Phoenix of Olympus (PJO/Harry Potter) UNEDITED (PJ FANFICTION)

Ch.8- Back At Camp

*WARNING* Mature Content Ahead. If you are not old enough or comfortable with the scene, skip and read ahead. Comment if you want me to add a summary of what was missed during the explicit scene. There is no sex. It is only an intense make out. WARNING*

Nico P.O.V.

We would have liked to say nothing changed, that nothing had happened. We wished we could all go back and be happy. We would have loved to forget, to move on in peace... but we can't . Not anymore. After other battles, maybe yes. You got attacked, you killed a few monsters, you had dinner and laughed with friends. A typical day for us demigods. You lost a few but in the end, your family was still there. You always had a support. You could always move on. But how can someone move on from this?

We were, well are, in shambles. Even the newer, inexperienced children and campers could sense the unease and feel the tension.  All of us were affected by the somber and grieving air, but the survivors of both wars were affected the most. There were no jokes to be had and all jovial life soon died down, weighed by the losses suffered. The counselors were desperately trying to keep it together, all grieving their siblings, friends, and leaders while putting on a brave face. At least they have each other.  Even though I was "one of them", that title and role didn't fit me. In all honesty, it just kinda happened. Hazel left and I became the only son of Hades again, but most of all, I was powerful. Hopefully, I was strong enough to protect them until Percy returned. If he returned at all that is. 

I was surprised when people started coming to me for support and guidance. While many still fear me, they all respect me. My power. My father. But if they really respect me, truly care and see me, maybe I'll never know. I was a leader to them now, a connection to both the dead and Percy. Only, no one really sees anything. They are so wrapped up in their own grief that they can no longer see the suffering and pain of their siblings. They don't see how their little brothers and sister are so confused and lost and clueless. I felt I was one of the few who could relate, seeing as how a long time ago I was in a similar predicament. But I was rescued. Here, we're lucky to mot be drowning.  Thus why I've barely spoken a word. Every day I've walked along the ocean shore without a sound. Just like today.

This loneliness we feel, this pain...it's nothing compared to what Percy has and is enduring. 

He had been so strong. After the battle we all expected him to shut down. Or explode in a fit of rage. We expected him to give up because that's what we would have done. But he never did. He held Annabeth and then collapsed. And the Gods took him, leaving us in the dark. Some rumors flew around about what happened to him, but there was never any confirmation. Some say he didn't attend the funerals but I knew he did. I could sense him. That amount of raw sorrow and rage couldn't be ignored by one so close to death. After a while he returned, but he wasn't the same. He was staying with his mom more and taking on quest after quest, but he never forgot the campers. Whenever he was there, it seemed to be his mission to make them smile and protect them. That only hurt us more because we all knew he really wanted to cry. That is, until he went to his mom's house and hadn't returned since. 

Chiron said it was a quest, one only he could complete. The centaur refused to say anymore, and he refused to answer their questions about what happened to him. So after a few days, the survivors and counselors decided to take up the mantle he left for us. We all tried to raise morale, we all took up teaching duties. We became the parents to our siblings. We created a support system. Somehow, I got dragged into the heart of it. 

I had just finished training  the more advanced campers some of the battle techniques Percy had taught me. It wears me down. The socializing, the pretending. The facade I try to keep up is too much. I have a bitter understanding and appreciation of Percy now that I am in his place. I went through Tartarus too... How did Percy do it? How didn't he break? If I was angry before, it's nothing compared to how I am now. I am just so angry. Brooding, grieving and angry. Angry at Gaea. Angry at me. Angry at Percy. Angry at the fucking gods and fates for choosing him. There were other children of the Big Three, why did it always have to be him?