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AN: Thank you for everyone who's still reading! Longest chapter as of yet but I didn't feel it was necessary to split it up so here it is. As always, thanks for your R&R's!

Tempting the Fates

Chapter Twenty Two

Promesse e Maledizioni

Nico

Sleeping on the granite floor of the only known rest stop in Tartarus turned out to be one of the most necessary things to ever happen to Nico di Angelo. It was right up there with: learning to ride a bike without training wheels, winning his first game of Mythomagic, meeting Percy Jackson at his boarding school in Maine, learning to command the dead, and shifting the earth for the very first time. How he felt upon waking wasn't all that different, either— surprised and with the weight of dread in his stomach.

Just because something was crucial didn't always mean it felt like a cake walk.

And in this case the compression against his skull by some invisible hand made the son of the Underworld feel like one of those fat grapes the satyrs were always stomping on to make more of Dionysus bacchant wine. In other words, ready to pop.

Laying where he was, he took an extra few minutes with eyes closed to steady the beating of his heart. The memories of the nightmares ebbed away like a falling tide— they always did. They were constant but fleeting; he accepted that as someone whose situation was always intermittent at best.

The chill of the floor was welcome compared to the warmth of the Grecian fire, or the rest of Tartarus for that matter. His back was cool but his forehead was dotted with sweat. Gods only knew what his hair would look like today— probably some massive frizzy culmination of curls corkscrewing every which way. Not that Tartarus was meant to leave anyone at their best. Maybe Percy, that jerk always looked amazing. Even with his hair sticking up in black strands in every direction, covered in monster gunk and with his clothes sizzling with acid. There was just no hope for the world, especially not for Nico di Angelo.

Stretching out his legs, they protested as they pushed out and he tilted his feet back expanding his achilles heel and feeling the shift and pop of dormant pressure. Limbs protested, though, feeling too long and gangly and so sore. Like really really sore. Bob was watching over them so he doubted some D-grade monster had snuck up in the night and bound him to a rack in an attempt to pop his limbs from their sockets. That didn't mean they felt any better though. Between his heart hammering in his chest (it hadn't stopped since they'd fallen), the pain in his head and the aching in his limbs, he felt an awful like something the Gorgon sisters were trying to peddle to the masses.

Bit by bit he became aware of his body, taking inventory of every discomfort. Assuming they would need to leave soon meant that he should be mindful of everything— all it took was a fraction of a second. One mistake. To keep the oath he'd made as they'd fallen, he could not go and screw anything up. That was how he came to be aware of the weight on his hand as well as the warmth.

Cracking open an eye, he was met with the closed lids of the son of Poseidon, his long fingers curled into Nico's own. If he'd been standing the floor would have fallen out from him, the Ghost King swallowed by precipitance.

Ohmygods. He's… touching my hand. Okay okay. No big thing or whatever. We were sleeping and it was an accident. People totally move around in their sleep. Bianca used to toss and turn and nearly through herself out of the bed. Completely normal.

Yeah, okay. You're only slightly clinging to him like a ten year old girl. His heart was a hummingbird wings so rapid they were a blur. How do you even… can I even move without him waking up? Just a little to the left now over and… oh. Oh. He's… yup he's definitely holding your hand back. Likelihood of escaping this situation with a single shred of dignity has declined to absolute zero. Like this could get any worse.

And just as the thought had formed in his mind it happened: the something worse.

"Wake up! No more sleep, now. Have to get up before Polybotes and the others get here. Many are after you demigods. Bob tried to cover the scent but please do not take this the wrong way, you are very good smelling! Very tasty! Yum yum. Not as tasty as M&M's but they are harder to smell." The frown lines stretched across his face, silver eyebrows clenched together.

Scrunching his eyes shut, the younger demigod feigned sleep in hopes of extricating himself from one of the world's most embarrassing situations ever. Like, literally mortifying. He probably would have had a heart attack and died if life had been slightly less cruel but the universe took great pleasure in rolling around chuckling its stupid head off at Nico. He pushed down whatever minuscule fragment breathed to life for the very first time.

"'M up… I swear!" The son of Poseidon mumbled into his arm where his face was pressed. Through the tiniest crack in his eye he watched as the other demigod stretched himself out and lifted his head, a string of drool attaching his raised head to where he'd just been laying on his arm. For a fraction of a second he closed his hand more tightly around Nico's and then pulled back as he sat up. Everything else seemed so far away.

Another few beats passed them by before the son of Hades rolled onto his back and stretched his arms over his head, both nonchalant and completely oblivious to any hand holding escapades whilst sleeping (the other was completely buying it, no really, he should be an actor if only his ears didn't stick out so much and his nose wasn't so prominent and his skin so pale). Cracking open one eye and then the other, he turned his attention to both Percy and Bob.

"Hurry, little gods. We need to be out of here right now. No more time for rest."

"I don't take it there's going to be another time, huh, Bob?"

He frowned at both of them, eyes pale as moonlight and just as sad; he shook his head. "No, I'm afraid not."

"Don't worry, big guy. I didn't think so." Percy clapped him on the back gently and offered a small smile. "Come on, Nico. We've got to go."

Percy's eyes nearly glowed in the light of the Grecian fire. Nico swallowed hard his knees melting and legs refusing to move— the look the sea prince fixed the Ghost King was full of 'I know that you know and I don't mind.'

"C-coming!" He shouted and ran after the two grabbing for his Stygian blade.

Bob established he knew exactly where he needed to take them and while he had complete faith in this, Percy required a little convincing. Not that he'd doubted Bob but wrapping his kelp for brains around where they were going and how it was going to support them was understandable.

That was when Bob made the big reveal. Death mist.

"What's that?"

Even as the Titan began to explain, Nico's bloodstream was filled with ice. He knew exactly what it was, how it could hide them. They could be enveloped in it at the moment but his heart was too anemic to harbour the idea; he swallowed back the bile building up at the back of his throat.

The trio was breaching the edge of a dark forest, if it could be called that. Rather than bulging pockets of reforming monsters obstructing their passage, warped trees rose up before them. They were taller than he could see, blocking out the strange red swirled clouds and the meagre pulsing light that sometimes allowed them to see (even if its source was not apparent).

The temperature dropped; goosebumps crept along his skin.

"You know Annabeth's cap and how it makes the wearer invisible?"

Percy nodded his head.

"Death mist is like draping yourself in death. You won't look like you anymore and your physical form will start to disperse until you're insubstantial."

"So we'd be what exactly? …Like undetectable to monsters? Gods! We'll actually be able to get to the doors. I mean up until now I hadn't even been thinking about it because everything else just seemed wicked impossible but…" Percy was near bubbling over.

Nico hated to be the one to pollute his vision but sucking on his bottom lip, he crossed his arms over his chest and cast a glance upwards. The thought was settling well with him, but neither was being blinded to what of the dark sky they'd previously had. "Wear it for too long and it doesn't come off, Perce. It's dangerous! It's not like playing dead it's actually completely submitting yourself to— y-you feel yourself dying, okay? N-no one… no one's ever done it before except for me." The words fell more and more faint until he was mumbling, struggling to force them out of his own mouth.

The son of death had nearly become death itself. Bob knowing a different way would have been too expectant for someone used to going without. And still…

On that light note things took a turn for the even more fun— more fun being defined in Tartarus as creating another endeavour to decimate whatever demigod happened to be hanging around and as there were only two to choose from it was all dedicated to two of the Big Three. Yippee.

"What's that—" before the words were fully formed there was a rustling of from above. Something or somethings were moving around up there.

Bob shifted where he stood, hands shoved deep into the front pocket of his dirty denim coverall. "Not good. Not good at all."

Nico was inclined to mirror that sentiment and then it started to rain old women. If old women had gnarled brass claws for fingernails, fiery jewels for eyes, and faces twisted and pitted with scars. Their hair was pulled back severe like librarians in a ballerina tight buns that looked to be creating an artificial face lift with the tauntness of the hair pulled back. They wore torn black gowns, maybe silk or something equally as fine if it hadn't been in need of a laundrette for the past seven hundred years or so.

The one nearest Nico clutched knitting needles in her knotted fingers about three sizes too small for her to handle appropriately. A ball of yarn disappeared into the pocket of an overgrown sweater it looked very much like she was still making at that very minute— the bottom wasn't finished and it was missing some buttons. All the stitches were mismatched and she knit where she should have pearled and it was a horrible mess of a thing.

So happy to see you! She cackled and her smile revealed more gums than rotten teeth.

So many will be pleased! Another dropped next to Poseidon's son who was already uncapping Riptide and had the blade to hand.

Not that they can ever truly be pleased… nagged another.

"Please tell me you're not going to try and make us sample anything. We've had enough samples…"

What!? Samples!? No! There will be no samples!

Who do you think we are? The Gorgon sisters? Another shrieked.

Please! They are trifling and their BBQ isn't even that good.

I heard their food hygiene and safety rating was a zero! Absolutely appalling.

That's the lowest ever given in Tartarus.

Don't you have to not show up to even get a zero? I thought you got points just for writing your name!

Wow. That was pretty low. And Percy had packed more of that crap away than he had cared to think about in the first place. The other demigod was holding up a hand in his direction silencing Nico before he could even speak.

"Just don't."

"Wasn't going to," he chirped back with 'I told you so' practically painted on his forehead in fluorescent green.

"No offense, ladies. We'd love to stand around with you all day chatting. I'm sure you're real interesting and all but we kind of have stuff to do elsewhere and a deadline to meet. You know the whole life or death thing," Percy waved his arm in a circle as if to illustrate. "So do you really need us or can we get going?"

Definitely not the right thing to say. The one closest clenched her knitting needles and cross-stitched up a storm until another row on her misshapen sweater was complete.

Oh yessss. Yes, we need you. So many torments to choose from.

Why choose just one? Added another as she dropped from the trees. In her left brassy hand she clung to what looked like a hook.

"What is that?"

Her jaw dropped in offence revealing more fangs than some of the more dentally challenged before them.

A crochet hook! I bet you know what knitting needles are! You little spoiled nitwits. No time for real skills these days. Why, do you know how long it takes to make something useful with just this and some wool!?

SILENCE! The one in the front barked causing even the trees around them to shake.

Bob, glowing slightly in the dark (it was all the silver and his light pigment, it just wouldn't succumb to the dreariness surrounding them), shook where he stood.

In the name of Night, we bring you a thousand curses. And today, Perseus Jackson, you must choose.

Riptide was at the ready, clutched in his skilled hands. There was no tension in his stance, Nico could read that much. They'd battled together side by side enough times now to be familiar with the other's style and while at Camp Jupiter new flares had been adapted, he would trust his life in the other's hands.

"It's a curse. I don't really have to choose anything now do I," he shot back, choppy as the sea in a storm.

"Gods, do you always have to backchat? You're like the snarkiest precursor to fighting ever." Nico moaned quietly so only his companion could hear and he rolled his eyes, blade still at the ready. Really, he was just being contrary for the sake of it now.

"It kind of takes away from the menace and manliness of it if you point it out," he hissed back.

"Yeah, right. Sooo macho of you."

"Shut it!"

A curse is an oath is it not? They are as much alike as they are different. Waving her knitting needles at them she pointed one directly at his heart. No matter, son of Poseidon, you will choose and my, my, my, what a stack you have to choose from.

That was when the hoard of demonic old ladies in librarianesque attire attacked.

Nico was a shadow, fluid and flowing, following his attackers but always anticipating the next move. With his blade of ebon in hand, he slashed and parried twirled to avoid being chest deep in bronze old lady fingers— they really needed manicures or some basic lessons in self care (only unlike one son of the sea god he wasn't snarking about it out loud).

With each blow, however, he was careful not to land any death delivering ones, which became harder and harder when the swarm of old women just wouldn't stop coming. They were a tidal wave, ever increasing and ready to crash down. But if they were a tidal wave, Percy was a tsunami and the sword he flaunted was the drawback, a tell tale sign another was about to break.

Tell us, Perseus, what shall it be? Which curse will be your last?

"None!" He boomed as he swiped one of the arai with his blade and she burst into dust. Just as soon as she had, Nico heard a shout and he silently cursed to himself. "My eye's twitching! What the hell?"

"Don't kill them, Percy. They're curses. Every time you touch or kill one you're unleashing their specific curse. They're born of bad blood…" The words were a struggle to articulate between dodging and slashing without the intent to kill.

"So if we kill them we die."

"Yes."

"And if we don't… they kill us."

"Looks like it!" Nico added while a misplaced blow blew up the arai in front of him. He was bestowed the dying wish of a monster he'd killed back in Maine. One of the very first when he'd first shadow travelled and hadn't any control over where he landed or when he stopped. Somehow he'd wound up near his old boarding school and a giant (apparently quite plentiful in the forest as it made for good mating— the thought actually made him spew) had attempted to craft demigod stew. He'd escaped and killed it.

One of his legs gave out beneath him. Apparently the best it could come up with in its last moment was for his left leg to go completely pins and needles asleep tingly. "Zeus' thunderbolt," he grumbled forcing himself up. He could still walk and hobble but running was going to be out of the question lest he wind up face first in the dirt.

He called out for Bob, the masses pressing forward, buzzing in his ears. Percy was a machine, he could barely see him with teh way he cut down the arai. A new curse for each one and he kept going. Blood was pouring from his nose, he was clutching at his stomach, he was pretty sure he was also bleeding from his leg and a puncture to his shoulder but he was still going.

"Bob!" He shouted. "Bob, please help!"

"Bob hates curses," the other confirmed, shrinking back. For the most part the old women had let him alone.

Do not be so cruel as to bring him into this, half blood. He is cursed enough.

"Cursed?" Bob wondered.

And they told him. That Percy Jackson was responsible for the loss of his memory and his new identity. That he once had a life as something larger than the official Janitor of the Underworld.

Did he ever visit you once?

"No… n-no but the other did! Nico is my friend. He visited me always and told me stories. He kept me company when I was lonely." The Titan's voice grew strong and he wielded his broom as the younger demigods used their swords.

"Get away from me!" Percy shouted, perhaps half deaf from some other curse but it was impossible to hear. There were so many arai and they kept chattering about the ones that he picked and chose.

I have a special curse for you, son of the wrteched sea. Most curses are only bound by death but this one… made in life.

She had her bronze claws at his throat but Nico was too far away. Somehow he knew without any way of knowing how, but he just knew that Percy couldn't touch that one.

"Don't! Percy, you have to stop before they kill you! Please, don't!"

Shoving through some of them, another grabbed onto his shoulder and pierced the skin with her long bronze talons. Without thinking he pivoted and the Stygian blade cut her head clean from her body and she fractured into a cloud of monster particles. The more that fell, the more pressure in his head. Death pressed around him and the veil slipped making it harder to block out the true images of Tartarus. Slapping his hands to the side of his head he could feel the fallen curse settling into his bones.

Percy Jackson, it whispered.

"Please, Percy. Don't!" He clamoured as they descended. "Not that one!" But his cry wasn't heard.

The world tilted around him and everything went silent. Not the strange silence of Tartarus but the all encompassing silence of the jar. He could feel the pounding in his chest and the pressure on his lungs but even those didn't make any noise. Digging his fingernails into his head he squeezed his eyes shut and attempted to block everything else out attempting to force sounds back into his reality. But they were gone. All of them.

Percy Jackson when he sat in the cell of his father's kingdom cursed you with silence so you might know what it was like to truly be abandoned.

Dropping to his knees, he clutched at his ears, eyes brimming with tears.

No. No no no.

Before him Percy ripped through two more arai. Sea green eyes were swimming when they met Nico's and he could see it. The older demigod clutched at his chest and the strange whisper speak of the arai needn't be heard for him to know what one of those curses was. That ocean was haunted by the earth and fingers tearing at his chest desperately trying to calm his insides.

A curse from a ten year old boy fleeing camp half blood as he realised exactly what a boy with barnacles for brains meant to him and how betrayed he felt by the older boy's failures to live up to all of his idealisation. A broken heart wanting the other to know exactly what it felt like.

And the other? He could only guess, but the way blood frothed like sea foam from the other boy's mouth, it wasn't good.

Nico forced himself up clutching his sword as he turned to Bob, wiping at his eyes.

Please help, he tried to shout though there was no sound. He could have whispered it or failed to say anything at all. Please help, if our friendship has meant anything, I swear he is good. Please help.

Poseidon's son fell to the ground and his eyes were smooth as sea glass.