When Nathan came around, he came around slowly. He felt like he'd had his soul ripped from his body, head pounding with each breath he managed to take. The realisation that he was still alive was another thing that came slowly, disappointment surging through his veins when he realised that Thanatos had not taken him to the land below.
For a moment he considered lying there until death came to collect.
It was only when he remembered that he was on the floor of the Labyrinth that he realised it would be best for him to start moving before he encountered something that he was in no fit state to face. He pushed himself up slowly, wincing whenever he moved too fast. When he finally managed to get to his feet, he had to lean against the wall for a moment to catch his breath, resting one hand on the hilt of his sword – the sword he'd had to slip into the Chaos Cabin to reclaim while its inhabitants were at dinner – while using the other to support himself to ensure he didn't slip down.
The first few steps he managed to take were tentative and slow. Pain hindered every step, but he gritted his teeth and refused to give up. He didn't want to stop until he got somewhere safe, somewhere outside the boundaries of Camp Half-Blood. It wasn't that he didn't consider Camp safe, he just didn't want to take his chances when the four people who could attest to his innocence were lying seemingly unconscious where he'd left them.
Nathan sincerely hoped that they'd just been unconscious. The alternative left the unpleasant taste of guilt in his mouth and an unsettled feeling in his stomach.
He wouldn't have done himself any favours if someone had stumbled upon them when the only conscious person was the one who was supposed to be chained up below deck on Valdez's infernal flying contraption.
It technically wasn't his fault that Eros had dropped a hairpin, but he was the one who had spent the better part of an hour trying to drag it towards himself with his foot before spending even more time using it to pick the lock on his manacles. Escaping from their hold didn't exactly paint him in the best light, even if he'd had a good ulterior motive for the first time in his life.
A guilty conscience was one Erebus of a thing.
He'd known that Percy was the type to do something stupid and selfless and that much had been confirmed when he'd been poking through his former Cabin-Mate's bedroom, intent on finding his stolen sword, and had managed to find the damned incantation Aether ended up reciting first. It didn't take a genius to realise what they were going to do.
Nathan stumbled through the archway, expecting it to simply lead into another corridor. He froze when he realised that it did not.
The temperature seemed to drop then and there. He took a few tentative steps forward, despite his heart urging him to turn around and run back the way he came.
The three women looked up from the sweater that they were knitting, equally sinister smiles on each of their faces.
The Fates.
"Nathaniel Mallory," they greeted in sync with one another and his heart dropped into his shoes. He desperately tried to scramble through his memories in order to remember their names, mentally trying to identify them so he didn't seem like a fool. His heart wrenched at the sound of his true name, making him think of his father and the realisation that he may never know what happened to him in the wake of his mother's defeat.
"I haven't heard that name spoken aloud for a long time," he blurted out, despite his brain telling him that he needed to be respectful and play his cards correctly if he wanted to walk away from this meeting intact.
Nathan was well aware of the fact that he had flouted their rules and wrecked their plans by resurrecting Octavian from the grave, making those who would govern his life and death an unwise enemy. He was also well aware of the fact that he would be incapable of looking them in the eye and admitting regret. He regretted how he orchestrated his boyfriend's resurrection, yes, but he couldn't bring himself to regret the time that they had spent together.
"Do you know why we are here, Nathaniel?" The one seated between her sisters, the one who would wield the scissors resting in her lap, ignored his outburst and regarded him with a cold stare.
Atropos, The Fate of Death.
There was only one reason Nathan could think of and he bowed his head for a moment before looking up at them with wide eyes. "Did he suffer?"
"Are you inquiring about your father or your lover?" Clotho, the one who spun the thread, asked him with a raise of her brow.
His heart was no longer in his shoes. It had fallen straight into the depths of the Underworld.
"My dad?" Nathan asked weakly. He felt like he was going to fall to the floor, like his legs were about to give out beneath him. "What do you mean my dad?"
"We can only give you answers about one, Nathaniel," Lachesis informed him as she measured the sea-green yarn that they had been spinning into a sweater. "So which one is it to be?"
Nathan stared at them, dumbfounded. He didn't want to make such an abhorrent choice but he knew that he had to. He couldn't just refuse to choose because they'd either choose for him or walk away without giving him information on either party. Obviously he had questions about Octavian, but he'd been searching for information about his dad ever since Gaia had come into their lives to no avail. On one hand, he was desperate to get those answers, but he knew he'd never be able to unhear their information if it wasn't what he wanted to hear.
With Octavian, he knew it would be simple. He knew that they'd just tell him what he already knew in his heart of hearts; that Octavian had died, and he had died at their hand. If he didn't ask about his dad, he could still pretend that there was a chance he was alive and well.
"Octavian," he managed to force out, making an executive decision. "Please can you tell me about Octavian?"
"Well," Atropos gave him a wicked smile as she leant forward, shears in hand. She snipped the yarn that Lachesis was holding steady and Nathan flinched, wondering who's string of fate they had just severed. "He's not dead."
Prior to the Olympian Assembly stumbling through Hestia's Hearth to find a sight that Poseidon wanted to burn from his memory, their meeting had been in a state of complete chaos.
"-an't believe that you're refusing to let us go and help," Hermes yelled at Hera, glaring at Olympus' Queen with fury in his eyes. "My son could be fighting for his life right now and all you care about is whether or not you'll have to give your crown to Amphitrite for the foreseeable future."
"I say we should ask Apollo what the future holds- Oh wait, we can't," Hades' tone was drier than the Sahara. "Because he's at Camp Half-Blood with our children, just like we should be."
"We're staying here and that's that!" Hera shot back sharply.
Poseidon groaned, reluctantly lifting his head up to look at the room properly, instead of half hiding his gaze with the hand he was leaning on. He wanted nothing more than to tell Hera to 'shut up' at that moment, but he was well aware that the way he said it would not be diplomatic in the slightest.
"After the stunt Chaos pulled today, I think you'll find that you're the last person we should be listening to," Hermes retorted. "Since dear old dad is no longer-"
"Hermes," Zeus snapped, facial expression akin to thunder. It was nothing new, but Poseidon couldn't stop himself from rolling his eyes regardless. "Just because Chaos appointed Poseidon as the King of the Gods, it does not make it so."
Poseidon rolled his eyes again.
"I'd ask if you were dropped by your father as a child, but for that, you'd have had to have been held," Hermes snorted. "And we all know that didn't happen."
"I was dropped by my father as a child," Hephaestus muttered from where he was slouching in his throne, eyes fixed on the screen of his hPhone. Poseidon had a feeling that he was somehow watching a livestream of the battle, but he didn't want to ask. "Or was it my mother?"
"It's pretty easy to become myth-taken on stuff like that," Hermes laughed at his own joke. "I wouldn't put it past either of them."
"Thank you, Hermes," Zeus spoke through gritted teeth. "As I was saying, I-"
"Oh, do shut up," Hades cut him off. "Poseidon, will you please just tell Zeus he's being an ass and we should all go to Camp Half-Blood immediately?"
"Zeus, you're being an ass," Poseidon happily informed him. "Listen to Hades and shut up."
"I bet you're both loving this," Zeus sneered in response. "The pair of you have finally gotten what you wanted; me off the throne and one of you on it. At long last, little brother isn't your King anymore."
Poseidon rolled his eyes. Again.
Contrary to popular belief, he didn't want to have this argument again. It had lost its novelty around the tenth time that Zeus had initiated it and he'd lost count of where they were with the numbers now.
"Still silent on the matter, Poseidon?" Hera asked bitterly.
"For the love of all that is holy, I have not been silent on the matter during the multiple times this argument has occurred," Poseidon finally snapped, ignoring his headache in favour of snapping at her. "And I do not plan to be silent on the matter this time around either. I just want you to have a little compassion for the rest of us, Hera. You may not have any children at that Camp, but you could certainly show a little care towards those of us who do."
Pain surged through his chest at the thought of Percy, a pain that was only magnified when each of their names crossed his mind. Percy, Triton, Bellerophon, Orion, and Theseus. His boys. All of whom were engaged in a battle for their lives and he wasn't there to fight with them, for them. Instead, he was stuck here, nursing a skull-splitting headache called Zeus.
His actual headache was a walk in the park in comparison.
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Hestia move from her throne to her hearth with clear concern in her movements.
"Oh, there are demigods that I care about!" Hera insisted before he could ask Hestia what was wrong.
"I think my ears may have just deceived me there, did you just say demigods, plural?" Poseidon raised an eyebrow.
"No, you heard correctly," Athena assured him.
"My apologies, Hera," Poseidon huffed. "I assumed that the list of demigods you cared about started with 'J' and ended with '-ason', but I must be mistaken. After all, it's not like you placed Jason in an environment in which he was largely safe until he was whisked away to Camp Half-Blood within the afternoon when you left Percy on the streets, without his memories, and at the mercy of whatever monsters took a liking to the scent of little sea god. For months."
"I am not the only one to blame for those events," Hera sniffed imperiously. "Apollo-"
"Apollo isn't even here to defend himself," Hermes cut her off. "So don't even start."
"I highly doubt that Apollo would have ever done such a thing to Percy either," Aphrodite informed the room as she inspected her nails. She'd just filed them to points and Poseidon was rather hoping she was going to use them to tear someone's face off. "He thinks he's rather precious."
"Oh yeah, I'm sure that's all Apollo thinks about Jackson," Ares snorted. He was slouched low in his throne, arms folded like a stubborn child. He hadn't appreciated the word 'no' when it was the answer on whether or not they were going to war. "We all know that Sunburn wants-"
"Ares?" Poseidon glared at him. "Do me a favour and try and run yourself over next time you ride your bike? Thanks."
"I hate to interrupt, but-"
"Jeez Uncle P, lighten up," Ares rolled his eyes. "Or are you not that happy about the fact Apollo thinks the sun shines out of Jackson's-"
"Ares!" Aphrodite retaliated for him, nailing him between the eyes with her nail file.
"Ow, babe, what was that for?" Ares groaned and rubbed at his head.
"Did I seriously hit you that hard that you think calling me 'babe' is a normal occurrence?" Aphrodite rolled her eyes, managing to cover for his indiscretion. They were fooling nobody, but at least she was trying. "I thought we called you 'thick' in regard to the density of your skull, but apparently we've been wrong for all these years."
"If I could just-"
"Who are you calling thick, Pageant Queen?" Ares glared at her. She'd clearly managed to hit a nerve – and not just the one she'd nailed with the nail file. "You're the one who was asked to describe their favourite date and you said 'April 25th' instead of actually describing your ideal date."
"I love that film," Dionysus informed them casually from where he was flicking through a wine magazine. "I've got an excellent selection of Bordeaux Vintage from the year it was released in the cellars at Camp and I'd rather save it from the forces of evil."
"You don't care about the two kids you have there, just the cellar full of wine?" Demeter rolled her eyes. "I hope it all turns to vinegar."
"Speaking of the children-"
"I'll let the Stoll brats glue chocolate bunnies to the roof of your Cabin again, Demeter," Dionysus threatened. "Do not lay a finger on my wine. Do you understand how hard I have worked to cultivate that collection so I can sample all that I have missed while I've had to work at that infernal Camp?"
"You've certainly worked harder to cultivate that collection than you have to protect our children," Hermes snorted. "And how dare you imply that my sons would use that prank for the third time, what do you take them for? You're going to put George and Martha off their rats."
"Rats?" George piped up from where Hermes' staff was propped against his throne. "Did somebody mention rats?"
"Not now, George," Hermes huffed. "Later."
"It's always later," George hissed, sounding sad. "You mention rats and never have them for poor George."
"If I may-"
"Now why would you lie to your poor-"
"For the love of all that is holy," Poseidon found himself repeating. "Will you all just shut up and let Hestia speak?"
Hestia stared at him with wide eyes before gesturing to her hearth. "I think there's something happening near my hearth in Camp. I can sense it."
"Surely the borders have not yet been breached?" Hades frowned, fear etching itself onto his face.
"I don't know," Hestia shook her head. "But sitting here and arguing isn't helping anyone. We need to go to Camp Half-Blood, immediately."
And when Poseidon stepped through the hearth to see Percy's prone form... Well, the sound of anguish he made could have brought Olympus to her knees.
There was an impending sense of dread in the pit of Will's stomach, concern writhing around his heart. It had been present ever since he and Nico had parted ways when Will had collected the Golden Fleece from the boughs of Thalia's Tree before retreating to the Infirmary with his precious charge, but it had exacerbated in the last hour. It had only gotten worse when an eerie force had swept through the Infirmary, making the hair on Will's arms stand on end and a chill run through his veins. It felt like Nico had just tugged him through a shadow, but he hadn't moved an inch from his desk.
He'd given up on pacing when he had realised that he was just making himself dizzy, having no more supplies to organise and lay out in preparation.
The doors burst open and he flinched, expecting the worst when the force nearly took them off their hinges. Lee and Michael stood there for a moment, breathless, before gesturing over their shoulders.
"We came to warn you," Lee panted slightly. "Battle's over, we won."
"Warn me?" Will couldn't keep the suspicion from his tone, knowing it was an odd choice of words for a statement that preceded a declaration of victory. "Warn me about what?"
"We've only got four major casualties," Michael winced. "And they're bringing them in now, but-"
"One of them is Nico, isn't it?" Will cut him off, realising there was no other reason why they had come to warn him when he was only seconds away from being presented with the truth. His brain caught on to the mention of four casualties, knowing damn well that it probably meant Nico had gone through with the thing he had called a 'last resort'.
Lee and Michael exchanged a familiar look. He'd seen it many a time before the Battle of the Labyrinth had taken Lee away from them. It was usually a signifier of difficult news that they didn't know how to break to Will, a blatant confirmation of his worries.
"Okay," he said faintly, sounding off even to his own ears. "How long until they get here?"
No amount of time was enough to prepare himself for the sight that befell him when Hades rushed in, cradling Nico to his chest. He'd always thought that the worst sight that would ever befall him would be that of his father having to break the news of Will's death to his boyfriend while Nico's desperate sobs rang in his ears, Will's ghostly form a spectre that neither of them could see.
Will was wrong.
Pain swelled in his chest, sorrow drowning out all other emotions. He didn't even have the energy to question what Nico had done; in his heart of hearts, he already knew. And he couldn't even fault him for it. He knew his boyfriend's thought process intimately now, Nico wasn't the type to rush to follow through on a last resort. A last resort truly would have been such.
"Here," he spoke on autopilot, gesturing to one of the prepared beds. "Set him down here."
Hades followed his instructions immediately, refusing to meet his eyes as he did.
Will was blind to the rest of the events that followed, focusing solely on stripping Nico of his armour and breathing a small sigh of relief when he realised that his boyfriend was actually breathing, it was just his armour that was making it appear otherwise.
Nico was breathing.
Will looked up in time to see Artemis carry Thalia through the door, closely followed by Eros. The god of love was carrying Aether, the god that Will barely knew a thing about, with an expression of stony stoicism. He expected his father to follow and was somewhat surprised to see Triton burst through in his stead, cradling the now thrice saviour of Olympus close to his chest.
Concern bubbled within Will once more and he wondered whether or not his brothers had been accurate in their assessment that there were only four major casualties. He would have thought that his father would have been the one to rush in with Percy in his arms and his concern only increased when Apollo wasn't even the next person through the door.
"I need help," Will looked to the other two sons of Apollo for aid.
"We bow to your expertise on this one," Lee shook his head, holding his hands up. "Whatever you say, we'll do."
Will just nodded. "Lee, help Artemis with Thalia," he instructed, knowing that Lee was the least likely of the pair to start an argument with the goddess. "Michael, can you look after Nico for me?"
It pained him to do so, but he was well aware that it was the logical choice. He was worried that his judgement would become clouded by his emotions, so it made sense to take the responsibility away from himself. Even if it was the last thing he wanted to do.
"Are you-"
"No, I'm not," Will shook his head, already knowing what the rest of the question would be. "But let's just go with it before I change my mind."
They just nodded in response.
"I'll attend to Percy and-" he stopped, looking around in confusion. He raised his voice to be heard, drawing the eyes of the rest of the room when he spoke. "Where's my dad?"
Poseidon frowned, looking somewhat irritated that he'd had to take his attention from his son. The irritation seemed to grow when he looked around the room and realised the same thing as Will; Apollo wasn't there, the sun god a conspicuous absence.
"Give me a moment," Poseidon sighed, his reluctance clear as day as he made a move from his son's side. "I'll find him."
When they had laid eyes on the four still forms, there was a moment where it seemed as though time had frozen, as if Kronos had risen from the grave once more and hit pause on the world's clock. At least, that's what it had felt like to Apollo.
It was what had stopped him from rushing instantly to Percy's side, torn by his own indecision. It hadn't been just one person he cared about lying still, it was four. He may have been the first to reach the meadow, but he had certainly been the last to step onto the actual grass.
He hadn't wanted to lean down and press his fingers to Percy's neck to find no pulse, not when he'd have to place his fingers there and hope that they didn't whisper against the necklace he'd looped around it earlier that night. For luck.
Apollo should have known what his own personal brand of luck entailed.
It had been his own distraction that had allowed Orion the opportunity to place himself in Apollo's path when he had finally been prompted to move by Luke's assertion that Percy had made a promise to the son of Hermes. Percy had made Apollo a promise too, a promise that had been his prime incentive to start moving.
Which was what led to the situation he was now in.
The meadow was now devoid of other people, leaving Apollo under the moonlight. Alone.
He wanted nothing more than to follow the path to the Infirmary, to follow in the frantic footsteps of the others. However, his recollection of the softly hissed '-if you think I'm going to let you anywhere near him when this is your version of looking after him, you've got another thing coming-' that had come from Orion's lips stopped him in his tracks every time he dared take a step.
Despite knowing logically that Orion was only lashing out because of the hurt he was feeling, he couldn't help but think that the man had a point. He'd already warned Apollo once of the consequences of hurting Percy and he was too exhausted to try and push the issue now.
"Apollo!" Poseidon's shout drew his attention back to earth, making him flinch and look in the direction of the path he should have headed down long ago. Olympus' new King was currently sharing the face of the old, thunder settled firmly on his features. "Have you lost your mind?"
Apollo shook his head in response, taking a few tentative steps in the direction of the sea god. He didn't want to test his temper, not when he knew that it would be ten times worse than that of his son's.
"You're needed in the Infirmary," Poseidon informed him, stating the words that he didn't want to hear.
"Me?" Apollo decided to push his luck ever so slightly, to see whether or not Poseidon would insist or if he would suddenly subscribe to his son's line of thinking.
"Do you see another god of healing around here?" Poseidon asked, eyebrows raised. "Infirmary, now."
Apollo didn't need telling twice this time.
The feeling of hopelessness didn't go away when he finally crossed the threshold, ushered over to attend to Aether by his son before he could even catch a glimpse of Percy's face. It felt like the Fates themselves were conspiring to keep them apart; to stop them from having the conversation that Apollo desperately longed to have, to stop him from even reassuring himself that his demigod still lived. To stop him from pressing his fingers to Percy's pulse for even a moment to familiarise himself with a rhythm he never wanted to forget.
"What's wrong with them?" Artemis demanded answers from him before he had even checked for Aether's pulse.
"Sister, you're going to have to give me a little longer than a few seconds to figure that out," Apollo warned, delicately lifting Aether's wrist with only thumb and forefinger in order to feel his pulse.
After a few moments he frowned, unable to find a discernible pattern. It was as if his heart were changing pace every few seconds, as if it didn't know where to settle. He desperately wanted to lay hands on the rest of the room to see if their heart rates were in a similar state, but the fierce glare he received from Percy's multiple siblings froze him in place.
"What's wrong with them?" Artemis repeated, sounding impatient from where she was hovering beside Thalia, Zoë and Bianca by her side.
Apollo looked around the room, wanting nothing more than to banish those who had no reason to be there. They were doing nothing but getting in the way of those who were actually trying to help, but he knew it would be harsh to say when the gravitas of their situation was only just dawning.
"As I said," he responded to his sister through gritted teeth when he realised she was genuinely expecting a response. "I don't know yet."
"What do you mean, you don't know?" Orion snapped. "Are we genuinely supposed to believe that Percy didn't tell you what he had planned?"
"He didn't," Apollo retorted. His mind went, unbidden, to earlier that day, when Percy had looked him in the eye and said 'I'll try' in response to Apollo asking if his word would be enough to stop him from doing something stupidly self-sacrificial. He remembered the way that Percy had tensed under his hold – only for a second – before giving his answer and Apollo knew there and then that Percy had known that there would be a chance of this happening and he didn't give him a forewarning. He just hoped that it meant that Percy had truly wanted to avoid this at all costs, instead of hoping that he'd have a sure-fire way of getting out of their conversation with Apollo being none the wiser. "He didn't tell me anything."
Across the room, he could see his son become extremely interested in wiping the smear of dried blood from Percy's cheek; the smear that had been fresh after their joint venture against the Hydra, the smear that Apollo had wanted to wipe off gently before joining their lips on the field of combat.
"Will?" Apollo tried to keep his voice level. "Did Nico tell you anything?"
Will flinched before he looked up, resolutely refusing to meet his eyes as he shook his head.
It was a lie, that much he could clearly sense. Apollo wasn't even willing to call him out for it, knowing that his own pain was likely mirrored in Will's heart. He wasn't the only one with a loved one lying in an infirmary bed and he had to keep reminding himself of that particular fact.
Instead, he sighed. "Look, if I don't know what they've done, I'm not sure that there's much I can do. Not until we either figure it out or one of them comes round. Whatever comes first."
"What do you mean, you're not sure what you can do for them?" Luke asked, voice sharp. "Can't you just do some 'flower gleam and glow' shit and fix them?"
Apollo couldn't help but think of when Percy had jokingly called him Rapunzel when they were locked inside Eros' cell together, tending to the love god's injuries while the rest of the Questers – bar Nico – lay in wait for Nathan on the other side of the cell door. He let the warmth of the memory wash over him for a second before sighing.
He bit his lip, stressed about the fact that he was effectively useless in this situation; severely out of his depth, unaware of what he could do to be of use. Apollo didn't like feeling useless at the best of times; this was far worse than anything he had experienced for a long time. Since Will had passed in his arms and he'd had to watch the light drain from his son's eyes. "There's nothing more that I'd want right now than to just be able to have magic hair that would glow when I sang and have that fix all of my problems," he forced himself to continue on, not wanting to think of Will's death in too much detail when stuck in their current situation. Instead, he looked at the prone bodies in the infirmary beds, stomach twisting when his gaze fell on Percy, unobstructed for the first time. He was unused to seeing the lively demigod so, well, lifeless. "Unfortunately, while I could make my hair glow if I really wanted to, I doubt it would do much good for our patients. Not when I don't even know what they did."
His hand slipped down from Aether's wrist, covering the hand of his old friend with his own as the room was blissfully silent for a moment. He was tempted to refuse to lift his gaze and meet the judgement of those who watched, but he knew he'd have to eventually.
"You can't tell us anything?" Bianca asked from where she'd exchanged Artemis' side for Nico's. Her grief was obvious and his heart bled for her.
"No," he shook his head. "I'm practically Jon Snow in this situation."
"Half of the room is too young to understand that reference, brother," Artemis reminded him. Her gaze was heavy and he wanted to tear his eyes away from her, knowing that she'd be staring right through him at that moment. "Or too old."
He opened his mouth to retort before realising that Aether's hand had just twitched in his.
"Did you feel that too?" Eros asked in a hushed tone from where he was on the other side of Aether's bed. Apollo chose to avoid asking if Eros was holding Aether's free hand, already knowing that the god of love would issue a vehement denial if his actions were called out.
"Feel what?" Will asked, hope flickering across his tired face. His gaze went towards Nico for a moment, but he stayed firmly by Percy's side.
Apollo didn't answer, distracted by the movement beneath Aether's eyelids.
Eros let out a soft gasp, the sudden twitch of their fellow god's hands in theirs the only warning they had before he was sitting bolt upright, eyes flaring open.
Apollo's heart dropped at the sight.
Aether's eyes flickered rapidly; changing from Percy's sea-green to Thalia's lightning blue, then Nico's shadow grey to Aether's forest green. They were a kaleidoscope of colour, a macabre impersonation of a poorly rendered gradient before they settled back to the mirror of a storm-swept sea.
"I don't know what happened," Aether spoke, but it was not the voice that any of them expected to leave his lips. His gaze fell onto their joined hands, as if he were seeing them for the first time before looking up and meeting Apollo's terrified blues. "But I think we're trapped."
END OF BOOK ONE