobbed across from her.

Drew blinked, slightly unnerved by her sister's running makeup.

Charles handed his wife a handkerchief without another word, and she dabbed at her face before giving in and disgustingly blowing her snot into the clean cloth. Drew cringed.

The funeral for Aphrodite had only been an hour ago, and Silena was crying all over again. Cecily had been kind, and Octavian too, though Drew suspected it was more of a show than anything else.

Drew had no sympathy, not anymore. Their mother had, admittedly, had it coming to her. She had always been spreading lies and making enemies with the wrong sort of people.

And Silena… dear God, who made that woman a Queen? Sumisu was in desperate need of a leader, and Silena's wrecked self was in no shape to be guiding people. Charles was better off by himself, in her opinion.

"Sister, you must move on," Drew frankly stated, hiding her irritation well. Octavian smirked from behind Silena, irking her. She glared at him before continuing. "Do it for your people," she bitterly said. "Do it for Aphrodite, if that makes you feel better."

Silena sniffled pathetically. "I suppose you're right. Mom would never have wanted our land to fall apart over her death."

Drew refrained from rolling her eyes. Aphrodite was one of the biggest attention-hogs she had known. She would've taken great, personal offense if everyone didn't grieve for at least a year.

"Exactly," she said instead, choosing not to be the cause of another bout of tears. "Chin up. We have the press to report to."

Silena nodded, her bottom lip quivering. Beckendorf squeezed her side reassuringly, and a jolt of jealousy sparked in Drew. Life wasn't fair, but not being able to embrace your lover in public due to prejudice was too hard to deal with.

"Thank you, Drew," Silena expressed her gratitude. "You're exactly right, as always. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Drew was left with a bitter taste in her mouth when Octavian looked at her, raising an inquisitive eyebrow. She was thankful Cecily didn't notice their little exchange.

"Of course," she muttered, allowing Silena's handmaidens to usher her out of the room, doting over her face to apply a fresh coat of paint.

Nico

He scowled as Kayla checked his vitals. Nico was overcome with the sudden urge to rip out the stupid tubes and escape the hellhole.

Percy had quieted over the past half an hour, sitting silently at his bedside, only a few feet away now. Nico was also overtaken by an overwhelming amount of guilt. He would fix this, but only if everyone else would leave. He would rather damn himself before he would let any vulnerable part of him shine through with so many people around him.

Reyna was here now, and Annabeth too. Part of him was relieved that Will wasn't there because Kayla had forbid him, but the other part was tortured with curiosity; if there had been no restrictions, would he have showed up?

"I can't believe he did that to you," Annabeth spat, livid. Two angry women in one room was enough to make Nico restless. Reyna's lips were sealed, but her eyes blazed. Still, Nico was grateful to see the blonde still alive and kicking. He couldn't lose another sister, even if this one wasn't blood.

"How many more?" the blonde demanded, spinning to Reyna. Reyna's jaw clenched. "First Jason, then Nico, and then me. He's psychochotic. And he's alive! Fucking hell, he's still out there!" Annabeth slammed the water cup against the nightstand, and some of the liquid hopped over the rim, droplets spilling on the light wood.

"Last time you tried to kill him, he nearly killed you," Reyna pointed out, crossing her arms over her chest.

Annabeth frowned. "So we need a better plan," she conceded. "But I'm not letting him off the hook this time. He'll fucking pay." Her steel eyes shined, and Nico really didn't want to know the gory details running through her mind.

"We'll talk about this later." Reyna yielded, passing another glance over Nico. "Feel better," she offered, her expression softening at the abundance of his white bandages and sickly-colored patches of skin.

He was finally rainbow, Nico mused to himself, even on the outside. Bruises of various hues covered his surface, serving as a reminder of Octavian's brutal attack.

"I'll come see you later," Annabeth reminded him, brushing his hair out of his face like Bianca used to. He felt a lump in his throat at her habitual action. "And don't worry about that motherfucker. I'll take care of it. I'm going to fix this for you," she promised him, lightly resting her palm against his forearm. "You just get better, Nico. Maybe you can train me better, so he doesn't beat me as well next time." Mirth danced in her eyes, but he could see through it. She was drowning in relief.

"Okay," he whispered for her sanity, watching her follow in suit behind Reyna.

He stared at Percy and the ground in between them. "I don't bite, you know."

"Glad to see you haven't entirely lost your sense of humor," Percy rumbled.

"Octavian wasn't as impressed." Nico was hopelessly tempted to ignore the elephant in the room. "I get it, you know."

Percy's facial features scrunched up. "I beg your pardon?"

God, he still sounded stuffy like the rest of those idiot Calbournes. "I understand longing for stability."

"Oh." He hollowed his cheeks, sucking in air desperately. "I probably shouldn't have said that out loud."

"Still as honest as ever, I see," Nico remarked, sitting up in bed, though struggling. Percy was conflicted to help him, he could see it on his face, but when he shot him a dark glare, Percy stayed seated. Nico sat forward, folding his hands in his lap. "I would've thought Annabeth would have broken you by now."

Percy blinked, bewildered. "She told you?"

Nico rolled his eyes so hard he feared they would fall out in his hands. "Still an idiot, too. You guys are so obvious."

Percy's mouth parted in surprise. "I—"

"Imagine if Athena found out." The corner of Nico's mouth curved up in amusement. The old Queen would've beheaded Percy in a heartbeat, the rivalry flaming just as bright as ever. Centuries of hatred would not end with Percy and Annabeth's probably disturbingly sweet love.

More surprisingly, Nico was shocked with his own calmness. The reminder of Percy didn't stab him in the gut, no… he was happy for him. "Please never talk about it with me, though," he added hastily. "It's probably gross."

Percy coughed. "That would be indecent," he pointed out.

"Of course it would. Everything is these days," he muttered under his breath. A muscle in Percy's cheek twitched, and Nico knew he had heard. The intrusive image of Will pushing him against the cabin wall came to mind, and Nico prayed that he wasn't flushing; pink stained his white face much too easily.

"Percy, I know what you're thinking."

"Hmm?"

"Don't beat yourself up about it."

Percy's face fell. "I can't help it."

"You're not responsible for me," Nico reminded him, and it was freeing to hear out loud. It must've had the same effect on Percy, for he shuddered like his soul was exiting his body. "And I am not responsible for the version of me you've created in your head."

Percy reeled back like he had hit him.

"Percy. Stay with me, okay? Pay attention. We can talk about this. We're adults."

"You're not," he whispered after a pause. "You're sixteen. And I'm so sorry."

"Percy!" Nico snapped, and it took all his energy that Percy's head shot up to look at him. "Do you understand me? You are not responsible for this. I have made my own choices, and you have made your own. We parted ways to satisfy our own needs, and this is where we happened to land up. And I know you know a million things about me and vice-versa that we'll never say out loud, but you don't know me anymore. You just don't. And it's okay, but I'm not the same kid I was a decade ago."

Percy's head fell into his hands. "I thought you were going to die," he admitted. "I couldn't fathom it, Nico; it made me crazy. I can't explain it. You're the last… the last piece of what once was, and I know I should let it go, I know it—it's destroying so much around me—but I can't. I can't let you grow up without feeling like I've thrown you to the wolves. I scared her so badly, Nico. You don't even know the half of it; you should've seen her face."

Nico watched him fall apart in front of him. When Percy smiled to himself, it was toothy and fake, and when he laughed, it was a cacophony of metallic hollow sounds that reverberated through his hunched figure and chilled the bones of those who knew this was not the boy they used to know.

He knew without a doubt he was speaking of Annabeth.

"I've never seen her so terrified of me. I can't do it again, Nico. And I can't have you dying left and right, and I can't shelter you, but I wish I could," Percy expressed, wearing his heart on his sleeve. It was a bravery Nico had never learned: the ability to be vividly in touch with one's own feelings, the ability to unapologetically feel everything life had to offer. "And I saw you sneak a cigarette back at the palace after everyone had gone to bed, did you know? But I could never bring myself to tell you about it. What was I supposed to say? You're slowly killing yourself? Something tells me you already know that." He raked his fingers through his messy hair.

Nico was resigned with the knowledge that only he knew this side of Percy.

"You can't blame me for being self-destructive. I think you've got the streak in you too, only you fight it." Nico eyed him.

Percy laughed humorlessly. "I guess that's true."

"Let me tell you a secret, Percy." Nico picked at the peeling tape around the cotton soaking up his blood. "We were born to die," he whispered. "We were never meant to last. A reign is never eternal. It is short-lived, and it is painful. The life of Kings is never one of glory, and so my philosophy stands. If we are destined to go up in flames, why should it not be the biggest, brightest flame? Why should I not choose my end if I have already come to terms with it?"

"That's suicidal talk." Percy was panic-stricken. "I knew shit was wrong with you. Nico, I don't know how to fix this, you've got to—"

"Listen to me; you're not listening." Nico glanced to Percy's hands which were trembling on their own accord. "I am telling you this is my choice. And you can't change my mind, and neither can Will. This is my peace, do you understand? I pray you'll find yours."

"Nico," Percy choked out. He sounded like he was going to cry, and Nico's sympathy burned for him.

"We're going to make it out of these wars, Percy," Nico promised. "You're going to be okay, as okay as we'll ever be. But you can't have these expectations anymore, you can't linger on the past. It took me some time to learn…" His eyes darkened, his family flashing in the back of his mind. "We've got to move on for the sake of those around us and for ourselves. Things will play out like how they were meant to, and we can't change it. We can't control everything, and the sooner you understand it, the more free you'll feel. I'm not your responsibility anymore. I can make my own decisions, and you can move forward, and we can talk again, but you don't have to watch me like I'll die any second."

"I can't let it go." He shivered. He was squeezing Nico's shoulder tightly, but Nico hardly felt it. It was probably the drugs Kayla had put him on.

"Get some sleep, Percy."

"Nico?"

"I'm going to be okay. We'll be okay," he repeated, consoling the older boy. "Luke's going to be okay, and Annabeth, too. And Reyna, and Piper, and Drew, and Silena, and Beckendorf, and Octavian too. I'm not going to shrivel up without your watch." Percy tensed up.

"Everyone's going to get what they had coming for them, and that's just how it goes. Don't stress about it. Go talk to Annabeth. Sweep her off her feet, for god's sake, if you're anything like your father."

Percy's shoulders were shaking now. "I can't leave you," he admitted.

"But I'm not going anywhere. We're friends, are we not?"

"We are," Percy promised. "I didn't mean to leave you alone."

"I left you too," Nico reminded him. "But I forgive you," he assured him, pushing him back. "Now get the hell out of here. You're practically translucent. This is not the end, Percy."

"It feels like the end."

"Change always does." Nico shrugged. "It took me a while to get used to as well, but now that I have, it's… enlightening. We're going to win these wars, and you're going to grow old with Annabeth, and I'm going to be there for you, even if I don't happen to be right there."

"See, it's that talk." Percy pointed a shaky finger at him. "You talk like you're already dead, Nico."

"I already told you. This is my way of coping. And I have no doubt I will go before you do, so I will comfort you now, even if the inevitable is decades away."

"I can't even begin to think about it, Nico." There were tears in his eyes, stubborn yet persistent.

"Then don't. Dwelling on the future doesn't do you any good. For me, it's balance. For you, it's a burden. So, do as you will."

"Get better, okay?" Percy desperately pleaded, but he nodded. "Come talk to me. Don't waste away like a ghost if you feel like shit, okay? You're… family. You always have been, and you'll always be welcome."

"Thank you," Nico permitted. Percy sat back, satisfied. "We'll train later."

"Nico." Percy was exasperated.

He raised an eyebrow. "What did I just say?"

Percy's fists balled up in frustration. "Fine," he reluctantly agreed. "We'll train later. Much, much later," he muttered, resisting the urge to fuss over Nico's health. It would certainly be quite the learning curve. "You're terrible," he accused. "Making this harder on me."

Nico offered the weakest of smiles. "I'm so offended." He could remember why he had liked Percy so much, looking at him now.

"You should be," Percy mumbled, standing up, opening the infirmary door to step out. He looked at him one last time, hesitating and reluctant to leave him alone. "Nico, I…" He shrugged helplessly, vaguely gesturing to their surroundings.

Nico's heart warmed despite himself. "Ditto, idiot."

Percy smiled to himself, and this time it was genuine because the corners of his eyes crinkled too. "I'll see you at breakfast tomorrow." He nodded to himself, as if to assure himself, before disappearing out of sight. His mind was certainly a complicated one; Nico mulled over the Calbourne Prince for a moment before ripping an IV out of his arm. The sting didn't come till after, but he hardly cared. If Kayla wasn't going to release him, he'd release himself.

He had another healer to make amends with.

Annabeth

Annabeth warily peeked out the peephole on the cabin door, only to see nothing but the pitch black of night. She swung open the door, frowning to herself.

The blonde scanned her surroundings, searching for the knocker, but saw no one. Then she looked down. There was a white envelope at her feet, unsealed and heavy with thick parchment. It must've been Malcolm; only royals had access to such expensive paper.

She bent down and picked it up, scanning the front for some sign of the sender, but instead of her name scrawled in her big brother's familiar, classy handwriting, there was nothing but the date, etched in swoopy letters: July 10th, 1878.

Annabeth nearly missed the big, cardboard box in front of her, preoccupied by the mysterious mail. She reached out for it, her fingers tensing when she realized just how heavy it was. Tucking the letter under her arm, she used all her strength to drag it past the doorway, quietly closing and locking the door behind her—Percy was getting some much-needed shut-eye. (He had walked into the cabin about two hours ago, kissed her fiercely, said something about oranges, and then promptly passed out on the bed.)

It was only once she had brought the box inside that the unmistakable stench hit her. It had been lost, drifting through the wind when outside, but now it was unbearable. Her eyes widened in fear and sickening understanding. All comforting thoughts of Percy left her stranded.

Dropping the envelope to the ground with reckless abandon, she fell to her knees, quickly undoing the thick rope, binding the box closed. Dried blood stained the inside of the box, but that was hardly the biggest of her worries anymore.

Annabeth stared at the corpse in front of her, her entire body uncontrollably shaking, her heart throbbing painfully in her chest. She felt that she was going to have a stroke. The blond hair was indisputable, and his face was paler than she would've thought humanly possible. More than anything else, there was some sick relief in her for knowing he was dead. Her eyes darted to the envelope she'd abandoned in terror. Something told her the relief would not last.

She scrambled for the paper behind her. Annabeth's hands were visibly trembling as she carefully inspected the paper. Scanning the paper hungrily, the sinking feeling only multiplied. This was so much worse than she could've thought possible. Her mouth went dry, her palms pooling with unwanted perspiration.

I heard he had given you some trouble, but nobody touches what is mine. Three weeks in his prison? I would have paid you a visit of my own, but I would never trust those Langen creeps. Do not worry yourself—it was not a merciful death, nor quick.

Annabeth's stomach twisted into knots at the words, especially those four letters: m-i-n-e.

Consider it an early present, my small favor to you. If you would like, you can consider it an apology for leaving you behind. What a shame that was. That stupid Langen was right about one thing, however: you would have made a damn good Queen.

Happy early 18th Birthday, Princess. I've said it once, but I'll say it again: I do hope we will be celebrating together.

The note fell out of her hand, drifting to the ground like a leaf. Her hands flew up to cover her mouth when she read the signature. Even without the closing, it was inequivocabile. She would recognize the voice in the writing anywhere.

"Percy!" she screamed bloody murder, desperate not to be alone with the memory of two monsters. This was too much, this was too much, this was too—

Percy stumbled into the room, his hair sticking up in every which direction. Guilt shot through her at waking him, at interrupting his energy recovery, at being afraid, and a burden, and… she couldn't do this. Percy was stunned silent, and then his expression froze when he recognized the face.

"You killed Octavian?" he hissed. "How did he even get here? Annabeth—" Percy dropped to his knees, dutifully sitting by her side, but then he paled at the realization that this corpse had been dead for much too long to be a fresh murder.

"No," she held up the note now, pressing it into his warm palm. She was scooting away from the body, almost subconsciously.

"No?" His eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the grim look on her face. "Who could've possibly—" The color drained from his face.

"Luke did."

A/N: Sooo last chap, I purposefully phrased it ambiguously. Strong feelings don't necessarily mean sad emotions— it could always be pure joy and satisfaction at releasing pent-up rage once Octavian died. ;) (I find it slightly concerning how much fun I had messing with you guys.) (Also, I said it in one of my review responses, but isn't it kinda terrifying that Luke decided to kill Octavian, and just did in like five min, but then everyone else had so much trouble killing him, thus wasting time, getting injuries, Nico nearly dying, Annabeth being captured, etc. Luke be powerful af, and that's the real tea.)

(Also, it's... it's "thank u, next" bc Nico got over Percy... and you know that's comedic gold, 10/10 ik... and I'll stop now.)

Also, fun fact, y'all. I was talking to a friend of mine about languages, polyglots, etc., and since they didn't even know this (and promptly freaked out), I thought maybe some of you guys would be interested to know that English wasn't my first language. *cue mental breakdowns all across the board*

I'm so sorry this A/N is such a mess, but my brain is exploding (which you can prob see in this chapter), and everything's kinda messy and not making sense, and I can't speak sentences anymore, and just—help? This also means review responses are excessively long and rambly bc I cannot function right now. Like I was rereading the part w Nico and Percy before posting this, and none of it makes any sense or has any flow, but idek how to fix it at this point. Rational thinking is just— *incoherent screeching* To help lessen the damage, I made the chapter quite short so that my stupid writing wouldn't take up too much space. Perhaps next chapter will be better, so I'll write more. (I feel like I've been saying that a lot lately, though. :/) I'm in desperate need of more action in this story. Maybe it's just me that feels like it's slow. Idk.

Sorry again.

Until next time~

Fangirl xx

DaughterofAthena223: It's not a good death if there's no connection. *shrugs* Well, I'm glad you liked the chapter then anyways. After all, writing is for the readers, not for the author lol. And in all fairness, I don't love most of my chapters. I never edit or revise, so it's always a bit sloppy, and it just never quite matches the vision in my head. Once in a while there'll be a scene I'm particularly pleased with, but that's rare. :P

Guest: It's indeed a strange question, but in short, no. I try to keep people ik from reading my FFs and tbh, there's more to it than just the awk idea of them reading my sex scenes haha, even though, like you said, they're really not explicit at all. This is going to be a long answer, one probably deeper than you expected, but here's the best way I can explain why:

There's just something about writing that's undoubtedly vulnerable. It doesn't matter if it's an original plot or a fanfic, but when I write, a little piece of me goes into everything. There's shards of my personality scattered in my characters' personalities, and there's experiences I've seen/gone through in what my characters go through. My self-loathing goes into the angst and my rare joy goes into the humor.

It can be small things. You can tell in bantering scenes how witty an author is, how funny they are. You can tell by the author's voice how they talk in real life, if they cuss humorously, etc. That's not as big of a deal, but when you get to the deep ideas... oh boy.

How they deal with sex, religion, love... that is a big deal. You can see the deepest parts of somebody's soul, what they find beautiful, what they value—you understand it all without being their intimate partner, without them ever directly telling you.

In a way, my readers will understand me better than any of my friends or relatives due to my writing. There's this safety barrier behind the anonymity of FF or even in publishing a book with your own name, only to have strangers read it. You can express your darkest fears through your characters, your most twisted feelings, and no one can judge you because they don't really know you at all. It's a secret that only I know. Only I know what parts of my story is real to me, and you can only deliberate amongst yourselves, making conjectures about what part is truly me, and what part is simply my imagination—tied to this world in which I've poured my blood and sweat—running in opposite directions, and nobody who sits and reads my words will know how fucked up I am.

That's why I forbid my FF friends from reading my shit. (None of my irl friends/family know I write FF, and I've withheld the information purposefully.)

I can fully express myself and become close with you guys while still keeping everyone an arm's distance away. Perhaps it's my self-destructive streak or some irrational fear, but I've never been openly in touch with my emotions, and I've always felt it's better this way.

You read my writing, and I answer your questions in this mutual, unspoken agreement. We share no blood, no otherworldly bonds, but from one human to another, we are sisters and brothers in every sense. We have an understanding that we won't ever understand each other, but we stick together anyways, and that's beautiful.

(PS Ig you were wrong about Nico, but I'm guessing you're more relieved that you were wrong lol. Either way, thanks for guessing; I love it when readers are really engaged. :))

Mitsuha Miyamizi: I have so much respect for authors who write like John Green. Like… how do y'all sound so damn philosophical and smooth all the time? (Teach me, senpai XP) Yeah, I pretty much filled last chapter to the brim with Percabeth to make up for all the time Annabeth had been locked up, but ofc I couldn't make them interact without getting the strong urge to create angst (cue the arguing lol). I'm glad you liked the chapter regardless, though.

Well, now Nico's fully okay. Ngl, I was totally going to kill him. It would've been so interesting to have the Pevanshire bloodline run out like that, and then when I got to the epilogue, I could address how it ran out, and it'd leave a rather bittersweet ending, but then I realized I really wanted more for him, you know? He's always betting on his early death, and I just want Will to prove him wrong so bad, and I really want part of his arc to be bigger, even if the main parts of his are over. I want him and Annabeth to develop that relationship, I want him to come to terms with moving on past Percy onto Will, I want him to be a little better, just like in the canon series' where he grows up and becomes a little bit happier. So, I changed my mind last chapter (last minute, I know), and had Will come in and yell at him, showed the illusion of his heart rate monitor spiking at Will's voice. Nico needs more time to grow, and I'm a firm believer that if I had killed him this early on, it would have been a fatal mistake.

Sam: Eek, new readers get me so excited; welcome! Thank you so much :D As a fellow marathoner myself (not for running obvi lol), I have never been more ecstatic to hear that someone treats my stories like I treat the stories of my idols, reading it in one shot, unable to put it down. I've never quit a story in the past, and this certainly (hopefully) won't be my first one. Hope this chapter lived up to expectations!

Deeksha.27: *Sees the length of the review* Holy sh— No, but in all seriousness, I love that you delved deep with your review. It reminds me a lot of me deeply analyzing some of my favorite authors' stories even when it's probably not that deep tbh. ANYWAYS. New readers are so exciting; welcome! :)

Yeah, I've been sixteen for three or four days and a week as I'm typing this (1:13am Jan. 4th), so I've always been the baby on forums and in the FF community in general. XP It's all good, dude. Unless you're writing a story, I'm not going to castrate people for poor grammar in messages; I hardly bother with it when replying to reviews. Yes, yes, yessss. TMI/TID/TDA/ANYTHING Cassandra Clare and I'm there, I swear haha. It's probably one of my all-time favs, especially TID. (Jem and Will are my babies). I'm going to call that a success if you honestly see some Cassie-ness in me bc that woman is a straight up queen, and I can only wish I had the amount of talent she has in her damn pinky.

You re-read the previous chapters to make guesses, and you quoted my lines in your analysis? Omg I think I love you? Now to address your guesses since I can probably confirm the ones that have already happened and still avoid spoilers…

For the fire thing, I was thinking it was more logical, not as metaphorical as you're thinking (though I quite like your line of thought) because it was just Tiresias, not some royal who knows how to really twist their words. I also said "swallowing man" as in humanity, a group of people, not just one. Hence, I was thinking those swallowed by fire are the people Percy killed. When Percy rescued Annabeth from the hospital, he set the place aflame before leaving, and it was implied that Octavian and his minions were left behind in the fire (though Percy has a sinking feeling Octavian is still alive because that guy just doesn't seem to die no matter what you do). Actually, the gilded cage reference is ambiguous. It can definitely apply to her imprisonment by Octavian, but there's something that's going to happen soon, and that cage is a much bigger deal than the couple weeks she spent in Octavian's manacles. Yes, the denied proposal was one hundred percent the part with Octavian. Welp, Nico didn't die. Tiresias always phrases things in a way that's slightly deceiving. Earlier he said "man," making people terrified that a million people would die, but it was the enemy. Now he says "dying," and so we assume the person's marked for death without doubt, but when we say "dying," it just refers to someone who's severely ill. He was dying, and now he's not. *shrugs* I said more about what I was planning to do with Nico (I was indeed going to kill him off), and then I explained why I changed my mind in the review reply to Mitsuha Miyamizi a little bit above this if you're curious. The flower crushed by fists is Will; he got that magical healing flower and crushed it up to save Nico from his wounds, and it worked, healing most physical injuries, but then he went into a coma.

Ah, yes, the Victorian conflict. You're not the first one to be confused by it, and I can see why. The story's set in a dystopian version of the Victorian era, which explains why the US is divided into all these nations with monarchies instead of rebelling against Britain in 1765. I've included it so that technology is also heightened in this dystopian version, simply for writing convenience. I'm not sure how I'd be able to connect a million subplots without that convenience, and that's partially why I chose to deviate from a true historical representation of the Victorian period. The real reason I picked the Victorian period wasn't really for the history or politics (like Britain still being a monarchy), but for the culture: the fancy dresses, the courting, the royal culture, the heightened sexism, the class. The Victorian period was very fashion-forward and romantic (it directly overlaps the romantic period in music, as well), and there's something charming, though not simplistic by any means, about it. My advice is not to dwell on historical accuracies and treat it for what it is—an alternate universe. I hope that helps! :)

Thank you very much for all the praise—it warms my cold, cold heart lol—and I hope this reply was more helpful than excessively wordy. I hope this chapter lived up to expectations, and I hope to see more of you in the future! :D

(PS You don't have to call me "author" lmao. I have some of my pseudonyms/nicknames on my profile, but people who have known me the longest on FF call me Fangirl :P)

Reader: No, no, I updated v quick over break. I was procrastinating a lot lmao. I'm trash for long reviews though lol. Tbh I'm trash for reviews, period. (Or just trash, period XP) I WANT MORE CHILDHOOD PERCY X NICO. They're my dark little Princes UwU and honestly I kinda need help. And imagining both of them in dark royal suits, scowling in a corner together dOES SOMETHING TO ME. Yisss I see you with your references ;)

In all honesty, I was totally going to kill him off, but then at the last minute, I decided not to (pls refer to my reply to Mitsuha Miyamizi above as to why if you're curious). I think Nico misses him too (though he'd never admit it out loud), but I think it was just very wounding to be around Percy and love him from afar and then simultaneously hate himself, so Nico separated himself from Percy and slowly everyone else too. Well, OCTAVIAN'S OFFICIALLY DEAD, SO. (But isn't it kinda frightening that Luke killed this man off in like five minutes while it caused everyone else so much trouble and time and injuries? Man's got som r.)

Lmao yeah. I think I channeled too much of passion into Percabeth's little… er… "argument." I couldn't leave it ALL to angst though. (Angsty arguments and talks give me life pls save me.) Tbh I hardly remember my last story. I bury it in the back of my mind w the rest of my regrets in life lmao. I'm so tempted to delete all of my other stories, but ik it's just me who hates all of them, and I don't want to want to rob people of the opportunity to reread their favorite scenes (like ik I do w my favorite FF stories from my fav authors). In all honesty, I'll probably hate this story in another couple months. It's part of the growing process ig. *shrugs* But cutting off this tangent ( ramble), I suppose if you think Percy's different, then he is. You probably see my characters like subjectively, and that makes it easier for you to see that kind of stuff. Part of me feels like Percy can be portrayed one of two ways: super angsty and then super sweet, or way less angsty and then SUPER smooth. Obvi, I subconsciously chose the former in this case. My theory for Will is that he's a much sadder individual than he lets on. At least, that's how I've always seen him. It must be difficult to lose so many patients, especially when he's such an emotionally-tied kinda person, if that makes any sense? I'm really tired and rambling tbh so feel free to call me out for sucking at basic English atm. :D

Idk I just felt like I was letting you downnnn. When you guys want something, I try to do my best to incorporate it in somehow, but I kinda fell flat for that request. Well, I hope the death was somewhat satisfying.