-- 1st July 2008 --
Percy was trying to convince Chiron that since the Hermes cabin had set up the feathers-tar prank that had turned into the feathers-tar incident at Capture the Flag this morning, it was theirs and not his team's fault that half the forest was covered in tar and much more than half was still dusted with feathers like first snow had decided to come half a year early.
He was pretty sure he was winning the argument.
"Besides," Percy prompted, "Didn't you say we should try to get spirits up again? If that wasn't distracting, nothing is."
The Battle of the Labyrinth had only happened three days ago, and until today a thick fog of misery had still been hanging over the camp.
Chiron looked irritated by this line of argument. Percy could see him winding up, but was saved by Mr. D, the (unwilling) camp director and god Dionysus, appearing behind Chiron and holding an off-white scroll. Percy noticed the god of wine didn't look as disgruntled as he had been since his son, Castor, had died in the battle.
Instead, he looked just a tiny tiny bit worried, which was actually much worse.
"I am stealing Chiron from you, Perry," he informed Percy. "Go run off now. You were losing the argument anyway."
Mr. D showed Chiron the label on the side. Percy thought he glimpsed the seal of Olympus on the scroll: Annabeth had been walking him through all the things she'd discovered on Daedalus's laptop for the past few days, and even Percy had to admit some of it was pretty cool. That seal, though, meant it was a message from Olympus and hand-delivered by Hermes, and those couldn't be common.
"Ah," Chiron said finally, after enough time to read the little bit of writing more than once. "I see. Well, good talk, Percy. I completely agree. I hear Annabeth is looking for you. Why don't you go find her?"
Percy frowned. "Are you trying to get rid of me?"
Chiron looked diplomatic.
"Yes, he is," interrupted Mr. D, before he could start. "No one has time for you, Penelope. Now shoo." He glared at Percy still straining to read the label on the scroll.
Percy looked up to see Mr. D's purple eyes glancing momentarily with power. "Shoo."
Percy reluctantly turned and started walking away. He hadn't managed to read anything, being dyslexic (Why did Olympus insist on cursive?) so on the other side of the path he pretended to kneel down to tie his shoelaces and glanced back. They had moved around the side of the Big House and were talking in low tones, Chiron with his brows furrowed and Mr. D with absolute nonchalance.
Chiron said something tense to Mr. D, who shrugged and tossed the scroll aside. It landed on the grass.
Awesome. If Percy could double back after they'd left--
Mr. D stared across the path at him, glared, and snapped his fingers. Percy thought for a moment that Mr. D was going to turn him into a strawberry vine or make him go mad (Yeah, it seemed harsh, but you never knew what a god was going to do) but all that happened was the scroll went up in flames.
That wasn't great either, actually.
Dionysus glared and pointed at the pile of ash then at Percy, like You're next.
Percy took a moment to seriously reconsider his priorities.
In the end, he made a show of leaving hastily while Mr. D glared him out of sight. He wouldn't get to know what was on that scroll, but it was better than life as a berry vine.
After a second, his step lightened: Camp bustling around him was infectious, and Chiron had just given him permission to crash on whatever Annabeth was doing.
As Percy crossed the green to the Athena Cabin, he was distracted enough -- and almost everyone else was -- to miss Nico di Angelo appearing out of nowhere in front of the Hades Cabin, wearing a ring on the middle finger of his left hand and a blank, stunned look in his eyes, still reeling from the gods.
_____
Nico found himself outside the Hades Cabin.
It was bright and there were people everywhere, but he stopped himself from going in. There was a big statue of Hades inside, one he just couldn't look at right now. Instead he walked in a daze over the grass and onto the nearest path, one hand wrapped around the ring, trying to figure out inside his head the same thing he'd already figured out over and over, not heading in any particular direction.
He felt gazes of the trickle of passing campers fall on him, slide away, and then double back in surprise or curiosity.
He wasn't supposed to come back here. He'd told Percy he didn't belong, and it was true. When he had been with the Hermes cabin, they'd figured out that his memories were weird -- taking a look at the cabins, maybe, would jog his memory and they'd be able to figure out who his godly parent was. Nico had taken one peek inside the dark, glowing-green Hades Cabin with coffins for beds and decided it was for the best that this wasn't where he was staying.
Nico looked up at the feeling of a gaze lingering on him.
Chiron, immortal activities director of Camp Half-Blood, was on the deck of the Big House on his left. Dionysus was a distance ahead, leaning back against the fence of the strawberry fields and watching them judgmentally.
Chiron looked over at Dionysus with him. He turned back to Nico. "Come inside?" the centaur offered.
Nico went inside.
Chiron closed the door behind them. He nodded Nico to a seat at the table in the parlour and waited until Nico sat. It was dark, despite the sunlight pouring in through the windows, and Chiron began to light the wicked lamps.
"I figured it out myself," the centaur said finally. His voice was slow, and calm, and low.
Nico remained silent. Behind Chiron was a framed photograph of the centaur surrounded by twenty or so violently cheering demigods, hoisting two opposing flags in the air.
Chiron said, "After the Second World War, there were very little demigods here. A tight-knit group." He set the last lamp back on its hook on the wall and glanced at Nico. "When demigods began to drop out of contact, one by one, it was strange. Stranger still that they were alive, but secretive, and nervous around close friends."
He said, "Eventually they learned to stay away entirely."
Nico stared at him.
"It has been... a long time since a demigod that has already been here, in Camp, has been chosen. Too suspicious, and too jarring for the chosen. But I have still seen that sigil on enough rings, to know..." Chiron trailed off, clopping nervously.
Nico watched him close the blinds, the flats clanking.
"The Ambassador of the Gods is a title created by gods grown old, not the usurpers of the Titans, Nico. Unlike this camp, and much of our realm," he said finally, "Gods who have learned about every type of demigod, and have learned to weave a protection around this best kept secret that is faultless. I dearly wish--"
He was standing opposite the table from Nico, and when his gaze switched, it occurred to Nico that Chiron -- the millennia old immortal, the trainer of a thousand heroes -- was struggling to get the words out.
"I dearly wish there was news better to tell you, but perhaps if you cooperate with the job... we can hope to see you survive this halfway whole."
What had happened to Sung Hyun on the 5th was what had happened to Nico today. Within the year, she was dead. No one is going to save you.
And Nico kept thinking over and over that it was absurd surely that simply taking an oath to never tell anyone about the Ambassador had kept that endless corridor of souls a secret from everyone, but clearly it had worked. It was insane, but it had worked.
He didn't know how he would be taking this if he hadn't been surrounded by his predecessors seconds before they made him one. But Sung Hyun made it believable.
Having no one and continuing to keep it that way.
She made it believable that Nico would not be so different soon.
You have to commit.
Nico looked at Chiron. "Why?" he asked.
Chiron thought about it.
"Why?" the centaur muttered under his breath. "Gods, have..." He stopped and gazed at Nico. For a long time.
When he spoke again, he sounded strained. "Gods act through demigods because demigods do not have the restrictions of such ancient magic as they do, Nico. After the Second World War, there weren't many demigods left to do their bidding. There were not many left to try and fail. But if the gods could choose one that might be forced into extreme danger and rise to conquer it, they would not have to risk putting demigods who weren't ready on quests."
They looked at each other. "The Ambassador exists," and Chiron's voice hushed on the word like the walls were listening in, "to please the gods, and so one demigod can bear the burden of them all, so that the rest might survive."
Nico felt the centaur watch him, and said nothing.
In the silence, Chiron turned and glanced at the photograph of dozens of happy faces on the wall. Nico made fists under the table and the buzzing in his head came together into silence.
He felt fragile, but accounting for it now. This was really happening.
"They succeeded," Chiron told him.
_____
-- 5th October 2008 --
Nico froze. He gripped the strap of his backpack, crouched in the undergrowth, and tried to keep absolutely still.
It didn't work. Just barely, over the sound of the wind whispering through the trees, he heard the sound of an arrow being notched.
He took off running.
Chaos erupted. The distance to the pedestal closed -- thirty meters, twenty meters -- Nico came to a full halt and stuck to the trunk of a tree. An arrow slammed into it on the other side and vibrated at eye level. The rest whistled past him on both sides like bullets.
The entire unit were magical masters of archery. That wouldn't work another time. Nico took off again, trying to manage the terror of an arrow cutting through the air and finding its mark, of the longbow hidden in the trees catching up and then leading him. He broke out of the forest into the ruins, no more foliage. Just meters away now--
It hit him like a sledgehammer. Nico went down hard and gasped for air-- the arrow had torn through his side and was still in him. The arrowhead scraped the stones on the other side as he stumbled up, not thinking about the pain, not thinking about the next one coming for his head this time.
He grappled the pedestal and hauled himself to his feet, unsheathed his sword at his side, and slashed it through the glowing orb perched on the top. It shattered and turned immediately to sand that floated off in the air.
The ruins trembled. The stones around him began to crumble. The assassins returned to dust and the forest went back to sleep.
Nico sheathed his sword and crumpled over the pedestal, which was giving out under him.
His side was soaked in blood. His adrenaline faded too fast. His breaths were coming through as thin, strained wheezes. And his only option terrified him, but bleeding out here alone terrified him more.
He melted into the shadows.
Nico was falling through the treetops. He flailed and slammed into a branch, but it broke under him. Together they tumbled onto the roots of the tree, hard enough to rattle his teeth. He glimpsed campfires and young women in silver parkas and tents set up in the clearing, but the world was spinning around him.
"What... on here?" asked a young, level voice.
There were tones of surprise and outrage, but they faded in and out, muffled by the gushing of blood in Nico's ears. He dropped his backpack and tore his jacket off, groaning from the pain.
"Nico?" he heard Thalia say. "My lady..."
His hands shook. The pain was unbearable. He pressed himself up against the trunk of the tree and looked down. His hands and side were nearly black and slippery, the ring on the middle of his left hand gleaming ruby red with his blood. He could feel it spurting out between his fingers.
"Oh my gods, Nico," Thalia gasped. Her electric blue eyes hovered over him, wide. "Where... What happened?"
Nico tried to speak, but his mouth was filled with lead. The world darkened and he felt himself slump like a thick blanket had been thrown over him. The last thing he heard before passing out was Thalia screaming, "Medic!"
_____
-- 3rd January 2009 --
The rainbow faded out as the sound of the Underworld faded in. Bob the Titan appeared, already waving.
"Hey," Nico said.
"Hello!" greeted Bob. "What is up?"
Nico smiled. The Titan had been socialising with the spirits in the Underworld over the past week, even charming some of Persephone's notoriously cold handmaidens. Apparently he was very persistent.
"The sky. Sun. Stars," Nico joked.
Bob laughed, but it faded a little too fast. He muttered, "I remember... When...?"
Nico smiled reassuringly through the Titan's hesitation. It had been just over a week since Iapetus had his mind wiped in the Lethe, on Christmas Day. Nico had been calling Bob every day since, but he was a confused Titan all alone in the Underworld, without his memories. Nico promising to take care of him might well be the first memory he would ever be able to look back on. And if Nico knew anything about having your mind wiped in the Lethe, the first, oldest memory was defining. He wanted to be there. "Hey, big guy. I'll come to visit soon. I'm just a little busy right now. I promised, remember? No good breaking a promise."
Bob nodded astutely. "You are wise." Then he frowned. "And hurt?"
Nico followed the Titan's gaze to his arms and smiled halfheartedly. "I'm fine." He adjusted the bandages so they covered the cuts peeking out.
Persephone had just sent him wading through a sea of thorns to retrieve a magical rosebud, and of course the thorns were sharp enough to slice through three layers of clothing at the slightest suggestion of pressure. Nico's forearms were all scratched up keeping them away from his face.
Bob wasn't placated. "Is she also the one keeping you busy?" His silver eyes seemed very silver indeed.
Nico stared and decided to feign ignorance. "Who?"
"Lady Persephone," the Titan said, all bluster.
Nico chuckled. "You know I, uh, can't tell you that," he reprimanded.
Bob shook his head. "It is all right," he whispered to Nico. "I have heard her ordering you about."
Since Nico told Percy and Thalia what was really going on with Hades's sword in the Underworld, Persephone had been giving him task after task, keeping him constantly busy and constantly moving. Most of his tasks took weeks to complete, travelling and research and long, slow development. It was the work too long to fit inside a quest, too un-world-changing to reach Pythia, too personal to the gods that set them to be considered the right thing to do. Things Half-Blood didn't or couldn't or wouldn't do.
But Persephone wasn't setting him tasks because she needed something done, and she wasn't attempting to hide that: she set him deadlines in terms of hours, not weeks. She made him travel across the country and then back again just to plant a specific seed in a specific patch of dirt. She made him fight his way through a moat of thorns only to casually show him the section of her garden in the Underworld lush with the exact same flower.
Nico was exhausted. Persephone knew that. And she knew no matter what she asked him to do, he couldn't say no, because the Ambassador of the Gods couldn't say no.
"You... have very good hearing?" Nico replied blandly.
The Titan considered this. "Yes. Are you sure you do not want me to help, Nico di Angelo?"
Hades was too busy with his new sword and his rebelling subjects to notice Persephone's little side project. If Nico was being honest, he didn't know if Hades would do anything if he knew. Maybe he already knew. Nico himself was forbidden to tell one god's business to another on his own agency, anyway. Even if Chiron had figured out what was going on, he couldn't do anything -- Chiron had been doing nothing about the Ambassadors for decades already. Meanwhile, Persephone was getting as close as she could to murdering him without actually murdering him.
Only Bob, the recently erased Titan, had noticed at all. Nico didn't want to make him play politics with the gods by trying to help, to make him lose hope in a world he'd only known for eight days. Not when he was just as much under Persephone's mercy as Nico was.
"I'm fine," Nico smiled.
But he should never have told Percy and Thalia anything. He should have kept his mouth shut. Pretended to be shocked that Hades didn't know about the sword. Let them get used. Lied to them like he'd been doing for months since that stupid oath and this stupid ring. When they asked him what was wrong he should have snapped back like always, like he had when Annabeth asked him in Half-Blood last month where he was packing up to go, like he had when Thalia asked him how he had gotten shot in October.
Nico grinned sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck. "This um, this is on me. I mean, I'll handle it. So, what's going on with you? Has Lord Hades decided yet?"
Bob's silver eyes lit up. "Lord Hades has given me a job!" He backed up from the Iris message so Nico could see the blue janitor's uniform he was wearing, then pulled the wooden handle of a broom into view. "I cleaned a plot in the Fields of Punishment today. The spirit was reborn."
Nico smiled and observed the anger bubbling inside his throat. It was like his father wanted Bob to turn on them again. Bob was so nice now, so peaceful and surprisingly smart -- no one's first memories should be made in the Underworld. Definitely not anywhere near the Fields of Punishment. That place would make anyone, especially someone friendly enough to try to talk to the souls there, turn evil.
"That's good," Nico murmured.
"Hm, yes. Rebirth is good."
"Uhh..."
"Repentance," Bob said thoughtfully.
"Uh, yeah. Repentance is good." At least the Titan saw some good in the Fields of Punishment. "Anyway," Nico sighed, rubbing his brow. "I'm sorry. I need to go."
"I understand," Bob assured him. "Do not worry."
Nico gave him a flickering smile. "I'll visit. I promised. I'll be there with you as soon as possible, Bob."
Bob lit up. With his eyes, he could really light up. "I will show you all my new friends," he promised. "Can I ask you a question, Nico di Angelo?"
Nico wouldn't be surprised if deep down Bob remembered who he had been. Titans and gods loved calling Nico by his full name. It seemed almost irresistible, sometimes, for them -- something about the angel part, maybe. "Ask away."
"Will Bob's other friend visit as well?"
Nico's heart sank, but he blinked in confusion. "Percy? Um... Why?"
Bob nodded pensively. "He is different. He smells special. Special stronger."
"Yeah, he's... special, I'm sure. Um, I think he's busy, actually. Busy in a different way. Working hard. I don't think he'll be able to visit. But," Nico added quickly, "I'm sure he'd visit in a heartbeat if he had the chance. He'd love to come and see you."
Bob nodded, but Nico could see he was crestfallen.
"He's a good friend," Nico promised gently. "He just can't come. It's too bad. Yeah?"
Bob smiled. "It is all right. I will wait for you, Nico di Angelo."
"Bye, Bob," Nico said.
The image faded out, and when the rainbow returned Nico slipped the prism back into its case. He sighed and looked around himself at the forest for a moment. It was chilly and quiet, grey skies and subdued flora. He needed to call Chiron, too. And visit Camp Jupiter.
Step by step. After this task, he'd see how things played out. Maybe he'd have time to catch some sleep. But right now...
How many of these have we done, Ambassador? Eight? Nine?
Nico hefted his pack onto his shoulders and secured the straps. Persephone's voice was the rustling of flowers, the fruiting of a tree in fast forward, the shake of desert grass at the crest of a dune.
Do you know what is infuriating? No amount of fatigue seems capable of killing you. Usually demigods are ever the most fragile beings.
He had just let her talk. Nico began to trudge towards the home of the sorceress that was his task. He should only have been one or two kilometers away now.
It shouldn't be difficult. You must have done this many times before.
Nico gritted his teeth to stop his jaw from shaking.
Why? Does a reason really matter to you, Ambassador? You will do it either way. Oh, fine. If it so pleases you, the witch disrespected me. She challenges my honour with her excessive displays. You will see what I mean when you find her.
Nico had been surprised to hear greed like that in the voice of a literal god. But now, he realised he had heard it many times before, and it was not unique to Lady Persephone.
I-- I'm sorry, Nico had said. What do you want me to do?
Nico pushed aside the branch of a young tree and stepped into a clearing. Standing shining on top of the little hill was a house made of flowers.
Massive blooms made up the walls. Great leaves the size of umbrellas, palm fronds grown interwoven, tiled the roof. Little flowers hung from roof to window like fairy lights. The air was thick with sweet nectar and spring pollen and powerful magic. It all shone with a million colours, and it took Nico's breath away and held it hostage.
I want you to kill the girl, Ambassador.