So...instead of actual progression, you get 2,000 or so words of Nico musing on his connection to the Underworld.
Well, this wasn't the original intention, but it worked out fine. And it gives me more time to consider the actual "mission" at hand. Speaking of which, I'm more than open to suggestions on that (actually, I really need the help)!
So, hope you enjoy and don't forget to leave a review!
Was it strange to find the Underworld so comforting despite all the bad memories?
It was confusing, the way the Underworld was somehow still a paradise and a reminder of a horrible time in my life. How could I possibly be so content now, folded up in front of a blue-tinged campfire on the shores of the Styx?
It was strange, right? Wrong, even?
Probably.
Because who could possibly like it down here?
Not many people ever got to see if before, well, dying. Only a handful of old Greek heroes, and only a handful of new ones. So it was usually just associated with fear and dying and misery and all those awful things. Nobody ever wanted to be there. Well, except for me. Not even Hazel liked it all that much, too many bad memories of the almost eternity spent in Asphodel. Still, she could tolerate it better than most others.
It freaked them out too much.
It was strange, how much I'd missed it without realizing it. I hadn't been here in so long, not since the unfortunate jar incident. And even before that, I hadn't stayed down here for any length of time, just quick visits to my father and some information brokering with ghosts. I'd mostly split my time between Camp Jupiter, acclimating Hazel to her new life, and trying to track down Percy when he'd been missing.
The last time I'd spent more than a few days in the murky depths was...was after I ran away. After Bianca was lost in the Junkyard I'd never visited, after I fell apart and lashed out at the only person I loved.
It should remind of that time I hated thinking about. And not even for the expected reasons.
I mean, my grieving period was something to be anticipated. It had hurt like mad. I'd felt like I'd been torn in two, and it had taken a long time to get over. Only very recently did I start coping with it, with the reality of Bianca being gone for good, reincarnated and already living a new life without me. Having Hazel certainly helped with that, she was a true blessing.
So no, the grieving wasn't it. I still hurt sometimes, still thought about Bianca on occasion. But it was gradually starting to hurt less.
I was getting better.
And the Underworld itself had never been so bad. I'd gotten used to the smell of sulfur and the oppressive darkness and the occasional moans of damned souls. I'd gotten used to the loneliness too, the feeling of being surrounded by nothing but subservient ghosts.
I felt at home here, after all. Just like Percy felt at home by the water and how Jason felt at home high up in air. It was my domain, but it was so very different from theirs.
Because everyone could find beauty in Poseidon's and Zeus' domains. Most people could look out into the ocean and find the way the sun bounced off the choppy waves absolutely gorgeous. They could find wonder in it's vast, untamed depths. People loved sunsets and clouds. People dreamed of flying like birds.
The sky and the sea? Undeniably beautiful.
It was so easy for the two of them, to find a place where they felt at home, where they truly belonged. And while people could, of course, find fear in thuderstorms and dark water, they were outweighed by all the nature lovers out there.
Who could possibly find death so beautiful, besides poser goths and the occasional poet?
Well, I'd managed to find beauty in a place where beauty seemed unimaginable. I found beauty in the shadows, in the crumbling black cliffs and smoking fields. My father's palace, all black stone and bronze and bone, held it's own beauty too, unlike the metallic spires of Olympus or the shimmering towers of Poseidon's palace. The obsidian walls, delicately carved with admittedly gruesome scenes of death and destruction, were still well-crafted. The palace was beautiful in it's own right, albeit in a very macabre way. Persephone's garden were, perhaps, the only classically beautiful place, despite the fact that traditional flowers never bloomed. But the Goddess of Spring made up for it, with large amounts of pomegranate trees, always bearing perfectly ripe fruits, and glimmering jewels shaped like beautiful. Mounds of gold were piled haphazardly throughout, adjacent to the creepily smiling, Medusa-created statues of children and fawns. It was the only place Hazel enjoyed, even more so after having her curse removed when the war ended.
And my time spent in the Underworld had been a positive thing when it came down to my skills. It had given me time to train with the masterful heroes of old. I'd gotten a chance to realize the full potential of my powers, learned how to manipulate shadows and ghosts and more. Percy had never gotten that chance, he'd had to figure out his limits on his own, find creative ways to use his gods given powers. Jason was the same way, and frankly, he'd had to do it twice before he'd slowly regained his memory. I'd found my faithful Stygian iron sword too, a weapon I would't likely part with. I'd even met my father, and I probably had a "stronger" relationship with him than most demigods could boast. Some demigods saw their parents from time to time, but I'd more or less lived in my father's domain indefinitely. Hell, I even had my own room in his palace. At least he had direct reasons to use me, at least I got to see him unlike so many others.
So the Underworld had proven a good place for me. Quiet and dark and primal. It had given me time to think. I would spend hours on the rocky shores of the Styx, just staring into the brackish waters and thinking. Thinking about Percy, about Bianca and my father and my mother. Thinking about my past, who I was and who I was somehow destined to be. It had been almost meditative.
It had given me a newfound power. I'd been so weak before going down there. Just a little kid, a stupid little kid that didn't know how to fight. But down there? Down there, I was never Nico di Angelo, the annoying, hyper-active little kid that just bothered everyone with stupid stats for an equally as stupid card game.
In the Underworld, I became the Ghost King. I held an impossible power I could never have imagined.
So no, the Underworld itself had been a positive thing, it had given me power and time alone and a place of beauty that only I could truly admire.
The real reason I didn't like to think about that time of my life?
Because I was ashamed. Ashamed about how I'd acted, how I'd treated Percy.
I'd built him up impossibly high. From the moment I first laid eyes on him, he was my hero. The physical embodiment of my favorite card game. Even as Bianca held me tightly against her chest, trembling, I'd gasped in awe at his sheer power.
If there was such a thing as love at first sight, that was it.
And the "silly" crush had only gotten stronger. Seeing him in full bronze regalia, wielding Riptide in one hand and a heavy-looking shield in the other, had been one tipping point. All the stories the Stoll brothers told me about his adventures had been another.
By the time he came back, I was so hopelessly in love with someone I barely knew that it sort of freaked me out. Liking boys was wrong, right?
Nevertheless, I'd been so excited when he came back. I'd been absolutely elated. I would get to see my hero again, and maybe I would even get to see Bianca before she went away again.
I'd been so stupidly wrong on so many different levels.
I couldn't have possibly known that Bianca would've died on that quest, but I should've at least considered it. Becoming a demigod was reality check enough. But no, I'd been so convinced that Percy, my knight in shining armor, would keep her safe and sound. How could such an incredible hero possibly fail?
But he had "failed" at least in my eyes at the time.
And it had torn me in two. Absolutely decimated me.
And I'd lashed out, stupidly and without reason. I managed to stop myself from hurting Percy, but every time I sat in the dining pavilion, my eyes were always drawn to the fissure I'd created.
And it was all for nothing.
Because he had never once deserved my anger. It wasn't his fault, Bianca had chosen to sacrifice herself. She'd chosen to become a Hunter, she'd abandoned me, really. She'd made her choices, and Percy had absolutely nothing to do with them.
I'd hurt him. Hurt him for no reason other than I was scared and angry at myself for liking someone who was obviously such a monster.
And it took me a long time to realize how much I'd actually hurt him.
Because he wasn't a monster, nor was he a knight in shining armor. I'd built him up as such a magical figure in my mind, when in reality, he was just a scared kid. Just like me.
An entire prophecy, the fate of the world itself, had been thrust upon him at the age of twelve, and he was expected to be a hero. He was expected to be better, to constantly be getting stronger and faster and wiser. He was expected to be a fearless leader. He was expected to know what to do.
So he'd built up a mask, the mask of a hero, and made sure that that mask was all people ever saw. He internalized all the pressure, all the potential for catastrophic failure and fear of the future. Nobody ever saw the real Percy Jackson, the broken, scared boy underneath the mask. He made sure that no one ever realized how much failure bothered him. He made sure no one saw his fear.
Annabeth had come the closest to removing the mask and seeing the real Percy. But I was the one to actually accomplish it. Me, one of the very people that had forced him to build up the mask in the first place.
But over the past few months, he'd removed the last few shreds of the cracked and tattered mask, shared with me the past he'd never shared with anyone else. He'd told me all about the bullies, all the people that had made fun of him for something he couldn't control. He'd told me about Gabe, about how small and stupid the awful man had made him feel. He'd told me about the few and far between beatings and slaps that even Sally didn't know about.
And he'd unleashed the pressure, sobbed over all the deaths and utter failures he felt responsible for.
Bianca, Zoe, Beckendorf, Silena, Ethan, Luke, Damasen, Bob. Not to mention the scores of halfblood warriors that died in battles that Percy hadn't been strong enough to just end.
And me.
He'd kept it well-hidden, and he'd pushed it deep down and ignored it most of the time, but he felt like he'd failed me in some way. He blamed himself for Bianca's death, even though it wasn't his fault, and blamed himself for the way I'd turned out. He thought I still hated him because I'd constantly pushed him away and avoided him.
Because if Bianca was still around, things be different. I would be different.
Now I was just trying to deal with that guilt.
Because I'd been so painfully stupid, so needlessly selfish in the past. I'd acted like a child, avoided him and hurt him because I was petty and vindictive.
I hadn't realized how much it had hurt him, losing me and knowing that he'd effectively destroyed my life.
A sooner visit to this world would have been more painful, would've only reminded me of how much I'd hurt Percy.
But I was different now. I realized my mistakes. I was mature. I realized that his happiness was far more important than mine. I dealt with the pain of knowing that he would never love me the way I loved him in my own ways. I accepted the fact that he needed me, he needed the assurance that I wasn't another failure, that I was okay.
The Underworld was a different place now. While it reminded me of a terrible time, of horrible feelings, I could start getting over that now. It was becoming less and less attached to that time in my life.
Because things were finally changing for the better. Percy was alright again, he wasn't mad or worried about me any longer. He wasn't hiding behind the mask either. I finally knew the real him. He needed me to feel safe, and it was so incredible to finally feel needed by someone other than a god.
The Underworld was a good place now, not associated with any bad memory even though it probably should be, and all because Percy loved me, albeit in his own, weird way.