Of course they were going to eat him. Percy had deduced that when they began arguing about how to spice the stew. Apparently there was a bit of contention about whether or not one of them was allergic to garlic… According to his geriatric guard, his brother (who looked more like he belonged in a mosh pit at some festival where everyone was too cool to actually mosh because it would, like, ruin their outfit and the wax might melt from his totally ironic mustache and that would kill the whole look he was going for) wasn't but he liked to pretend that he shared some heritage with Dracula who had, for a brief time, resided in the House of Night. That was, of course, before Erebus took offense to his wife housing a consort and banished him. Why they felt the need to share all of this, Percy didn't know, but then again he supposed that was a trait of old people who were lonely— they just kept yapping.
Percy was a captive audience… literally he couldn't go anywhere.
He took to banging his head on the wall hoping for Riptide to return to his pocket but when he went feeling for the cool metal of it, there was nothing but lint and a piece of gum whose origin was entirely questionable. "Hey— you! Are you listening?" The cane was shoved between the bars and prodded him between his ribs earning a shout from him as he smacked it away. "No respect for your elders. Honestly, I'm full of stories. You could learn something from me, young man, if you bothered to listen for a moment. I'll have you know that we are planning a feast fit for a king— well, serving a king. You're a little on the puny side for me but we must work with what we are given."
"So did they decide on garlic in the end?" He bit back.
"Why, yes, we did— you're being sarcastic aren't you?" Milky eyes squinted at him through the dark, their cataract covered vision still seeming laser sharp as they focussed on him, following Percy with each pace around the cell. The look felt almost curious. Not like he was fluent in reading super elderly gods' expressions, or anything, but it looked something like constipation and extreme focus so he figured that was about right. And if it wasn't, well, apparently he was going to be made into stew shortly so it'd probably be one of the last mistakes he'd make in his short life. "I bet you think you're so clever."
"I've been accused of being a lot of things but clever had never been one of them." Percy fired back. It took him a moment to realize his snarky comment was more self-insulting than intended to be. Well, it is true. It's not like you're exactly the brains of the operation. Percy was self aware enough to know it to be true. Besides, he had other strengths, he told himself. If only one of them was finding a way out of this cell. Making explosives with nothing but rocks, dirt and part of a skeleton. Sorry, dude, I'd totally sacrifice you. The demigod glanced at his long expired cell mate and then back to the other.
"Philotes has gone to find the other demigod."
A voice announced from down the hallway.
"She's the worst," his guard groaned causing the other to laugh. From his cell Percy couldn't see more than a shadow being cast the length of the dusky hall from the firelight where they were preparing for their meal.
"Yes, well, he's in for a shock. I wouldn't be surprised if we don't get to count him as part of our supper for a few days… I believe she'll take her time with this one. She seems rather fond of him." Percy's stomach shrank about four sizes before turning over on itself. He didn't want to begin to understand what the goddess was implying but from the way that his guard was turning an unsettling green, it was probably exactly along the line of thought his brain wasn't willing to take itself.
"I imagine the meat will be far too tainted to consume."
"Oh you're no fun, old man. Live a little."
"Uhm excuse me." He piped up, tapping his fingers on the metal bars of his cell. The two glanced at him as if he had three heads. Apparently being interrupted by one of their captives was about as common as talking so blasé about what he assumed could only be the torture or rape (or both together) of a minor. Well, sort of eighty year old minor. Or something. The whole age thing when it came to Nico was confusing and frankly, a little unsettling, if you spent too much time focussing on it. "If you're going to slice me up can we just get to the part where we fight? I'm bored out of my skull."
Okay, so it wasn't exactly the best plan. In fact, it wasn't a plan at all. But what Percy Jackson did know was that waiting around as a prisoner in a cell in the belly of a mansion of night waiting to be eaten was not the way he wanted to go out. After crossing the majority of Tartarus, fighting off empousai, tangoing with a horde of curses tailor made just for him, nearly murdering Misery herself with her own snot and poison, he had had a pretty good run. In fact, it was pretty fucking impressive if he did say so himself. There was no way he was going to sit back and wait for them to get ready for him. No, his chances were better out of the cell no matter how many of them there were. So what if it was a dungeon? So what if he had no idea where he was or where Nico was? That was a larger picture problem and he only had the mind to deal with one issue at a time.
"Tell me, are you so eager to die?" The shadow grew larger and larger until finally the disembodied voice of a goddess stood before him. She made his eyes cross, like each time green eyes attempted to focus on her they slid a little to the right or a little to the left. Her features were beautiful but also nondescript, like the second that his gaze cast away he couldn't remember exactly what he had just seen beyond the dark robe that she wore with the hood that fell across her eyes. Her hair was long, but he couldn't have said much about the color, nor the pigment of her skin. But her eyes… her eyes froze something inside of him and he had to look away and she moved closer, still, and if he weren't half made of mist he was sure the the hairs on the back of his not-quite-zombie neck would be standing on end. Percy's hand found its way into his pocket hoping for the all too familiar feeling of Riptide in pen form where before he'd felt lint. With the familiar extension of his arm held in his hand, thumb posed on the edge of the cap, the son of Poseidon found his voice (and his spine) once more.
"Sitting in a cell waiting for a bunch of D-List gods and goddesses to make mincemeat out of me? Not exactly the death I was planning on. Call me old fashioned but I was hoping for something a little more challenging and a little less depressing." The grin on his face felt darker than it should have but if he was going to play a part, may as well commit. No time to worry and think about Nico… the son of Hades could take care of himself.
"I'm going to take my time with you," the old man flapped as he reached for the keys strung on his belt. Gnarled fingers fumbled with them until he shoved one into the cell and unlocked the door.
It was a narrow hall and they had the advantage but he didn't wait for them to press forward. The moment that the geriatric god was swinging the door open, he was pulling Riptide from his pocket, popping off the cap and using the forming of the blade to knock the god from his feet, launching himself over with a step on what was probably the god's spine (there was a definite cry of pain and something popping… he could only imagine the telling off he'd get from his mom if she'd seen him disrespecting the elderly like that). "I don't think you'll be doing a whole lot of anything, grandpa." As he jumped off the back of his fallen captor, Percy used his forward momentum to spring forward towards the cell directly across, bouncing off of it and up the wall to give him a larger arc to swing his sword in the direction of the dark robed goddess.
Apparently those robes were good for something more than being super creepy and a little disturbing— like, trying to look like a Sith lord much?— because she pulled a dark handled blade with a wicked curved edge so white it was nearly blinding in the dark of the dungeon. As gravity finally took hold of Percy, he decided he wouldn't like to have that pressed anywhere near his throat. Their blades clanked together and she used the curved edge as a means of directing the follow through, throwing his weight to the side, but he'd anticipated it so he used the wall to push back off once more and came at her again, this time slicing through her robes and knocking the flat of her blade with the edge of his, causing it to clatter from her hands.
"I don't normally recommend bringing a knife to a sword fight."
"Maybe… but it has its purposes." She smiled at him and glanced to his side causing him to pause just long enough to look down at his arm. At some point she had nicked him and the mist that had acted as their guise was gone. A bead of blood welled up from the cut and he glanced back up to see the goddess cackle. As hard as he tried to focus on her, to take in her features, to gage where the next threat would come from, it was like holding two of the same magnets near one another: his gaze would slide to the side and he'd forget exactly what she had looked like despite being so close. Percy slashed and swiped at her, but she side stepped, moved backwards, ducked with a speed and grace that was almost dainty… it set his teeth on edge.
"Stop running and fight me!" But the goddess laughed at him again and side stepped yet another swipe. Percy was growing tired; being made of mist he had been weightless and now, with his true physical form once more, he felt too big. It was a little like having lead weights tied around each of his limbs. It made him slower and took more energy. Riptide might as well have gained fifty pounds. The son of the sea was in amazing physical shape— he trained even when he wasn't at camp because who honestly knew when a monster would show up or the world would be at risk again?— but Tartarus was taking its toll on him. Each time the goddess side stepped his anger flared until he was seeing red. A growl grew in his throat as he moved faster, pushing himself to hit harder and faster, when he heard a noise behind him. Her brother, Percy remembered, although gnarled with age must have finally grabbed his walker and pulled himself to his feet. Percy twirled and stabbed forward, both hands holding firmly to the grip of his sword. The celestial bronze slid through skin as if it were no more than paper.
Percy's eyes went wide, his hands releasing their grip on the hilt. The tips of his fingers were like ice, numbness coursing its way from his fingers to his arms and up his arms. Geras wasn't the one with ichor burbling up from his mouth as he clutched at his stomach where Riptide protruded. In fact, the geezer god wasn't anywhere to be seen. No, green eyes met deep brown ones flecked with hazel and black that looked as stunned as Percy felt. "N-nico?" The name felt foreign on his lips as the sea prince spoke it… it tasted different and the weight wasn't quite right. Behind him there was laughter but he ignored the grating sound of the goddess' voice as he took a step forward, his throat constricting. "I didn't… I didn't know it was you." The words did nothing, but he rested his hand on the other boy's shoulder. It's the briefest touch of his fingertips and Nico might as well be on unsteady footing because with the touch his knees fall out from beneath him and he landed on the floor.
This isn't real.
Everything was in slow motion. Percy fell to the floor beside him. His friend's lips parted and where there should have been words there was a sick wet noise, not quite a gurgling, and dark blood dripped passed lips that struggled to make a sound. Brown eyes fell then to see the sword for the first time, to take in what Percy had done to him. Blood blossomed from the wound and it must have been the shock that did it because Nico's pale fingers curled around the blade itself and began to tug. The metal must have bit at his palms but Riptide was too awkward an angle for the son of Hades to reach the hilt and work it out of his stomach that way. For a moment Percy does nothing but blink, watching dumbfounded, before he pushes himself to action.
"No— no, Nico. You can't. You'll bleed out faster."
It didn't take much effort to unwrap Nico's hand from the blade, and soon his hand is covered in blood. "We need to get you out of here, okay? The river! If we can get you to the river and you drink everything will be fine. We can get you out of here, okay?"
Laughter had never been so dark or wet before, but there's a rasping in the other's chest as Nico laughed. His eyes met Percy's and the son of Poseidon stilled. "You have to know that's too far." The words are more whispered than spoken. The gaze burned him, razor sharp, it saw through Percy. That look… he'd seen it before. Nico had been much younger then and Percy had returned without the one person the boy needed the most. Invisible fingers closed around his windpipe and Percy struggled to bring in a breath as he kneeled floundering like a fish out of water near the other.
No. No, this isn't possible. This can't be real.
"I'm so sorry, Nico."
"Just like you were sorry about Bianca?"
The name cuts deeply and it was Percy's turn to gape at the other. "Nico—"
"For a hero, you sure get a lot of people killed." Nico laughed again, but it cut off into the sort of choking that meant he had to spit (it was more blood than saliva). The weight was too much then. Percy was a marionette and his strings were cut as he dropped next to Nico his hand hovering just above touching the other demigod. "You won't have to feel guilty about forgetting about me ever again."
"I never wanted that! Nico, I wanted to be your friend. You were the one who always left me."
"You never gave me a reason to stay."
Tears blurred Percy's vision and his chest heaved as his fingers stroked along the other boy's arm. It wasn't untrue. When had he ever given him anything concrete? Anything worth holding onto? Oh, sure, it hadn't been his intention but what did that matter? Percy couldn't fill his lungs no matter how hard he tried. "I'm… I'm so sorry." Their surroundings were lost to him until the goddess cackled. "I want to give you a r—."
"You are a fool, Percy Jackson." The goddess chuckled over his shoulder.
Nico cackled, joining her as blood poured faster from his middle and his mouth. When he blinks the vision of his friend disappeared and Geras appeared before him with a mallet in his gnarled hand. Riptide was on the floor, harmless, and Nico was never there. It had always been a trick. A tear trickles down his cheek and despite the trouble he's in, Percy was a certain kind of relieved even as the mallet connected with his skull and everything went black.