Work Text:
When they picked him up, they picked him up like a worm in rotten meat. They were gentle. If you want to set a trap, you must make sure that all the springs and iron claws are in good shape. They were not going to kill him. They would not let him die before other half-bloods came to rescue. If other demigods knew the boy had left nothing but his body they would be outraged but, they won’t waste their time saving a corpse before saving the world. He must be alive. He must be breathing. Gaea wanted him alive. The thought disgusted Nico. He wanted to live, he didn’t want to be the bait.
He slipped down the surface of the jar. It’s cold. He kind of welcome it. With fire river burning his taste buds and lava ground slowing his steps, ice wasn’t as intimidating as before. Cold meant being alone, but guess what he had figured out in his short, miserable life? There were company worse than that. Touches more vicious than bites. He could not think he could not-
The giants picked up the jar. His fingers sliced through his own blade, leaving him with another burning cut. He would have cursed if he wasn’t that exhausted already.
Nico thought he was like a hamster, crawling on the cage’s floor.
*
He must had fallen asleep without realizing it. Otherwise there was no way he’d be that surprised. Right, he chocked, it’s air of Tartarus. He’d used up all the oxygen, leaving nothing but poison. He had the last resort in his pocket but he would rather not use it. Not until the last second. He felt himself being ripped apart pieces by pieces, bones disconnecting slowly. Maybe it’s exactly what its like stepping into River Styx. He thought of Percy. He had thought that maybe by being the last person Percy saw before setting his feet in the river, he would be that link, the one thing keeping him connected with this world. If he became that one thing, the most important thing sticking Percy in place, then maybe, Percy would grow feelings for him.
Nonsense. He was childish. He was dreaming. The day the second Titan war ended, the day they went back to camp, was the day Percy and Annabeth were thrown into the lake, together, holding hands. It should be me you’re holding I want you to hold me, if I dropped into River Styx it would be you keeping me in the living world. Bianca was gone so there is only, the feeling for whom I deeply resented-
He stuffed the first pomegranate seed into his mouth.
*
“Could you hear what I’m saying?”
Nico blinked. It wasn’t that there was anything that could be seen, closing or opening eyelids made no difference. There was nothing to be observed with eyes. He was all alone in a bronze jar, waiting for someone, anyone that could let him out. The sound was faint. It was probably an illusion made by his brain.
“Neeks!” He caught his sister’s anxious voice before falling further into darkness.
*
There were hands on him. It couldn’t be real. He remembered taking the second seed. He must be sleeping or said, partly dead. He couldn’t possibly be feeling anything of the outside world. It must be inside his own head, or flashbacks. And it wasn’t a flashback. It couldn’t be.
“Let go of me.” He shoved. The other let out a deep rambling of smirk and grabbed his wrist, hard. Nails broke his skin when he was pinned down on the floor. Human skin on human skin. “Percy, let me go!” He shrieked.
“You didn’t mean it.” Nico felt lips on his, teasing and testing and intruding. Percy was kissing him. Percy never had kissed him. He never knew, never knew that Nico wanted him, wanted him and – loved him. Nico couldn’t hold back his tears. It’s not real but it felt too vivid. Percy’s warmth his breath his nails (not claws) his hand (no fur) his lips soft. It’s wrong, horrible. It’s sweet, intoxicating. It was everything he wished that never happened and things he had been craving for so long. He meant it and he didn’t mean it. He realized until that moment that he wasn’t wearing anything. That was the same time something hard slammed into him.
He
couldn’t
fight
the pain
pleasure
it’s Percy.
His brain must had been ruined by poison of Achlys. There was no other explanation he would let himself be used like this, even in a dream. Humiliation. Weren’t they acquaintance for too long?
Thrust.
Heat.
Explosion.
White light filled his vision.
When he looked up,
Percy was wearing that grin he had before he and Annabeth kissed. Before Nico watched it happened form far, far away.
He couldn’t bear it anymore.
*
Blood warm and sticky swirled up into a pool underneath him. How could he bleed so much blood without falling int coma? The feeling was too peaceful. He hadn’t felt so relaxed for a long time. Where was I? What was I doing?
Then it clicked.
“No.” He sat bolt upright, previous illusion of comfort falling apart. He must be imaging it. There was no way it was real, no way he would see it if he opened his eyes. It was his nerves doing, mounted pressure messing. He should open his eyes now he wouldn’t be seeing-
Nico screamed.
Well, he would have if his voice wasn’t taken away by the horrible scene in front of him. There was that kind of brutality that could cage your breath in your lungs. Distress that clung your throat so tight not a single drop of dust could pass.
Percy Jackson was dead. His throat had been torn apart, flesh turning a color of deep red. He couldn’t be mistaken for sleeping with that expression of utmost terror sticking on his face. His eyes were opened revealing nothing but the back of eyes. Dull. White. Blank. The body he left behind were twisted, limbs fell into impossible angles. Something white stuck out of his left elbow – or in the mess that used to be it.
“No.” Nico couldn’t say it, not even in a vision. He couldn’t risk his own voice. “No.”
“Get out of the way!” A boy ran to the body out of nowhere. Nico remembered that outfit, white bandage with intertwining snakes on it. A medic. The boy wasted no time pouring nectar on those nasty wounds. Bobbles formed on the edges as the medic started a chant. He must be a child of Apollo.
“I’m sorry.” He whispered. He couldn’t even hear himself with his voice no louder than the voice of the dead. Up and down, he could only feel his lips and tongue moving up and down. “I’m sorry. I never want to kill him. I never want him dead. I wouldn’t bear to see it. I would rather meet my own end than watch him walks into his. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’M SORRY!” The last few words took air away in his lungs. He couldn’t breathe.
Then the scene changed.
He was on half – blood hill near the strawberry field. With black jeans and aviator jacket on he wasn’t naked anymore. Glancing around, he saw the medic treating Percy earlier walk right up to him. A memory. There was no way withdrawing his hand when Will Solace took it. Breeze brushed through blond curls before his eyes.
Soft. The boy’s touch was gentle.
“Please come to the infirmary. Let us check you up. Trust me.” Solace smiled, his gaze transfixed Nico on the spot. “We won’t hurt you.”
Nico felt a tear roll down his cheeks, and he broke.
The sound faded, light dimmed into darkness and colors vanished, but the clear blue eyes remain. He felt more naked than before in front those eyes. Those eyes offered comfort. They gave out care freely to a stranger. They whispered “safety” in them. Tears rushed down uncontrollably as noise free itself from his throat. He wanted to believe them. He wanted to be taken care of. He wanted a place to sleep soundly. He wanted home.
But he didn’t trust them. He couldn’t. It was like yesterday when Percy showed up at school dance and fought the manticore for him and Bianca. He had so much faith in Percy as to entrust him with his dear sister’s life. It was more precious than his own.
Percy failed him. Minos used him. Hades wished he was the one killed instead of Bianca. At the start of all of events, his big sister abandoned him. They all turned their backs on him. He couldn’t trust Solace. He curved himself up, small as a ball in this empty space. For him, no one could be trusted. No one. He sobbed, his heart hollow. Forever.
*
There wasn’t a single seed left when he opened his palm.