It had been an hour since Will was taken. An hour since Nico felt his soul go numb, since his heart shattered into a million little pieces, and not even Nico's father, for all his power, could resurrect it. He could feel his eyes, puffy and dryly stinging and probably horrendously red, droop. He was tired, and he hated himself for it. He should be out there, tracking Will down, saving him. It was his fault Will was taken in the first place.
If only he hadn't had that nightmare; if only he could have dealt with it like a normal person instead of freaking out. If only he'd never fallen asleep at all.
"You need sleep," Natasha observed. She had stayed with him for the past hour, sending Steve and Clint to gather the others and explain what'd happened, perhaps even see if they could track where the Harpies took Will-- it was a long shot, but one, Steve said adamantly, was worth taking. Nico had to admit, he was surprised it was Nat who stayed, because... Well. While she seemed like she was very nice, under all the layers of secrecy she had piled upon herself, if wasn't as if Nico had broken through those layers yet (at least not all of them), especially considering they'd only known each other for a few hours. And it was clear she was very new to the whole comforting business, unsure how to really help Nico through... this.
Still, Nico appreciated it. He liked Natasha well enough-- she seemed to have her shit together better than any of the other Avengers. And... he didn't know. He saw parts of himself in her.
"I don't wanna sleep," said Nico in a broken, scratchy voice. He was well aware he sounded like a petulant toddler denying a preschool nap, but he was well past caring. "I'll just get another nightmare."
Natasha paused. "Well," she said, "I'm not going anywhere, Nico. If you have a nightmare, I'll just wake you up, and then we can see where the others are at, okay?"
"You don't have to do that," Nico said, genuinely touched.
"I kinda do," she said. "Now let's get you into bed."
~*~
The sky was lightening, wispy tendrils of orange and pink and yellow breaking through the greyish-blue beginnings of dawn. The sun peaked above the crest of the distant ocean, bright and hot, glinting off the murkish brown water around them. Nico caught a glimpse of familiar blond hair.
"Will," he choked out, tears brimming once again to his eyes, which was kind of annoying, because he thought he was past crying now. It was clear his voice was not heard-- not that he expected it to be. He knew this was a normal dream (well, as normal as a demigod dreams ever could be), and that only beings of immense power could notice him, but... He pushed down his thoughts and his hopes and focused on the scene before him.
"I TOLD YOU TO BRING ME THE SON OF HADES," boomed a voice, loud and angry. It came from a man atop a throne of rock, resting sturdy on the mud-crack floor.
He was tall, extremely so, his bronze skin stretched tight against his well-defined and numerous muscles. His eyes, a bright blood red, gleamed malevolently from beneath his shaggy black hair, and his brows were drawn in anger. He was garbed in a black tunic, covered by reddish metal plates of armor; in his hands, he held a mighty war axe of stygian iron, mounted on a red-painted wooden shaft. This was no mortal.
Also, this guy really had a ridiculous penchant for red and black.
"I am sorry, My Lord," a harpy squawked, "but--"
The man decapitated it mid sentence.
"SOMEONE TELL ME WHY YOU FAILED SUCH A SIMPLE TASK WITHOUT ALL THE DAMNED DRIVEL!"
Another harpy stepped forward, hesitant and gulping. Its eyes flickered up nervously. "M'Lord, the boy was with the Son of Hades."
"SO?!"
"We believe the boy to be close to him," the harpy said, "Important."
"Just because they were near each other doesn't mean he is of import to him," growled the man. "At best it means they know each other, or, more likely, it was just a coincidence."
"True," conceded the harpy, "Except he is covered in the Son of Hades' scent, and... when we took him, the boy seemed quite upset."
"Oh, really?" The man was grinning now. It was not pleasant to look at the way most smiles are; rather, it was mean and deeply unsettling, telling of troubles to come. "Then I guess I won't kill you this time. But, you..." he turned now towards Will. "What to do with you?"
"I don't know," said Will, sarcastic. There were claw marks on his arms, and his shirt was torn badly, but he didn't seem too injured otherwise. The wounds on his hands must have heeled, or at least stopped bleeding. "Maybe leave me the hell alone?" Nico felt immensely proud.
That's my boyfriend, he thought.
The man backhanded Will, and Nico nearly threw himself forward to-- to what? This was a dream. There wasn't much he could do.
Hey, he tensed in anger, that's my boyfriend! He thought about moving forward, about-- what? Waving a non-corporeal hand in his face? Potentially revealing himself? No. As much as he hated it, he had to stay put.
"SILENCE, SON OF APOLLO!" the man bellowed.
Will stretched his jaw out, a bright red mark already forming on his face. He glared at the man. "Who the Hell even are you?"
"I AM MENOETIUS, SON OF IAPETUS AND CLYMENE, TITAN OF ANGER AND RASHNESS!"
Yeah, thought Nico, no shit. Dumbass.
"My lord," a dracaena said, almost indignantly. "I am not sssure it isss wissse to--"
With an easy swing of his axe, Menoetius turned her to dust. "ANYONE ELSE WANT TO QUESTION ME?" All monsters within a good twenty feet of him backed away, shaking their heads fervently, their eyes wide with fear. "Good," the Titan grinned, "Now..." he chuckled, "Oh, Son of Apollo, I think I know exactly what to do with you."
The hairs began to prickle on the back of Nico's neck as a deep sense of foreboding filled him. He focused harder than he had ever focused on a dream before, and the feeling only amplified.
"Soldier!" called Menoetius. "Why don't you come out and greet our new guest."
A man walked out of the shadows, deep brown hair barely ghosting his shoulders. He wore all black, save a Celestial Bronze chest plate and a matching greave on his right arm (weird fashion choice, thought Nico, but okay). He was well decorated with weapons of the same material, each of them strapped to him in easily accessible locations-- that said, the man must be seriously weighed down by all those daggers and guns and knives and swords. Most peculiar about this man, though, was his left arm-- from his shoulder to the tips of his fingers, it was not made of flesh and blood, but rather a glinting, worn-looking silver metal, a red star emblazoned on the bicep.
Despite all of this, though Nico knew him. It would be impossible for Nico not to recognize him, really-- after all, it was--
"Bucky?" Nico said, eyes wide, his brows furrowed in confusion. "Wh-- how--"
"Silence, young demigod," said a kind voice behind him. Nico whirled around-- he hadn't noticed a presence behind him, but then again, he was pretty focused on Will.
Nico knew this person-- well, being, really-- too. "Mnemosyne?"
There the Titaness was, locked in a cage of bronze. Her periwinkle-blue and silver dress pooled around her, dirty and torn, and yet she still looked soft, ethereal. Beautiful. She nodded towards Will. "Watch closely, Nico. And remember exactly what is said."
Nico obeyed. He wasn't stupid enough to disobey a Titaness, first of all, especially when she was trying to help, and, besides... he liked Mnemosyne well enough. She was always kind when Nico visited her in the Underworld, always willing to lend an ear, or sit in companionable silence for a while. So Nico fell quiet, focusing on the scene before him once again.
"Well?" Questioned Menoetius, impatient. Nico had missed part of the conversation, but apparently, nothing too important had occurred.
"It will work," said Bucky, but this was not the Bucky Nico knew. His voice was too flat, his face too devoid of emotion. It was chilling. What had happened to him?
"Good," Menoetius grinned maniacally.
"What the fuck are you--" Will's question was cut off as Menoetius placed a hand on his head, gripping tight. Nico watched in horror as an unseen, silent force surged through Will, and a shiver ran down his back. The air thickened, curdling as though it found the very act before it heinous. With a grin, Menoetius let go, looking expectant.
Something had happened to Will-- whatever it was Menoetius had done to him seemed to have worked, just as Bucky said it would. He was perfectly still, and the only reason Nico didn't fly into a blind panic was because he could still sense Will's soul in his body. But there was something... off about it, the same way something was off with Bucky's when Nico really focused on it.
Their souls were... tainted, almost. There was something more there, something that swept through them like a virus; something that grew on their very being like a tumor, pumping poison through their systems, changing them, somehow. Nico could feel their souls fighting back, trying to overcome it, but... it was too strong. Knowing that made Nico even more upset, somehow.
"Stand," commanded Menoetius, and, silently, Will obeyed. "Speak, demigod: what is your name."
"I have no name that matters, My Lord," said Will in a voice that was as flat and emotionless as Bucky's had been just moments before. "I am nothing but your soldier."
"Will," Nico said, a barely-held-back sob thickening his voice. "No."
"Nico," Mnemosyne said, her voice gentle and comforting. "Come towards me. There is yet more for you to learn."
Nico obeyed yet again (because anything was better than seeing this not-Will), walking through the bronze bars as though they were nothing. He would take any excuse to ignore what was happening just a few feet away from him. "Yes, Lady Mnemosyne?"
"Behold," she said, and she pointed out towards the small island they were on.
Nico was, quite frankly, shocked at what he saw then, which was surprising, given that after everything he'd just witnessed, he didn't think he'd ever be shocked again. In front of the prison, which was barely suspended over the murky brown water, was a path strewn with traps. First in Nico's view was the trip wire, only visible by the sun's gleam, just a few paces from the spiked door of the cave. The path before it was narrow, made of crumbling mud-cracked earth, and on either side was boiling water strewn periodically with sharp, gnarled spikes of tarnished metal. Before even that, however, was a razor thin wire, at torso level for most mortals, held up by the sole entrance of...
Something. It was unlike anything Nico had ever seen before, a dome of swirling, garish red energy. It was small, large enough to only just encompass the trapped walkway and Mnemosyne's cage, and it reeked of blood and death and something else entirely that Nico could not place. He did not know how he hadn't seen it before.
"What is that?"
Mnemosyne sighed grimly. "Not even I truly know," she admitted, "but it is lethal to all who touch it. It blocks all entryways but the one from the path, and I do not think anything could truly pierce it-- nothing, at least, that any mortal could possess. My nephew made certain that it would be a challenge for any hero to attempt to free me." She pressed a hand, cool and soft, to Nico's forehead. "You will remember all you have seen, perfectly, until your quest it complete."
"Lady Mnemosyne," Nico said, voice soft. "I... why are you showing me this?"
She laughed softly at Nico. "You think that because I am a Titan-goddess I refrain from directly interfering with mortals?"
"... Pretty much, yeah."
"Normally, you would be correct. But..." A stony look crossed Mnemosyne's face. "I do not know what my nephew has planned, but I know it does not bode well for any above the depths of Tartarus. I..." she huffed out a sigh. "You have to understand, Nico. I trust you, but I do not trust in the ability of the Fates to send you on the right path, unaided. You will need all the time you can get to prepare, and none of us can afford for you to waste that time on trying to know your enemy, to know the stakes at play. My nephew has not shared his plans, Nico, but I know him having captured me bodes badly. This is not a time for cryptic riddles."
"Lady Mnemosyne, I--"
The Titaness cut him off with a fond smile. "Shush, Son of Hades. You must awaken now; I have kept you long enough, and soon you shall be noticed." She sighed again, her smile turning sad. "There is still so much for you to do. I'm sorry."
And with a snap of her fingers, Nico woke up.
Nico's eyes flew open, and he shot upright, eyes wide.
"Nico?" Natasha asked. She was sitting at the desk, watching him. "Are you--"
"JARVIS?" Nico called.
"Yes, Mr. di Angelo?"
"Are the others still awake?" Nico asked, getting out of the bed and throwing on his robe (Will had gotten it for him as a joke; it was mostly black, emblazoned with dancing skeletons. Nico didn't want to think about it long, lest his heart start to ache even more).
"Yes, sir," J.A.R.V.I.S. replied, "they are in the living area. Would you like me to call the elevator?"
"Yes, please," said Nico, quietly. But it seemed to be loud enough for J.A.R.V.I.S. to hear, for the AI announced it's leaving with a soft beep. Nico made his way towards to door, his mind racing, only to be stopped by Natasha, who grabbed his arm gently-- long enough to stop him, but short enough so that he didn't lash out at her instinctually.
"Hey," Natasha's brows were furrowed in concern. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," Nico said, the 'fine' long and drawn out. He was confused.
"Nico. You're crying."
Nico touched his cheek; sure enough, it was wet with tears. "Oh."
"Was it a dream?" Natasha asked. "You were... restless. I tried to wake you up, but you were unresponsive. I just figured you needed the sleep."
"I... yes. It was a dream. I-- I'll explain more when we're with the others."
Natasha looked as if she were going to ask more of him, but stopped herself, her lips pursed. "...Okay. Let's go, then."
~*~
When Nico walked into the Living Room, all eyes snapped to him. He hated it. He didn't want their pity, and he certainly didn't need their judgment.
"Nico?" Steve said, noticing the determined look on his face. "What is it?"
"I had another dream," he announced, sitting down heavily on the couch next to Thor. "I... think I can fill in a lot about the Prophecy, now," he said, humorless. "At least, that's what was implied."
The rest of the Avengers gathered around, each looking a unique mix of apprehensive and confused. Nico couldn't blame him; he was pretty sure normal mortals didn't put as much stock in dreams as he'd learned to. Then again, he didn't think any of them had prophetic dreams due to godly blood on the regular, so, he guessed it was only fair for them to be a little skeptic. Only Steve, Thor, and Natasha looked to be fine with his information coming from a dream.
"I know who we're up against," Nico declared. "His name is Menoetius. He's the Titan of Anger and Rashness. I don't know how he escaped Tartarus, but, he did. And-- I don't know why, but-- he took Mnemosyne."
"That's the Titaness of Memory, right?" Asked Bruce.
Nico nodded, somewhat surprised Bruce knew that. It was likely, though, that Bruce had read on Greek Mythology when Thor had told them it all was real; he seemed like the type to do that.
"Yes. She's the one that brought me there-- I think she wanted to move this quest along, too. But... Menoetius, he-- he has Will, and..." Nico gulped, looking at Steve. "And Bucky, too."
A hundred thousand emotions flashed across Steve's face, all indescribably heartbreaking. Nico saw his jaw, clenched tight, shake as Steve fought off the tears-- he was mostly unsuccessful. They welled in his eyes, bright against the dull, tired look he wore, but did not fall, save two that rolled down his cheeks painfully slow. "What?"
Nico fought back the tremble in his lips. He was pretty sure he way crying, again, but he couldn't even bring himself to care anymore. "He did something to him. I don't know what but-- it bad. And he-- he did," Nico choked back a sob, "he did the same to Will. I don't--it's--" He broke off, biting his lip so hard he drew blood. He barely minded the pain. Anything was better than feeling the way he did then, tears dripping down onto his hands, clenched tightly on his lap.
"I can't..." Steve whispered softly, burying his head in his hands. His shoulders shook, and Nico could hear the sobs in his voice. "I can't do this again."
"I'm..." Nico almost said sorry. But he didn't-- he figured Steve was like him in that he'd rather get stabbed than have someone say that to him. This was not a situation for sorries. He sighed. "I know how you feel," Nico said, honestly. "I know you don't want to fight him."
"Wait. The Prophecy said he'd fight his lover, but-- oh." Tony said, and Nico saw the shock bloom across his face. "Oh-- I-- oh."
"Do you have a problem with this, Stark?" Steve said, raising his head to glare at Tony.
"No!" Tony was quick to say. "I just didn't think you-- but it's not-- It's not a problem."
Silence fell over the room, then, tense and generally uncomfortable. It stayed like that for a while, everyone thinking to themselves about one thing or another, until--
"Well," Clint said, clapping his hands. "I think we need some damn good breakfast, huh?"
~*~
Clint: what do you mean not all problems are solved with breakfast how do you guys cope if not through bacon and hash browns and COFFEE and shit?
literally everyone in the room, even Clint, which is kinda weird: bold of you to assume we cope
oh also i hope y'all don't mind if i start to give Nat more personality than the MCU could dream of ok thanks
ahahahahahahahahahahahahahahha i'm sobbing Scoob.
Angels sing. Trumpets sound. People are cheering in the streets, kissing their loved ones joyously.
Finally, Tony Stark has figured out how Super Mega Gay™ Steve Rogers is For Bucky Barnes.
OOF this is another BIG BOI (like... just under/about at 3k words....). Next chapter is super short. My hands are thanking God, because I edit chapters before I post, and the less chapter there is, the less my hands edit. Logic. I guess.
Y'all I'm on WRITING STREAK it's all just going SO FAST
Granted, a lot of that has to do with the fact I'm rewriting. I'm gonna map out the rest of the plot once I get a few more chapters in so I'm not making it up as I go once I've gotten past what's written. But yeah I'm just,,, pumpin' them words out.