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They said the vampire on the hill couldn’t be killed.
Every year, the hunters tried, and every year, the castle swallowed them whole. Some swore he drank the blood from which he had bathed in, and that the night bent at his command. The others whispered he’d been there longer than the town itself, and if you looked into his eyes too long, you’d see your own grave.
Will Solace grew up with those stories in his ears the way other kids grew up with lullabies. After all, the Solaces were hunters, always had been. His father, his brothers, his uncles, and his cousins. All of them carried their name with silver strapped to them like armour. However, it meant dying young, mostly. It meant sharpening knives under candlelight while watching the door creak open, and waiting for someone who would ever come back. That was how Will last saw his eldest brother; he was laughing and said he’d be back by morning.
He never did.
Now it was just Will- the last Solace. The boy who smiled too easily, who didn’t drink like the other hunters, who carried the crest sewn into his jacket even though it fit him like a hand-me-down that would never sit right.
He never asked for it, and he never wanted it.
“Solace!”
The shout cracked across the hall, making every head snap his way.
“Zeus wants you at the gates. Ten o’clock.”
The words landed heavy. Everyone knew what that meant.
In this organization, a summon from Zeus wasn’t a meeting. It was a sentence. It meant you’d been chosen for the task. In their codex, it was written: the hunter who is called shall ascend the hill into the night. He shall not return until the heart of the ancient one is torn from his breast and is laid before the council; it is only then that the curse upon this town will be broken.
Except in this “task,” no one ever came back.
Will just scratched his neck. Well, that was fast.
The Guild always made a spectacle of this. It was supposed to be an honor, the way they dressed it up. A great test for the legacies- children of the hunters. An endless trial- for criminals who were sentenced to a life of hunting against their will. If you survive the vampire, then you’d prove yourself worthy.
The weight of fifty pairs of eyes pressed into him, waiting for fear or refusal. But Will only shoved his hands into his pockets. What is there for him to lose anyway?
A cough broke the silence, which was followed by footsteps that were quick and purposeful.
“Will,” Annabeth’s voice was low and cutting as always. She shouldered through the crowd with Percy on her heels, both of them looking like they hadn’t slept in three nights. Which was possible; thieves didn’t rest easy when they were forced into hunter uniforms.
“You don’t have to do this,” she said, stopping in front of him. Her gray eyes flicked once, sharp as a blade, like she was trying to cut the bravado right off his face.
Will lifted a shoulder. “Not really up to me, is it?”
Percy rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding his gaze. He looked even less comfortable than usual, which was saying something. Percy thrived on being calm and collected. “It’s just—” He hesitated, glanced at Annabeth, then back at Will. “No one’s ever come back, man. Ever. Not once. That doesn’t bother you?”
“Sure it does.” Will dug his hands deeper into his pockets, rocking back on his heels. He offered them a crooked smile and shrugged, “But it’s not like I get to pick.”
Annabeth’s frown deepened.“Here,” she said, pulling a leather pouch from under her cloak. She pressed it into his hand, fingers firm, like she was trying to transfer some of her steel into him. “It's Salt. Don’t waste it.”
“And this,” Percy added quickly, shoving a small dagger into his belt. The blade was ugly, chipped at the edges, clearly stolen from the Guild’s armory. “Not the best, but it's silver. A weapon is still a weapon.”
For a moment, Will just looked at their concern and quiet defiance. They weren’t supposed to care. Criminals like Percy and Annabeth didn’t make friends with legacies; legacies didn’t waste time on criminals. But Will had never had patience for the children of hunters with their polished arrogance and empty boasts. He liked Annabeth’s sharp tongue. He liked Percy’s restless humor. He liked people who weren’t pretending they wanted this life.
“Thanks,” he said simply. He tucked the pouch into his jacket, adjusted the dagger.
Percy clapped him on the shoulder. “Come back, alright?”
“Sure.” Will’s voice was light again, back to easy smiles. “I’ll bring you a souvenir.”
The look Annabeth gave him said she didn’t appreciate the joke. Percy laughed shakily anyway.
The horn rang then, deep and low, calling him to the gates.
He turned toward the doors, toward the path up the hill.
He didn’t look back.
The path wound higher and higher until the trees thinned. Mist clawed at the edges of his boots, curling up his legs like fingers. The hill loomed sharp against the sky, crowned with the ruins everyone whispered about: the vampire’s castle.
Up close, it was worse. The castle stones cracked open from time, iron gates leaning like broken teeth, and vines circle its towers like a lifeline. Will stood before the gates, his hand brushing the dagger Percy had given him. Any other hunter would have been shaking by now. They would be muttering prayers and thinking of the decree etched in every Guild hall.
“Well,” he muttered to the mist, “here goes nothing.”
He shoved the gate. The groan of metal echoed like a warning, but he walked through anyway. His boots struck stone, and his stride was unhurried. Inside, the castle was fogged in darkness. Some pillars sagged under their own weight, and Will could feel a presence watching him.
“Dramatic, as always,” Will said into the dark. “You’d think after a thousand years you’d invest in candles.”
The shadows stirred, and a shape pulled free from them. A familiar pale skin, black hair, and eyes like midnight that shone through the darkness.
Nico. His Nico
Will’s grin softened without him meaning it to. His chest loosened, that warm, stupid flutter kicking in the way it always did when it was him. The monster and his lover.
“Well,” Will said, voice light, “guess I really have to kill you now. Sworn by the Codex and all.”
Nico arched a brow, stepping closer. “Please. You’ve tried to kill me a thousand times before, Sunshine. To avenge your brothers, wasn’t it?” His mouth curved, the faintest edge of a smile. “Yet here you are about to kiss me instead.”
Will rolled his eyes and closed the distance, catching Nico’s collar and pressing his lips against his. It was quick, certain, and unafraid.
When he pulled back, breath brushing Nico’s ears, he whispered, “You’re lucky I like kissing your mouth more than stabbing your chest.”
“Lucky?” Nico echoed, dry, though the way his hand lingered against Will’s wrist betrayed him. “Maybe I just let you get away with it.”
Will laughed. This was the moment he’d been waiting for. He’d wanted to be chosen if it meant getting away from rotting in that god-awful town. Was it a little twisted, falling in love with the enemy? The enemy who had once been the reason his family never came home? Maybe. But Will had learned a long time ago that monsters didn’t always look like monsters. Sometimes they wore a familiar face. They were the ones who hunted Nico simply for existing, who turned their fear into law, and their cruelty into ritual. One lie whispered became a story, and a story repeated became history.
“You know,” Will said, lifting his head from Nico’s shoulder to squint at the ruined ceiling, “this place could use some serious renovation. So the next guy who comes here won’t have to die from dust and cobwebs.”
Nico groaned. “You’re insufferable.”
Will grinned. “Or maybe we can add a chandelier. I can totally see you as a chandelier guy.”
Nico shot him a look sharp enough to stake him on the spot. Will only leaned closer, brushing his nose against Nico’s cheek, voice dropping. “I don’t care anyway, as long as I have you.”
The silence stretched again, but this time Will could feel Nico’s pulse quicken. He thought about his brothers. He wondered what they would say if they saw him here, with the so-called monster on the hill, kissing him instead of killing him.
He decided he didn’t care.
Fuck the Codex because if the face of evil looked like Nico, then Will would gladly damn himself for it.
“You should be afraid of me,” Nico murmured, almost to himself.
Will tilted his head. “Why? The only thing terrifying here is how deeply I fell for you.”
Nico’s lips pressed to his temple, light and fleeting, like he couldn’t quite help himself.
Will smiled against his shoulder. He didn’t need to say it aloud, but the thought anchored itself deep: Will Solace looked for a home- a place to belong, and he found it in the arms of a man he wasn’t supposed to love. So if it took a thousand steps to climb up this cursed hill to reach him. He’d do it over and over again if it meant coming home to this.