Nico POV
For some reason, my name seemed to truly be the only thing any of the others found important. They drilled me about it like their lives depended on it. I kept dodging the question, changing the subject, or, when I was feeling brave, just blatantly ignoring them.
The ride back was long, but the rebels kept me busy when the prince ran out of things to talk about. They sang, and one of them had a ukulele, and we were all laughing so hard there were several plunders where we almost fell off our horses. I had had to save W—the prince once, pulling him back on before it was too late.
The prince. I don't know what to say about him. Maybe another test, but it was unlikely. There weren't many rules about love in the army, and none that seemed to apply to him. I was terrified of him still. I had almost kissed him. I had looked him right in the face (what is it with me and breaking the most basic rules of the army?) and almost kissed him.
And aside from that, Thalia had tricked me into talking without permission this morning. Everything was falling apart; all the things I'd worked so hard to learn well as a soldier were crumbling before me and these rebels seemed to be excited about it. Of course they'd be excited. Jerks.
The prince shifted behind me, causing his arms to brush mine. My heart sped up and I shivered.
This is what I'm talking about. This is not Nico di Angelo—I was supposed to be fierce and bloodthirsty, and yet here I was, sharing a horse with the prince, shivering when his skin brushed mine, and almost kissing him by the river. Whatever this test was, I was failing miserably and I had better figure out how to turn that around again before this all catches up to me.
The singing rebels began a new song, but they were laughing too hard for me to make out the lyrics. I swore we only had water in these bottles we'd been given, but this group really acted otherwise. You'd think rebels would be scary. But then again, you'd think a soldier would be at least a little intimidating and yet that little girl, Hazel, had just fallen asleep on my last night. Figures that I would soften up like this right as I enter the rebel camp.
And what the hell was I supposed to do when we do get into the camp? This was something that had bothered me since the beginning. If I betray the camp, I betray my superiors and my prince, which isn't allowed. If I don't, I'm betraying my king and queen and the army, which is even more terrifying.
The rebels' song turned somber; it was a mourning song, about mourning both those who are lost and those about to be lost. I couldn't help but think I was definitely one of the ones about to be lost. With all these rules being broken, it didn't seem to make sense to hope that I could survive this whole thing unharmed.
Will—no, the prince nudged me, smiling, as the song changed again. A love song. He sang under his breath. I didn't.
I didn't think about how his voice actually sounded pretty nice. And I also didn't think about how attractive he was, what with the whole "sun-god" aesthetic he's got going on.
We arrived at the rebel camp and the cold dread sitting in my stomach refused to budge as I unmounted the horse and walked with the prince to take it back to the stables. He was still smiling, humming that song. It was quiet otherwise. I avoided looking at him.
"Can I ask you a question? It might be kind of personal."
I glanced at his feet and back over to the sky, which was dark and filled with stars again. "Sure, your majesty."
He led the horse into the stall. "Is—" He pauses, doubting himself. Then he starts again, and his uncomfortable tone tells me he knows this might be an awkward question: "Is the not looking at people, is that a soldier thing, or a you thing?"
I blinked. "Um, a soldier thing."
He raised his chin. "Okay. You know you don't have to follow those rules still though. We don't really want you to."
I worked my jaw and fiddled with a loose thread on my uniform. Yes, I could tell they didn't want me to follow the rules. It was going to get me killed one day.
He sighed. "Okay, let's go back to Reyna's tent and we'll figure out sleeping arrangements. I haven't been here very long, but before when I first found them, it kind of just looked like they put sleeping bags or blankets wherever they could fit them. Most people don't have tents, but we'll see if we're lucky."
I followed him through unknown territory, feeling eyes follow me the whole way there as people settled down. Will was right. People seemed to just lay their sleeping bag wherever it suited them, a stark difference from the assigned rows or bunks in General Ares's army. I didn't know which I liked better yet.
Reyna was obviously stressed as we entered her tent, and we found we were not the only one with questions. She was flooded with reports, death tolls, and complaints. She looked at us with tired eyes.
I reached in my bag and pulled out a small chocolate I'd been given before my execution. I'd been too sick to eat it despite its purpose to calm the criminal down, and I came up with a different plan to use it that had felt more epic at the time than just dying without a fight. I figured if I was going down, I might as well cause a panic in my wake. Tell the crowd "Whoever catches it is next" like newly married wives do, and then I could've watched chaos ensue as I was shot. Truly, it would have been high quality death-bed entertainment. But my execution hadn't come, and now I had the execution chocolate sitting in my bag with no purpose.
I tossed it onto her desk. I figured if it was said to be able to calm down a soldier about to be killed, it could probably help her relax, too. (A/N: wouldn't it be absolutely epic if the chocolate symbolized the next person to die and like throughout the story, the chocolate was a horrible omen meant to put readers on edge? I might take notes on this idea, I kind of think it's genius ngl) She recognized its original purpose (they gave these chocolates to any soldier about to be executed—she's probably seen it before through a friend or colleague) and gave me a weak smile. "Thanks, Ten." She closed her eyes and sighed before opening them and standing up to talk to us. "I guess you two are probably here for sleeping bags and clothes?"
"I could do with just a sleeping bag," the Prince said.
"I'd rather like to keep my uniform if that's okay," I told her apologetically.
"What? Are you serious?" Reyna asked. "I wanted to drop mine as soon as I escaped. I figured you would, too, what with the memories and things that go along with it." Her eyes moved over me suspiciously, as if she thought I was a spy. Uh, excuse me, Reyna, but was I the one that chose to be here? Because I'm pretty sure I remember basically being kidnapped.
Nevertheless, I kept my face as neutral as possible. "I'd like to keep it."
She ran her hand through her hair. "Okay, whatever, that's fine. You'll need another set of clothes soon, though, and then I sincerely doubt we'll have a replacement uniform for you. Okay?"
I nodded curtly.
I did like my uniform. In the army, things made sense. Even if the logic was painful and destructive, there was clear logic. We slept and stood and ate in rows. We wore uniforms, and there were regulations about hair length. We had a strict schedule. Difficult training. But it added up, like one and one makes two, and everything we did meant something.
Now, I've been thrown into a rebellion I hardly asked to be a part of, and the rules I've learned my whole life have been thrown to the wind. Everything is criss-crossed, blended, abstract. It was overwhelming and terrifying. The only clear rule I could see was that Reyna was the leader so we have to listen to her, but even that contrasts with the law and tradition. Royalty came first—Prince William should be calling the shots, not Reyna or anyone else. This uniform was the last piece of logic I had, and I was not about to let it be taken away too.
Plus, the uniform did make me look kind of badass.
*cough* Anyway.
We got our supplies from Reyna and left her alone. Our group still had to eat dinner so there were people working at a bonfire to cook our food. The sleeping rebels had avoided sleeping near the fire due to the light but Will—God, no, Prince William; you'd think I'd have an easier time with this—said it would "make for a romantic first night with the rebellion" (and he wonders why all of this is so confusing to me; what kind of public figure flirts with random soldier boys) so we set our things down there to claim a spot.
The chefs finished cooking and gatherers returned with berries. We laid out a blanket for a picnic and I took out my bun, running my hand through my hair. The prince looked up at me and his cheeks went pink for a moment.
"You okay, your majesty?" I asked.
He kept his eyes on the blanket, smoothing out a wrinkle with his hand unsuccessfully. "Uh, hey, you don't need to call me 'your majesty.' It's a little weird."
I raised my eyebrow as I began tying up my hair again. I needed something stronger to hold it. "Okay, way to be subtle in the change of subject, your majesty."
He laughed nervously. "No, it's—I'm fine."
"You turned a bit red there for a second."
Thalia joined us, dropping her weapons near me with a loud clang that made me flinch. "He turned red because he thought you looked hot with your hair down, soldier."
I gave her a look. "Ma'am, I'm not s—"
She narrowed her eyes. "I'm pretty sure we already talked about this whole 'ma'am' thing, Ten."
I tugged at the frayed end of my sleeve. "I'm pretty sure I already corrected this whole 'Ten' thing, but here we are—"
"That is only because you haven't told us your real name and Ten-Seventeen is a bit of a mouthful," Will said, seemingly completely recovered from the 'he thinks you're hot' comment from earlier. "Does it really bother you, or are you only uncomfortable because it breaks the stupid rules General Ares made you follow?"
I worked my jaw. How many times had they tried to get me to break the rules in the last conversation? Like, four? I could probably find a fifth if I searched hard enough. This is getting ridiculous.
"Those rules are important—" I began.
"For what?" Thalia asked before throwing her hands in the air, exasperated. "For keeping you in line and obedient? For giving you nightmares or forcing you to kneel for hours on end with no sleep? Because that's what we're seeing, and that's what we're trying to stop. These rules are cruel, Ten."
I was rigid. I should not be arguing with them. God, I'm arguing with a rebel leader and royalty. I'm failing this. I'm failing all of this.
Prince William was as still as I was, waiting for my reaction, which I couldn't decide on. Thalia was breathing heavily. She crossed her arms over her chest. Finally, I knew there was no option left except a line I'd memorized, which I had never planned on using until now.
"I apologize for overstepping my mere third rank in order to argue with you, Ma'am. I should not have, and any punishment you or others choose would be just."
She groaned. "This is what I'm talking about. What happened to you—what they did to you—was horrible. I hate them for it, and so should you, Ten. God, we're calling you by a number. Does that not bother you? Does none of this bother you?"
I glared at her. "First, they are my superiors and my teachers, so I do not hate them, I respect them. They taught me things you obviously never learned. Second, you're calling me by the wrong number, and that is the only thing that I don't like about it. If someone catches you, you don't face the punishment—I do so please, continue calling me Ten if you'd like to see me dead within the week."
Prince William was nervous. "Ten, no one is going to kill you here. Well, I mean, battles can be dangerous obviously, but you'd never be hurt because of something so small as your name—"
I glared at him, then quickly looked back down when I realized my mistake. "Stop calling me that."
Thalia pushes my shoulder lightly. "Ten, it's not going to do anything. You're going to be fine."
Will nodded along. "Right, we're not here to hurt you."
I tasted blood in my mouth and realized I'd bitten my cheek so hard, I'd cut it. "Neither of you were there, you don't understand—"
"Then tell us. Teach us," Will offered.
"I'm trying," I snapped, but neither of them seemed to notice.
Well, Will might have. He leaned back an inch or two and swallowed. "I'm sorr—"
Thalia was still angry. "Don't apologize. If Ten doesn't want our help, fine, we won't give it to him. We're trying to get you to be happy, Ten, can you not understand that? I want you to be—"
My rage flooded my thoughts, and against everything I'd been working towards since I joined the army, I snapped for real this time, standing up and already stumbling a couple steps away from them. "Fine, then. You can see for yourself what happens when I step out of line. Let's see if I'm alive by the end of the month, shall we? I bet against it," I growled as I turned to walk into the woods near the edge of our camp. "My name is Nico di Angelo, by the way," I yelled back at them. "Let's see if my name gets a grave to accompany it when I'm gone."
Word count: 2434