I yawned, stretching my arms above my head as I woke up. I half expected to find myself in a cabin with several empty bunks, but nope, no bunks, no cabin. The only thing around me was a cliff to doom, an empty wasteland, and a girl cuddled into my side.

Wait.

What?

So, sometime when I was asleep, we ended up laying against each other. It was a bit weird, though, because I was barefoot, stuck in a tattered orange tee, and my shorts were held together by hopes and dreams.

Not that I'm complaining. Honestly, I now understood where all of those PDA couples in highschool were coming from. They might have been weird for sucking tongue in the hallways and snuggling during lunch, but hey, they were onto something.

Cuddling is nice, apparently. My atypical highschool life made it so that I never had a girl to try it with.

Not like I have much highschool experience—I'm a dropout by virtue of being a statue for a Time Lord, and I don't mean Doctor Who.

My capabilities in life are truly astounding. I can lob the heads off of monsters, but I can't count higher than ten. I can change the weather, but I couldn't tell you how to spell hurricane.

…I am exaggerating. I can actually count up to eleven these days!

Shaking my head to pull myself out of my thoughts, I tried to wake up my fellow narcoleptic. "Ingvild?"

All I got in response was a muffled-sounding whine. Her eyes didn't flutter open and her breathing patterns didn't change in the slightest. Yeah, no, I'm not doing this.

I poke her in the side, right on the ribs. I was careful to not touch too high up—she wore clothes that were tighter and revealed more skin than you'd expect from her. "Wake up."

She did not, in fact, wake up. What is this, Sleeping Beauty? Does she need Prince Charming to kiss her before she can open her eyes? I am absolutely not Prince Charming.

My palms brushed against the ground, rubbing against the soft gray substance that made up the soil here. It was a weird material that made up the terrain—it moved like wet clay, yet it had the texture of sand. It was simultaneously hard and squishy; it was like dirt that was both packed and loose all at once.

With a push and a huff, my hands planted onto the dead land and propped me up onto my knees; Ingvild whined as I separated from her…this is painfully cliche.

I feel like I'm in one of those crappy Hallmark movies but instead of going away for the holidays, it was actually my entire universe ending and me taking a hike through nothingness that brought me here.

Closing my eyes, I let out a sigh. I really want to find some sort of civilization within a reasonable frame of time. I could ditch Ingvild and leave right away…but she's nice. I like her.

She implied that there wasn't anything close by, so that means I likely need to travel dozens—if not hundreds—of miles to maybe find something. Not like I have any clue as to where I am. Ingvild didn't seem to know much more, so it isn't like I need her for information.

I sighed again. I'm doing what dogs do, aren't I? I think it is called imprinting? Because, well, two constantly sleepy people don't make for a good traveling duo…but I don't want to leave her. I'm already fond of her, which is pretty ridiculous.

Okay, yes, we had that whole heart-to-heart, but still, I'm certain that I'd kill for her already. I guess that happens when I literally have nothing else to be loyal towards.

Calculate those odds, Athena. Bird Brain blabbed about how I would 'destroy the world for those I loved,' but I wonder what she'd conclude now? I have no people to be loyal to. Any ideals I had fought for were destroyed along with my world. Anything and everything I once held loyalty towards was gone.

…holy crap, I turned a girl I just met into the meaning of my entire existence. Ah. That's…something. It's better than when I had no sort of purpose, though.

I'd happily admit I'm probably depressed—being depressed is fairly typical behavior for when you lose everyone you know along with your purpose for existing being crushed with the rest of the universe. I don't exactly have a standard to compare it to(besides Ingvild, sort of), but it made sense to me that I'd be fairly depressed.

I looked down at Ingvild. She looked calm, her body spooning my kneeling legs and torso. It was cute. She is cute, even in her melancholy.

I think I want to make her happy; it isn't like I have particularly complex or deep reasons behind that desire. No, I just want to help her be happy.

Maybe it is because she'd look prettier with a smile, or perhaps it is because I can very easily see myself in her. Maybe it is because she's the only person I've talked to in far too long…Hades, it could be because it feels far better to latch onto her than just wanting to die from the agony of meaninglessness and loneliness.

Regardless, she has my loyalty. Could she be deceiving me? Possibly, but I highly doubt it. I mean, I'd watched her for a week before we met…oh my gods, I sound like Ted Bundy. But, yes, I'd seen her for a week before I was freed from the void, and her personality was consistent with how she behaved around me.

Also, if she ends up betraying me, so what? Genuinely so what? It isn't like I have anything else to live for. The only downside to giving her my loyalty is that I don't have stellar reasons to trust her, but who cares? There are no consequences that can happen to me at this point that I'd desperately hate.

It certainly doesn't hurt that her hair looks like purple cotton candy and her eyes like miniature suns. She really is a pretty woman, the kind that the Ancient Greeks would fight over.

With a tiny smile, I watched her calmly breathe as she laid coiled around my kneeling form. She enjoyed sleeping, it seems. I never liked sleeping much, mostly because all sorts of evil doers decided my dreams were the perfect place to squat in.

We were so similar, yet so different.

Shaking my head amusedly, I placed my right arm under her legs and my left arm under her back. I stood, carrying the devil like she was some sort of princess. I want to get as far from the void as humanly possible, and Ingvild will be following.

Ingvild gasped as I picked her up, eyes quickly fluttering open while a startled look morphed onto her sleepy face. "...what are you…?"

"Letting you sleep," I glibly said, tilting my neck to the side to crack it. The audible pop was satisfying. "So, where do you go when you aren't near the void? I doubt the Tunnel of Terror is a great hangout spot. "

"...it felt like the sea," she mumbled embarrassedly, settling into my hold with little protest. Ingvild did a great job at mimicking a cutesy princess, but I wouldn't call myself a knight in shining armor. "And I have a…" Ingvild's words tapered off, a hesitant expression morphing onto her face. "I—I have a…a caretaker."

"A caretaker?" I curiously asked, standing still with her in my arms. "So other people live nearby?"

Ingvild swallowed deeply, and the look in her eyes angered me. Fear. Her eyes were full of fear. She hadn't been clear on what happened after she woke up from her hundred year long nap, did she?

How did she get from Norway, I think, to the lands of darkness and gloom? Was she kidnapped? Was she even willingly down…wherever we were?

"A caretaker?" I pressure, staring into her worried eyes. I wasn't lying about already being willing to kill for her. "Who are they? What have they done to you?"

Her orange eyes widened in surprise. She seemed shocked that I cared, which I found to be mildly offensive. "She…didn't do anything to me. She's just…"

"She's just what?" I asked, but Ingvild didn't immediately respond. Okay, so I have to deal with another crappy superbeing, don't I? You could practically say tyrannical gods are my speciality.

Hades, Ares, Zeus, Atlas, Hyperion, Kronos—yeah, my track record would get me hired at a monster hunting firm real fast. I'm like that one younger cousin who at twelve managed to have the twenty years of working experience required to get an entry-level job.

The Ghostbusters would be begging me to do an interview. Unfortunately, I am overqualified.

Ingvild frowned, lower lip slightly puffed out in a small frown. Her forehead crinkled in worry, pupils dilating a smidge. "…how long was I asleep for?

Oh, yes, answer my question, why don't you? "No clue," I shrugged. "I was also snoozing. It had been a good…waaaaaay too long since I got any sleep."

The void wasn't a comfy sleeping environment, who'd have guessed? Every time I tried to doze off, my mind just wouldn't go unconscious. As someone who needs a good ten naps a day to properly function, it sucked a lot to not be able to sleep.

Ingvild's breath got caught in her throat. "I can't leave for long," she whispered, worry dark in her eyes. "She must be—"

"Ingvild, there you are!" A merry voice said, a woman appearing in a swirl of darkness. Her hair was as black as the night, skin pale like a snowy day. Generally, she was attractive. Whoever she was, she was the kind of woman weirdos would go gaga over.

As I am not a weirdo—I'm strange, 'kay?—I did not go gaga over her. Her emo-Victorian outfit just wasn't hitting it for me. I have a type, and she doesn't fit it.

Now, I'm not a picky guy, but my type typically involves girls who aren't the embodiment of evil…and this woman stank of sadistic energy.

The black haired woman narrowed her eyes at me, looking to Ingvild, who was in my hands, and then to my face. "And I wasn't aware Ingvild was capable of making friends. I have never seen you before—how has a human reached the Realm of the Dead, I wonder?"

The Realm of the Dead? This doesn't look like the Underworld I was used to…is it possible that this is a different pantheon's Underworld? Or is it something else?

Maybe I didn't time travel? What if this was like that Mandela Effect thing? Some of the younger cam—nope, focus, Percy.

I looked down at Ingvild. She had gone silent as a mouse, mouth firmly shut. I already heavily disliked this wannabe dominatrix. "Ingvild, I wasn't aware the caretaker you were talking about was a Victorian cosplayer. Honestly, I respect going outside dressed like that; it takes a lot of courage."

Word to the wise, kids? Don't talk to a girl about her outfit. Most people can't handle criticism, but guys usually don't care about dressing like troglodytes. Girls, however, typically do care—or, at least, the ones I have met care.

Either be a yesman and give well-timed compliments or keep your mouth shut. Unless, of course, you want a reaction.

The woman glared at me from where she stood. The cliff to nothingness was to our left as she shot what she thought were mean and scary looks at me. "What's wrong with my outfit?" The emo cosplayer asked sharply, eyes boring into me.

Yeah, that kind of reaction.

"Nothing, nothing." I placatively said, shooting her a friendly smile. "I mean, Shakespeare in the park, right? Doth mother know you weareth her drapes, and all of that?" I put on my best Shakespearen accent, really getting into the role. "Ist it not often said that thy garbs cometh from the plebs of the lands, cloths oft left resting near the loins of baboonish tarts?"

Now, I haven't a clue as to what I said, but the growing anger on the caretaker's face meant I must have said something that pissed her off. Ingvild's hushed breath was also a clear sign that I was ruining Miss It Isn't a Phase, Mom!'s day.

"You insolent—!"

"I mean, come on, did not one person tell you that corsets are so two centuries ago?" I blew air from my mouth, shaking my head. Doom and Gloom looked furious. "Honestly, the bravery you have wearing that…" I shook my head, fully channeling my inner Aphrodite camper.

I have heard Silena and Drew talk about fashion before. It was more fashion-talk than most would listen to in a lifetime. Ever hear people say that they looked into the void and it looked back?

Yeah, well, listening into a conversation that an Aphrodite camper was having was much like that. You listen in, they somehow immediately know, and then they force you to listen to a two hour long conversation on how to destroy empires with mascara, contour, and blusher.

I was dragged from my thoughts about the horror of makeup by a furious emo girl. "You dare talk to me, Nyx, like that!" Nyx roared in fury, but it wasn't much of a roar. The whooshing darkness was cool and all, but Nyx just couldn't look scary.

She just looked like a female version of Nico, and I just couldn't take that seriously. What is she going to do, raise the dead with a Happy Meal? Get real.

"Nyx, Nyx…" I tried out the name, thinking over if I knew it. It meant night in Greek, but surely she wasn't so lost to her role playing that she renamed herself to night. Surely not…right? "Honestly, I respect the dedication to your creature of darkness impress—ehem, I meant that changing your name to Night is…something? Well, we all have hobbies…"

The shadows grew wilder and furious, tendrils of eldritch darkness writhing and crawling across the ground in a stormy flurry of anger.

"No, you utter—!" She cut herself and took deep, laboring breaths. "My. Name. Is. Nyx." The girl—who maybe, just maybe, was named Nyx—bit out with malice. "I am the primordial Olympian Goddess of the Night, you absolute—" once again, Nyx stopped herself with a pained, agonized inhale. "You are an infuriating child. What are you doing with Ingvild, boy?"

Ah. So, she is a goddess. I think I'd heard of her—she had the hots for her brother and gave birth to death, I believe. And, apparently, she is also quite rude.

"Saying boy with zazz does not make you sound more intimidating, you know," I said with the self-preservation skills of a hampster. From my arms, Ingvild gave a pained whimper.

It didn't sound like a whimper of physical pain, though. It was more like she thought I was going to get us killed.

I'd never do that—I'm actually really good at getting narcissistic gods to like me. Really, I am! Ask Zeus, he'd back me up if he weren't, you know, dead.

"But, as for what I am doing with Ingvild, what does it look like?" I questioned with all of the curiosity in the world. "We were having a romantic stroll by the void, obviously. And, yes, I get that you showed up in a skimpy outfit to get attention, but really, you just aren't my type," I gave her a pitying look. Ingvild gave another pained noise. "So if you could shoo…?"

Nyx fumed, rage vibrant in her dark eyes. The grayish-white ground was dyed black with warping and wisping shadows, the world all the darker in the goddesses' anger. "Not…your type? A…a romantic stroll?" The goddess bitingly questioned with incredulous rage. "You mean to say that Ingv—"

"Yup!" I cheerfully exclaim, bobbing my head in agreement. I was purely stalling until I could think of a way out of this situation. "She and I are, like, totally madly in love!" I said in a faux-Valley Girl accent. Ingvild gave a choked noise from my arms, cheeks dark.

Nyx shook her head in disgust, nose scrunching up. "Quit your filibustering, you mousey brat. Who are you?"

Yeah, that's the reason I was stalling: I have no clue how to deal with a primordial goddess. I'd probably survive as I am pretty good at not dying, but Ingvild? Well, I don't want to let her die.

I shuffled Ingvild slightly in my arms, bracing her back and head into my right pectoral and shoulder. She was still as silent as the night—not Nyx night, though. Holding her like this would make it easier for me to sprint off if Nyx got aggressive.

"Filibustering?" I asked. "I'm not filibustering. Oh, are you jealous?" I shot her a sympathetic smile. "You could join us for our dinner-date if you want. It'd be a bit weird third wheeling, but—"

The shadows snapped against the ground like a whip, a crackle resounding across the endless cavern in a noise not too far from rolling thunder.

Nyx seethed, face red with fury and embarrassment. "Silence, you impudent boy. Quiet your filthy tongue or I will rid it from your mouth!"

Oh, right. Don't piss the goddess off too much. She can probably kill me with a snap of her finger.

I don't have strong self-preservation skills…but would she also kill Ingvild in her rage? I can't know for sure, so I'll shut up.

Even if I desperately wish to piss off Nyx more; and, yeah, I'd been a bit mean to the woman. Just a little. You have to recall, though, that I spent a very long period of time being Kronos's favorite statue.

For much too long, I could only find some joy in life by pissing off Kronos. On some level, I've completely lost all respect I have for power.

"Good," Nyx muttered darkly, glaring at my face. Not at any part of my face specifically. She was just glaring at my face generally. "Now, we will try this again and you will cooperate. What. Is. Your. Name."

Cooperate…I can do that.

Swallowing the excess saliva building up in my throat, I licked my lower lip and spoke to the goddesses. "Me? I'm no one special, actually, but my name's Bartholomew the Third. I'm just visiting, you know? I heard about the famous attractions in the Realm of the Dead and thought, hey, you know what'd be a good use of my time? Going to an inhospitable wasteland for kicks and giggles."

So, getting away. Could running work? No, horrible idea. She'd just use her true form to erase me from existence or something. Gods are just annoying like that.

Nyx slowly blinked, face still coiling with that odd expression of baffled anger. I think I made her unlock a new emotion. "Bartholomew…the Third? What…? That's…" Nyx looked pained. "You…are near the border of Cocytus and the Realm of the Dead…for vacation?"

I eyed the surroundings, looking for the Cocytus. I'm fairly certain I'd seen that river in the Underworld before, and it was really not a pretty site. It emitted misery, sorrow, and agony like it was radiation coming out of the Hudson.

Of course, the Cocytus couldn't compare to the East River in terms of nastiness, but it came close. Real close.

"Yup—I heard the Realm of the Dead was all the rage these days. Why else would everyone be…dying to come here?" I questioned with the most serious look I could muster.

Preferably not Ingvild dying, though.

Nyx didn't even look mad anymore; no, she just looked disappointed. "Just…why? That wasn't even funny," she exhaled deeply, hands cupping her face. "You are an irritant. I don't even know what to do with you."

"You could let me continue my lovely romantic stroll with Ingvild?" I immediately replied.

Nyx closed her eyes, a distinct look of agonised annoyance on her face. The goddess opened her mouth, shook her head, and then thought better than to speak.

"Is that a yes?"

She exhaled sharply out of her nose. "No. No, that was not a yes. I did not say any such words. I know for a fact you were not having a romantic stroll with her. I am highly certain that you were not."

I hummed, nodding all seriously. "And how would you know that?"

It was like every word I said made her day just that much worse. If it took one straw to break the camel's back, she was reacting like I just kept adding straw after straw after straw.

"I—how would I…?" She stopped and took deep, labored breaths. "Leave. Go. Your vacation is done. I don't want you here. I don't even want you to die here. In my many millennia of existence, I have never. Ever. Met such a nuisance as you. Please, just go. Leave."

She practically pleaded with those words. At least she doesn't want to kill me? Is that a win for Team Water?

Team Water, one. Team Night, zero.

"Glad we decided on that!" I amicably said, swivelling on my heel and immediately walking in the opposite direction of the goddess.

Nyx choked. "Wait, no! Leave the girl first! I didn't say you could take her."

The shadows reacted to her words, monstrous tentacles of black energy clawing out of the ground and reaching towards Ingvild and I.

Well, time to start sprinting. My legs pounded under me as I narrowly dodged a swoop by the dark tendrils. With a quick jump, a tiny leap sent me right over a slash of darkness.

My grip on Ingvild tightened to make sure she wouldn't fall to the ground, but she went slack like a sack of potatoes. I teetered from side to side, my center of balance ruined by Ingvild's movement.

"What are you doing?" I hissed, swinging her body like the sack of potatoes she imitated, causing the girl to land on my back.

Ingvild let out an oomph as she was commandeered into a piggyback ride. She tried to shove my back, but I held her tightly as I kept dodging strikes from Nyx. "Just—just let me go! She wants me, not you," she begged as her voice died off into a small whisper. "Don't…don't die for me. My life isn't worth it."

Her life isn't worth it? Bullshit. I am the one who isn't worth it. No one could be a greater failure than the guy who let the universe die.

From around me, the endless land of desolation had grown black and dark. Usually it was foggy, but Nyx had sullied it with her wrath.

My feet pounded against the shadowed ground—if I weren't impenetrable, I imagine the soles of my feet would be a bloody mess. It was hard to keep balance, though, because Ingvild wouldn't stop trying to get herself killed.

"Don't be a martyr," I huffed out as I ran, hands holding the depressed girl in place. "I won't die. I'm invinci—"

I was blindsided by a whip of black energy. The tendril smacked me in the face, sending my body flying back. Curling my form, I spun so that Ingvild would land on top of me. I'm a fairly big boy, so I wouldn't want to crush her.

As soon as we landed, I twirled so that I was on top of her. My body covered her like a shield—I was deeply regretting choosing the small of my back as my mortal point.

I placed my hand over the small of my back and mimicked a human shield; only moments later did spikes of shadows attempt to pierce my back and kill the both of us. Okay, Nyx wasn't even fighting to recapture Ingvild at this point.

"Nyx!" I yelled out through the pummeling, voice drowned by the flurry of attacks. "You'll kill her too!"

Shit! Why couldn't there be water? Sometimes I wish I had mediocre, weak powers like Thalia's because at least it wouldn't be reliant on being near a pond, lake, or the ocean.

I just need water, any water. What will it do against Nyx's flurry of darkness? I have no clue, but it's better than sitting and letting myself die.

A foot struck me in the side, but it did nothing. A small gasp of pain came from Nyx's mouth as she hopped on one leg, hissing at her stubbed toe. "You—you cursed child! What has happened to you? You smell of the sea, yet the Dread River of Oaths clings to your form like a nauseating fungus."

I didn't respond, my other hand covering Ingvild's mouth to stop her from saying something stupid. Ingvild wasn't going to be allowed to indulge in Stockholm Syndrome, no siree.

Nyx didn't take my silence well. "Is that how you will be? You couldn't keep your mouth shut before—all bark, no bite, child?" She snapped her fingers and a pillar of darkness slammed out of the ground, forcibly launching me into the air.

Yet again, I twisted so Ingvild would land on me when we hit the ground. Air was forcibly expelled from my throat as my back crashed onto the floor, my breath lost.

I was left looking up at the goddess. Nyx had her arms crossed as she stared down at me. "You're too interesting to kill—you'll upset the balance, won't you?" She mused to herself, looking down at me.

"I can sense it," Nyx allusively said, eyes lit with curiosity. Her anger had faded. "Your connection to the sea, it is as great as this girl's, isn't it? I had thought she was the only one to upset the balance, but the Dread River of Oaths binds itself to your flesh. Time muddies your essence. What are you, Bartholomew? And do give your real name."

My eyes looked up at her, and I genuinely contemplated spiting her and staying quiet. Unfortunately, my pea-brain still has some survival instincts. "…my name is Percy," I said in defeat—what exactly am I supposed to do against a primordial goddess? I can fight monsters, titans, and gods, but primordials were the big bads.

There is no winning against them. Even Kronos only beat his father through trickery.

"Percy, hm?" Nyx tapped her chin in contemplation before snapping her fingers. My world warped as darkness absorbed Nyx, Ingvild, and I. I felt like I was shoved through a whale's blowhole and launched at the speed of light at a wall.

One moment, I was staring up at Nyx with Ingvild laid on top of me. The next instant, I was on a mountain overlooking a series of ten valleys. The sky was purple and the vegetation red. I stood next to Ingvild, Nyx a bit in front of us.

"Very well, Percy," Nyx said with a click of her tongue. "Your existence interests me. You stink of the sea and time. The River of Broken Oaths lurks in your veins—you are Greek, yes?"

I swallowed, confused by her rapid change in behavior. "As Greek as olives," I offer, eyes still wandering over the new world we were in. It could be nothing besides a new world; where the Realm of the Dead had been desolate, this place was lively.

Sure, it was lively with brimstone, hellfire, scarlet plants, and warped monsters, but it was still lively. It was kinda like California, then.

"…what do you mean by Percy smelling of time?" Ingvild quietly asked, speaking up for the first time in…a long while.

Actually, I was curious about that too. I smelt of time? Did Kronos do something to me that still had consequences?

Nyx gave me a piercing stare, eyes seemingly boring into my soul. "It is as I said, Ingvild. Percy smells of time. Causality weaves into his soul just as the sea does. It is no more his nature than the sea is."

My blood ran cold. What did Kronos do to me? What happened to me in the void? Why, why, why? Why could nothing ever be simple for me? "Why are you telling me this?"

She was being helpful, and it was odd. Nyx just tried to send me to the grave and now she is being buddy-buddy. She must want something, and it is fishy.

"Why?" Nyx asked with a tilt of her head. "You're an irritant, that is why. Your existence is anathema, godling, and it is interesting. I mistaked you for a simple human before, and that was my mistake—no, you are so much more, and you don't even know the depths of the blight that you are on reality."

Ingvild gave Nyx a tiny glare. It was the most aggression I'd seen her show to the woman, so I was impressed. "Percy…is not anathema. He's natural like—like the sea. He doesn't fit any definition of that word!"

I'd ask what anathema meant, but then I'd feel stupid. It probably meant unnatural? Maybe? Anyways, I shot Ingvild a tiny smile.

Nyx rolled her eyes, scoffing. "I wasn't referring to your little crush, Ingvild. No, I was referring to his existence. He is anathema to this reality. It abhors him. He may be of the sea and time flows through his veins, but that does not mean he is a necessary existence."

"Well, I feel like my existence is necessary," I replied, still confused as to what she was saying. How can an existence be unnecessary?

Is she saying I'm like a glitch or a bug? Something that exists that should not? That's the only way I could interpret her words.

"My sister, Ananke, would disagree," Nyx disagreed with a shake of her head. "You are a false existence. Most would never be able to tell that—but I am not most," she boasted, bragging proudly. "Regardless, that isn't important. What is important is that you are a blight on reality and it is beyond interesting."

Ingvild frowned, still unhappy with what Nyx was saying. "…I still don't see how Percy is anathema," she mumbled quietly.

Nyx sighed and shook her head. "It does not matter what you do or do not believe—don't dare think you are that important. Yet, do you want proof? Your awakening, it was due to him."

I blinked, looking between Ingvild and Nyx in shock. "How? She must have awoken long before I came out of the void!"

Ingvild nodded her head in agreement, looking at me with curious eyes.

"…came out of the void?" Nyx voiced, interest heavy in her words. "No wonder you are not contingent on fate. That'd explain much, though. Your existence in this reality awoke Ingvild's Longinus. You are so strongly natured to the sea that it resonated with her."

"And then you kidnapped her?"

Nyx gave an amused laugh. "Yes, and then I kidnapped her. Her potential far surpasses any existence I have ever met. I was going to enslave her with mind control—" Ingvild let out a startled gasp while I gave Nyx a horrified look. "But this is more interesting."

What…the actual hell is wrong with this woman? She acts bipolar. One moment, she acts all friendly. Next, she wants to kill you. The moment after that, she talks about enslaving people and contingency.

Ingvild looked down at her hands, unconsciously taking a step away from Nyx. "…what is more interesting?"

"Things," Nyx offhandedly said, purposefully being allusive. "You may keep the girl, Percy. Die and I will enslave her, so either keep things interesting or please end your life soon!" The black haired goddess cheerfully said. "Anyways, I brought you to Malebolge. Kill Nimrod and I will give you an award—or just leave, but I won't remove the beginnings of the mind control seal I have on Ingvild if you do that."

With that, she vanished in a whoosh of shadows. My fingers clenched tightly into a fist, anger burning into my heart. I really, really hate gods.

It's always do this, Percy, or do that, Percy! What about a how are you, Percy? But noooooo. No! Basic empathy and compassion is just too difficult for gods to perform, apparently.

"…I'm sorry." Ingvild silently whispered, a sorry look on her face. Her words immediately pulled me out of my thoughts. "If it weren't for me, you wouldn't be stuck protecting me."

I didn't like her words very much. Not at all. I'm the only one who gets to self-deprecate, okay?

"If it weren't for you, Ingvild," I begin, voice firm, "I'd be lonely and have no meaning. Who else was I supposed to find in the ways of friendship down in the Realm of the Dead? Skeletor? So, you know what, Ingvild?"

Ingvild was looking at her feet, twiddling her thumbs. "...what?"

I tried for a comforting smile, but I'd never been great at comforting people. I tried it with Nico once and he almost helped destroy the world. "We are nap buddies, got it? I promise to you, I swear to you, I want to be around you."

"I…want to be around you too," Ingvild awkwardly said, cheeks flushed. I won't lie, my cheeks were also darkened a smidge.

"Great!" I said, clapping my hands and hiding my embarrassment. "So, naptime? I'm tuckered out. I mean, we were up for, what, an hour? Two hours? It is long past my bedtime, you know."

Ingvild giggled, cheeks still red. "…I'm also tired," she admitted. "Are you—um—by nap buddies, you…did you…"

The conversation only devolved into more flustered gibberish from there. It ended with the two of us laying on top of the mountain Nyx left us on, sleep taking us over as we cuddled against each other.

Platonic cuddling, I think…but I'm not actually sure. Regardless, napping on red grass wasn't that bad when you're with someone else.

It was really comfy.

AN: Uggh. This was supposed to be released Sunday, but then a bunch of my stuff was hacked and my delete key broke, so I had to get that stuff fixed before I could start writing.

Anywho, Ingvild. She is characterized very little in the novels before she joins Issei's harem, but she was actually super depressed before that. She literally tried to get them to kill her just so they'd have an advantage against Nyx. She did not value her own existence. Kinda sad, honestly.

Percy is also depressed, ironically. His self-worth in the books was always horrible. He wasn't suicidal like Ingvild practically was, but his thoughts reminded me very much of my own depression.

The two won't be in a slow burn romance. I find it to be exhausting to read two people who clearly like each other dance around each other, so I won't do that. I also wouldn't like writing it. They will get together after a reasonable amount of time.

Now, for Percy being of time, don't expect any super powerful things to come from that. It will be elaborated on eventually.