The Prince of the Underworld

by kurenohikari

Being on the run from monsters was not something Nico had been expecting to do in his life. For all his love for Mythomagik, Nico had never believed the cards to be based on real life events. Who would ever expect myths to be real? It was madness! What made everything worse was the fact that Nico was following four ghosts. Nico was sure he was losing his mind.

32. ACT III – PART IX

The reconstruction of Camp Half-Blood was nothing short of miraculous—or at least that's what everyone was saying. Nico di Angelo had pulled off a feat that should've taken months in just two weeks. Of course, it helped when you had a whole army of zombies at your disposal, courtesy of dear old Dad. The undead labor force had been put to work immediately, their tireless efforts rebuilding cabins, reinforcing defenses, and fixing the damage caused by the attack.

It was kind of weird, seeing zombies hammering nails and hauling wood around like some kind of spooky construction crew, but after the initial shock, most of the campers just rolled with it. After all, it wasn't every day you got to see the dead doing home improvement.

But it wasn't just the zombies. The Hecate kids had jumped in with their magic, weaving spells that made the work go even faster. They enchanted tools to work on their own, summoned resources out of thin air, and even used a few weather spells to keep the skies clear and sunny while the repairs were underway. Nico had also left the zombie army behind to guard the camp, giving them strict orders to patrol day and night. No one wanted a repeat of the last attack, and with the undead on watch, the campers could finally sleep a little easier.

Nico himself was… well, to say he was in demand would be an understatement. The Elysium Prep students were practically glued to his side, eager to be near their Ghost King and offer their help in any way they could. They followed him around like he was some kind of celebrity—which, in their world, he pretty much was. But it wasn't just them. Even the regular campers had started gravitating toward Nico, curious about the Underworld and grateful for everything he'd done to protect the camp.

Connor and Travis Stoll, always looking for a new angle or scheme, had taken a particular liking to Nico, peppering him with questions about what it was like to be the son of Hades and if he could teach them some "cool Underworld tricks." William Solace, always warm and friendly, had made it his personal mission to make sure Nico wasn't overworking himself, dragging him away for breaks and offering him snacks whenever he could. Katie Gardner had also been hovering nearby, not quite sure how to express her gratitude but doing her best to show it through small acts of kindness—like bringing Nico fresh water or cleaning up after the zombies when they left a mess.

It was… overwhelming, to say the least. As much as Nico appreciated the support, it was starting to wear on him. He could feel the pressure building, the weight of everyone's expectations pressing down on him. He wasn't good at being the center of attention—he preferred the shadows, where he could do what needed to be done without anyone watching too closely.

So, when he finally managed to slip away from the crowd, Nico headed for the one place he knew he could get some peace—the lake. The sound of the waves had always been soothing to him, a reminder that even though he didn't have the sea in his blood like Percy, he could still find comfort in its endless rhythm. But as he approached the shoreline, he saw that he wasn't alone.

Silena Beauregard was sitting on the sand, her knees pulled up to her chest, her shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. It was a rare sight—Silena was usually so put together, always smiling, always kind. Seeing her like this, so vulnerable, made Nico hesitate. He wasn't exactly great at comforting people—emotional stuff wasn't his strong suit—but he couldn't just leave her there either.

"Silena?" he called out softly, taking a few steps closer. "Are you okay?"

Silena jumped slightly at the sound of his voice, quickly wiping her eyes as if she could hide the fact that she'd been crying. She looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes and a shaky smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Oh, hey, Nico. I'm… I'm fine. Just… you know, a lot on my mind."

Nico frowned, not buying it for a second. "Is it Charles?" he asked gently, assuming that her tears had something to do with her boyfriend. Charles Beckendorf was on the quest with Percy and Clarisse, and it made sense that Silena would be worried about him. "I'm sure he's okay. Percy's with him, and you know Percy—he'll have Charles's back."

Silena shook her head, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. "Yeah… yeah, I know Percy will take care of him. It's not that. Or… it's not just that."

Nico's frown deepened. Something was definitely off. "Then what is it?" he asked, his voice soft but firm. "You can tell me, Silena. Whatever it is, I'll listen."

For a long moment, Silena didn't say anything. She just stared out at the waves, her expression conflicted, like she was battling with herself over whether or not to speak. Finally, she let out a long, shaky breath and turned to look at Nico, her eyes filled with a mix of guilt and desperation.

"Nico… what do you think about traitors?"

The question hit Nico like a punch to the gut, his stomach twisting with unease. That was the last thing he'd expected her to ask, and the implications were enough to send his mind racing. He studied her carefully, trying to figure out what she was really asking. Was this about Charles? Had something happened between them? Or was it… something more?

"Traitors?" Nico repeated cautiously, his voice steady despite the tension coiling in his chest. "Well… I think it depends. If someone betrays your trust, it's hard to earn it back. But it's not impossible. It can be done if the person truly regrets what they've done and is willing to make amends."

Silena bit her lip, her eyes filling with tears again as she listened to his words. For a moment, Nico thought she was going to break down completely, but she somehow held it together, nodding weakly as if his answer had confirmed something for her.

"Thanks, Nico," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I… I needed to hear that."

She stood up abruptly, brushing the sand off her clothes, and without another word, she turned and walked away, leaving Nico standing there on the beach, his mind reeling. He watched her retreating form, a heavy feeling of dread settling in his chest.

Something was definitely wrong, and Nico couldn't shake the feeling that it went far beyond a simple relationship issue. The way she'd asked about traitors, the way she'd looked at him… it was like she was carrying a burden that was too heavy for her to bear.

As much as Nico wanted to believe that Silena was just worried about Charles, he couldn't ignore the gnawing suspicion that there was more to the story. A lot more. And it terrified him to think about what that might mean.

The camp was finally being rebuilt, the defenses were up, and the threat of another attack seemed distant—but Nico knew better than to let his guard down. There was a storm brewing, and he could feel it in his bones. He just hoped that whatever secrets Silena was hiding wouldn't tear them all apart before they had a chance to see the light of day.

As Nico stood alone on the lake, the sound of the waves crashing against the shore, he couldn't help but send a silent prayer to Hades, hoping that whatever was coming, they'd be strong enough to face it. Because something told him that the hardest battles were still ahead—and they weren't just going to be fought with swords and magic.

With his responsibilities at camp taken care of—for now, at least—Nico finally gave in to the tugging in his chest that had been there for days. He needed a break, and more than that, he needed to see a certain blonde Roman demigod who always seemed to know how to make everything feel a little less heavy.

He also needed a distraction from whatever dark secrets Silena was keeping.

So, with a tired sigh, Nico called for Mrs. O'Leary, his massive black hellhound, who bounded over with her usual enthusiasm, her tail wagging like a wrecking ball. "Ready for a trip, girl?" Nico asked, scratching behind her ears. Mrs. O'Leary barked happily in response, her shadowy form already beginning to blend into the darkness.

"Let's go, then," Nico murmured, steeling himself for the sensation of shadow travel. With a command, he and Mrs. O'Leary plunged into the shadows, the world around them dissolving into a blur of darkness.

They emerged in New Rome, the heart of the Roman demigod world, on the steps of a small, cozy café that Nico knew well. The transition from the dark, oppressive atmosphere of the shadows to the sunlit, peaceful streets of New Rome was always jarring, but Nico had grown used to it. The scent of freshly baked goods and the sound of soft chatter greeted him as he stepped onto the cobblestone path, and for the first time in weeks, he felt a little bit of the tension in his shoulders ease.

Mrs. O'Leary, ever the affectionate giant, nuzzled his side before bounding off to explore the nearby gardens, her massive paws leaving faint scorch marks on the grass. Nico watched her go with a small smile before pushing open the door to the café.

Inside, the place was warm and inviting, with the smell of cocoa and sugar hanging in the air. The soft hum of conversation was soothing, and the clinking of cups against saucers provided a pleasant backdrop. And there, sitting at a corner table with a cup of hot cocoa and a plate of brownies in front of him, was Jason Grace, looking every bit as golden and perfect as Nico remembered.

Jason's face lit up when he saw Nico, his blue eyes sparkling with warmth. "Hey, Nico," he greeted, waving him over. "You're just in time. I wasn't sure if you'd make it."

Nico slipped into the chair across from him, trying to ignore the flutter in his chest at seeing Jason again. It was ridiculous, really, how just being near Jason made everything feel a little less like the world was on fire. "Sorry I'm late," Nico said, running a hand through his hair. "I had to make sure everything was secure before I left."

Jason nodded, his expression understanding. "Don't worry about it. I know you've been busy. How's everything holding up?"

Nico hesitated for a moment, debating how much to share. As much as he trusted Jason, there were some things he couldn't talk about—especially when it involved Camp Half-Blood. "It's… better now," he said carefully. "We had a bit of a situation, but it's under control. I just couldn't leave until I knew everyone was safe."

Jason sipped his cocoa, his gaze steady on Nico. "I get it. You've got a lot on your shoulders. But you don't have to do it all alone, you know."

Nico shrugged, trying to play it off. "It's fine. I'm used to it."

Jason didn't push, but Nico could tell he wanted to say more. Instead, Jason changed the subject, leaning back in his chair with a smile. "Anyway, enough about that. You've been MIA for two weeks, and I've got a lot to catch you up on."

Nico raised an eyebrow, grateful for the distraction. "Oh yeah? What's been going on in your world?"

Jason's smile widened, and he reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a neatly folded letter. He handed it to Nico, who took it with a curious look. "What's this?"

"Letter of recommendation," Jason said, a hint of pride in his voice. "From Bellona herself."

Nico blinked, taken aback. Bellona, the Roman Goddess of War, didn't just hand out recommendations to anyone. "What did you do to impress her?"

Jason's grin was sheepish as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Remember how I told you I was on a quest to find the missing Eagle of the Twelfth Legion?"

Nico nodded. The Eagle was a big deal—a symbol of the Legion's power and unity. Losing it was a huge disgrace, and finding it again was the kind of thing that could make or break a demigod's career.

"Well," Jason continued, "I found it. It wasn't easy, and there were a few close calls, but I managed to bring it back. Bellona was… impressed, I guess. Said I showed leadership, bravery, all that good stuff." He gestured to the letter. "So, she wrote me that."

Nico unfolded the letter, scanning the elegant script. Bellona's praise was high indeed, and it was clear she thought Jason was something special. Not that Nico needed a letter to tell him that—he'd known it since the moment he met Jason. But seeing it in writing made it all the more real.

"That's… wow," Nico said, handing the letter back with a genuine smile. "Congratulations, Jason. That's a huge deal."

Jason took the letter, his cheeks flushing slightly at the compliment. "Thanks. It was a tough quest, but I'm glad I could bring the Eagle home. The Legion needed a win."

Nico nodded, but something about the timing of Jason's quest nagged at him. He'd been so busy with everything at Camp Half-Blood that he hadn't had time to really think about it, but now, sitting here with Jason, the pieces started to come together.

"So," Nico said slowly, "you've been on a pretty big quest, huh? During the year?"

Jason nodded, not picking up on Nico's tone. "Yeah, it took up most of my time. But it was worth it. Why do you ask?"

Nico hesitated, not sure how much he should say. It's just feels like the gods are keeping Jason busy during the year and keeping Percy busy during the summer. Almost as if it is intentional. The gods work in weird ways. Maybe they're trying to keep the two apart, keep them both focused on different things.

Nico shook his head and said out loud. "I don't know. Just… keep an eye out, okay? The Gods don't do anything without a reason."

Jason nodded slowly, clearly mulling over Nico's words. "Yeah… I will. Thanks, Nico."

Nico offered a small, tired smile, leaning back in his chair. "No problem. Just… be careful. We've all got enough on our plates without the Gods messing with us even more."

Jason chuckled, though there was a hint of unease in his voice. "Tell me about it. But hey, at least we've got each other, right?"

Nico's smile widened just a bit. "Yeah. At least we've got that."

As they sipped their cocoa and nibbled on brownies, the worries of quests, gods, and the ever-present threat of danger seemed to fade into the background. The two of them lapsed into a comfortable silence, the weight of their conversation hanging in the air but not suffocating. It was moments like this—sitting with a friend, sharing a quiet moment—that made all the chaos and darkness in Nico's life feel a little more bearable.

Later that day, when Nico finally arrived at his villa in New Rome, after saying bidding Jason goodnight, he let out a long, tired breath. The day had been exhausting—between rebuilding Camp Half-Blood and dealing with the myriads of issues that came with being the son of Hades, he was more than ready for a little peace and quiet. The villa was his sanctuary, a place where he could escape the chaos of both the Greek and Roman worlds, even if just for a few hours.

But as Nico pushed open the heavy door and stepped inside, he barely had time to drop his bag before an Iris Message hologram appeared before him. Nico's heart skipped a beat, a mix of worry and something else—something he wasn't quite ready to name—flaring up inside him.

He swiped to answer, but before he could even get a word in, Percy's voice came through the line, frantic and breathless. "Nico, we've got a problem!"

Nico's frown deepened. "Percy? What's going on?"

There was a loud crash in the background, followed by the unmistakable sound of water splashing and swords clashing. Nico's senses went on high alert. He could hear the wind howling, the creak of steel under pressure—Percy was in the middle of a battle, and it sounded like things were not going well.

"We're under attack!" Percy shouted, his voice strained. "Ghosts—again! I thought we got rid of them, but they're back, and they're pissed!"

Nico's blood ran cold. "Ghosts?" His voice dropped an octave, dark and dangerous. "Percy, what happened? Start from the beginning."

Percy cursed under his breath, and Nico heard the unmistakable sound of Riptide slicing through something—or someone. "Clarisse got this ship from Ares," Percy began, dodging another attack. "It's full of the souls of soldiers from the losing side of some old war. They tried to take over the ship a while back, but we managed to drive them off. I thought we'd beaten them, but now they're back—and they're not taking no for an answer."

Nico could feel the anger bubbling up inside him as he listened to Percy explain the situation on the other end of the line. The idea that Ares—Ares, of all gods—had any kind of control over the dead was like a slap to the face. The dead were his domain, Hades' domain, and the fact that the war god had somehow meddled with it, even partially, was enough to make Nico's blood boil.

"You've got to be kidding me," Nico hissed, his voice low and dangerous. He could feel his hands curling into fists, his knuckles turning white as he tried to keep his temper in check. "Ares? Ares is controlling those ghosts?"

"Uh, yeah, that's what I said," Percy replied, his voice crackling through the connection as he dodged another attack. "But they're not exactly following orders. They're more like… free agents who are really pissed off."

Nico's jaw clenched, and he could feel the heat rising in his chest. The sheer audacity of it all made his head spin. Ares, the God of War, thought he could just waltz into the Underworld's business and start playing puppet master with souls? Souls that were supposed to be resting—okay, maybe not peacefully, but definitely under his watch?

Nico's voice dropped into a deadly calm as he started to rant, unable to hold back any longer. "The nerve of that arrogant, muscle-brained, spear-waving psychopath! Who does he think he is, trying to control the dead? The dead aren't his playthings to use in his stupid war games. They belong to the Underworld—to me and my father. The fact that he even tried to bind those souls without finishing the job just shows how reckless and incompetent he is! Does he have any idea what he's messing with? He's not just crossing a line, he's practically dancing on the grave of every rule that governs the Underworld!"

Nico's rant gained momentum, fueled by a deep-seated anger that had been simmering for a while. "Ares thinks he's so powerful, that just because he's the god of war, he can trample over everything else. But he's nothing more than a thug with a title. He doesn't understand the dead—he doesn't respect them. He just wants to use them, like he uses everything else, and then toss them aside when he's done. Well, not on my watch."

Nico could feel his anger turning into something darker, a cold fury that chilled the air around him. "He has no right—no right—to even think about controlling those souls. And the fact that he couldn't even do it properly? That's not just an insult, it's a threat. To me, to my father, and to the balance of the entire Underworld. If he thinks I'm going to stand by and let him play warlord with the dead, he's got another thing coming."

Before Nico could continue, Clarisse's voice cut through the Iris Message with a sharp edge. "Nico, we don't have time for your rant! Focus, or we're all going to be ghost chow!"

Nico blinked, momentarily thrown off balance by her interruption. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to push the anger aside—at least for now. Clarisse was right. They had bigger problems to deal with at the moment, like making sure Percy, Clarisse, and their crew didn't end up as a snack for the very ghosts Ares had set loose.

He coughed, trying to regain his composure. "Right. Sorry. I just—this whole thing is infuriating. But you're right. We need to focus."

Nico quickly shifted gears, his tone becoming more focused and serious as he explained what they needed to do. But the anger was still there, simmering beneath the surface, a reminder that this wasn't over. Ares had crossed a line, and Nico wasn't about to let that slide. The war god might be used to getting his way, but Nico was going to make damn sure that when it came to the dead, Ares would learn just how dangerous it was to mess with the son of Hades.

"Percy," Nico said, his voice firm, "you didn't listen to my lessons on ghosts, did you?"

There was a pause on the other end, and Nico could practically feel Percy's sheepishness through the phone. "Uh, well… I thought I did?"

Nico sighed, rubbing his temples. "Ghosts aren't like other monsters. You can't just hit them with a sword and expect them to stay down. What you did before—driving them off—you didn't defeat them. You just weakened them temporarily. They're not going to stay down unless you finish the job with necromancy. And since I'm not there to do it for you, we need a different approach."

Clarisse, who had been fending off a particularly aggressive ghost in the background, snapped, "We don't have time for a lecture, di Angelo! What do we do?"

Nico's mind raced as he considered their options. Ares hadn't fully completed the passage of control over these spirits, which explained why they were rebelling. They were caught between two masters, angry and confused. But that also meant there was a way to shift control from Ares to Clarisse—who, as Ares's daughter, had the closest connection to them.

"Okay, listen up," Nico said, his tone all business now. "What you need to do is perform a ritual to transfer the control of the souls from Ares to Clarisse. Since Ares didn't finish binding them, it shouldn't be too difficult—but you need to do it fast, before they tear your ship apart."

"Ritual?" Percy echoed, dodging another ghostly strike. "How do we do that?"

Nico's voice was calm, steady, as he laid out the instructions. "You'll need some of Clarisse's blood—just a drop will do. She needs to offer it willingly. Then you'll need to find the spot on the ship where Ares' influence is strongest—probably somewhere on the bridge or near the helm. Once you're there, draw a small circle on the ground with her blood and have Clarisse speak these words: 'I claim what is mine by blood and bone, by the strength of Ares, by the will of war.'"

Nico paused, making sure they were following. "As she says this, she needs to focus on her connection to Ares, on her right as his daughter. She's not just asking for control—she's demanding it. The spirits will feel that, and they'll have no choice but to obey."

Clarisse, who had managed to push back her spectral opponent, shot a glance at Percy. "You got that?"

Percy nodded, his grip on Riptide tightening. "Got it. We'll do it."

"Good," Nico said, feeling a small measure of relief. "Once the ritual is complete, the ghosts should recognize Clarisse as their new master. They won't be able to attack you anymore, and they'll follow her orders."

"Thanks, Nico," Percy said, his voice filled with genuine gratitude. "We couldn't do this without you."

"Just… be careful," Nico replied, his concern bleeding through despite his best efforts to sound detached. "And don't let your guard down. Even when you think you've won."

Clarisse grunted in agreement, clearly eager to get started. "Let's go, Jackson. We've got some ghosts to put in their place."

Nico watched as the Iris Message flickered, giving him one last glimpse of Percy's determined expression before the connection cut off. For a moment, he stood there in the quiet of his villa, the weight of everything that had just happened pressing down on him. He knew they were capable—they'd faced worse before and come out on top—but that didn't stop the gnawing worry in his gut.

After a few deep breaths, Nico forced himself to move. As he went about the villa, checking in with the spirits that served as his eyes and ears in New Rome, his mind kept drifting back to Silena and the strange conversation they'd had on the lake. He couldn't shake the feeling that something big was looming on the horizon, something that connected everything—the ghosts, Ares, Silena's cryptic questions about traitors.

Nico could only hope that when the time came, they'd all be ready. Because if there was one thing, he'd learned from being the son of Hades, it was that the dead never stayed buried for long.

And neither did their secrets.