Chapter Text
Summers in New Rome are actually cooler than Venice. Year-round, the weather fluctuates on a ten-degree scale that messes with Nico no matter the month or day. He likens his sensitivity to the weather to his father, which is normally combatted with a rightful catnap under the Jupiter Optimus Maximus—the Gaudiest and Most Obnoxious—until Percy or someone else from the Fifth Cohort fetches him so they can fulfill camp duties.
This summer’s a little different. Percy has gone home every summer that Nico’s known him, but now he has Camp Halfblood to default to. The Coliseum has been quiet for months since the war with Gaea—since Thalia decided to go on a road trip with her little brother instead of holding screamo concerts. Nico has Reyna all to himself.
There’s far less property damage. Reyna and he can get through all of the paperwork without forgery or listening to Percy and Thalia arguing over what color a water fountain should be in the barracks. Nico can technically do what he wants as praetor—but that’s also how nothing ever really got done before Thalia stepped down.
They have a little routine. Nico wakes up, knocks on the bathroom door until he’s annoyed Bianca into finish up, and they meet Reyna outside of the neighboring praetorhouse. Nico sips on his morning coffee—Thalia’s favorite nuclear bomb on the days he misses her the most—while listening to Bianca and Reyna work their way around appropriate topics. Usually, they settle on hunting. Nico’s banned himself as a topic of interest.
(He’s going to have to reiterate this when Percy comes back.)
It’s all mundane, like the end of the last war.
And—much better than traipsing across the world in a set of Bermuda shorts while dragging a twenty-foot-tall statue behind him. For the most part.
It gets a little less mundane, the closer they get to the end of June.
On a Saturday of all days, Nico’s forced to wake up to the sound of vacuum cleaner rather than the hot gossip of birds outside his bedroom window. Just a loud VROOOOOOM and the clatter of the cord as it flops about the wooden floor. It’s so loud that Nico’s inclined to believe that the vacuum cleaner is older than they are, and smoke and dust billows at the crack beneath his door.
There’s a loud rattle—then a swear—as Bianca evidently kicks the vacuum cleaner. “Confounded…stupid…”
VROOOOOOOOOM
Then the century old vacuum cleaner cyclones yet again, leaving Nico with a sleepless morning. He peels himself unwillingly out of bed, pulls his bedroom door open—“BIANCA—!”
—and finds his sister happily vacuuming in the hallway, headphones lodged well into her ears as she floats across the hall. The vacuum continues to holler like an old man in a coughing fit, dust and smoke wafting into the air as it pretends to clean their already tidy household. Bianca flounces, head dutifully in the sky like it normally is.
Nico dutifully yanks the cord out of the outlet before he has to hear any more of Bianca’s ugly rendition of Hilary Duff.
“What—hey!” Bianca turns around, her demeanor twisting in offense. “Nico, I’m cleaning!”
“You’re making a mess,” Nico chides. He gestures to the crumpled rug behind him, lips contorted into a tired frown. “It’s Saturday. Can’t you do this later?”
They’ve argued over less. Cleaning isn’t usually one of those issues—but Bianca stares at her brother now, confused. “Why would I do this later?”
“Because I’m trying to sleep.”
“But Thalia and Jace are coming home today,” Bianca protests. She hops over the vacuum cleaner—and engages, still puzzled. “Aren’t you excited?”
“I can be excited and sleep at the same time,” Nico retorts—and he rubs the sleep out of his own eyes. Bianca, on the other hand, is already dressed for the day at whatever ungodly hour it is. “They’re not coming until this afternoon. Plus, they need to unpack—”
“And they probably won’t go grocery shopping yet,” Bianca reasons. She gestures to their overall home. “Ergo, we could a dinner here. I just need to clean—”
“The only mess in this house is your room,” Nico retorts. “Why don’t you focus on that disaster before bringing it out to the rest of the house?”
Bianca makes a sound, her cheeks flushing pink. “It’s not my fault this place is a mess!”
Nico sighs with exasperation and gesticulates wildly. “I cleaned yesterday.”
“Badly,” she retorts.
“Excuse you—”
For as tiring as this part of their morning routine is, Bianca decides to punctuate their argument by snatching the plug. She pouts at her brother, looking seven rather than the sixteen that they celebrated two months ago, and a ribbon of electricity courses through her wrist to the tip of the metal prongs.
The vacuum comes to life, spewing a dust cloud from its brushes as retched and pitiful as Jupiter trying to speak over his siblings.
“Bianca,” Nico warns. “That vacuum’s older than the Trojan War.”
“Sorry,” she says—loudly, with her music running in her ears. “I can’t hear you over my mess.”
“Stop being a brat!” Nico snaps grumpily.
“I’m being a brat?” Bianca whirls around, and in that moment, her expression mimics his. “Who in this house has been sulking for months because Thalia and Jace are gone—”
Her hands billow with electricity as she waves the plug around.
“—and spends every drachma and denarii just to get a call with them—”
“Bianca,” Nico warns. “That vacuum—”
“—and calls Percy in the middle of the night just to play video games?” Bianca goes on. “You know Jace is confused why you called him last week and suddenly hung up? Talk about rude—!”
“BIANCA!” Nico shouts—
BOOOOOM!
—and the vacuum bag explodes, amassing the house in a cloud of dirt, dust, and forgotten uncooked elbow macaroni that fell to the floor instead of being devoured with last night’s dinner.
Which is how Nico spends another Saturday morning grabbing his pillow and walking next door to Reyna’s house. He’s tired, covered in a mixture of soot and dust as she opens the door. Reyna doesn’t question it anymore. She waves her hand in greeting and welcomes Nico to her couch before she showers.
Aurum and Argentum hop onto the small love seat and settle happily besides Nico as he slumbers.
He’s half asleep by the time their own returns from the bathroom, dressed for the day much like Bianca. Instead of an ancient vacuum cleaner, Reyna wakes him by waving a warm cup of coffee in his face, and Nico decides best not to argue a second time about waking up.
“So she decided to clean the house today,” Reyna summarizes while Nico grumbles into his coffee mug, “without forewarning?”
Nico rubs the sleep out of his eyes, then pushes hair out of his face. “I already cleaned yesterday. Is there something wrong with the way I clean?”
“You’re the only reason we could see the floor in the Fifth Cohort barracks,” Reyna says—and she shakes her head in disbelief. “I can only imagine how Percy’s doing at Camp Halfblood. The cleaning harpies eat you if your cabin isn’t spotless.”
He snorts, but he knows better than to ask if she’s joking.
Still, Reyna lets out a soft chuckle and nudges him on the couch. “That old vacuum was going to give out eventually. There’s a reason why Thalia never used it.”
“That’s not the reason why Thalia never used it,” Nico mutters.
“You said Bianca’s mess is primarily in her room, didn’t you?”
“Only between sunset and sunrise,” Nico says. “Then the mess joins us for breakfast at Fabiano’s.”
Reyna shoots him a light, but stern look. “You don’t mean that.”
“I don’t,” Nico agrees—and the tiniest pang of guilt hits him in the chest. “She apologized and agreed the new mess was her fault. I just wanted to get some sleep this morning.”
“You and your sleep,” Reyna muses. She strokes Argentum over the head and smiles happily as the metallic pup stretches across her lap. “You’ve been tentative about this arrangement since you announced it. Are you really surprised?”
“No,” Nico agrees. He’s known since day one how easily the two of them rile each other up. Bickering with Bianca is just an expectation that he has—but he had far more energy to deal with it when he was nine than fifteen. “She’s just excited that Jason is coming back in town today. She’s doing this thing that Mammina taught us—an immaculate home is a perfect home.”
Reyna makes a face. She arches an eyebrow in the air. “Didn’t you have a housemaid?”
“Nonna Laura wasn’t impressed with how slowly she folded our towels,” Nico admits—to which Reyna laughs.
“Well, aren’t you excited?”
Nico pauses. He bites the inside of his mouth, his hands curling softly around his coffee cup, and he absently stares at the remains of his beverage. “I—mean. I guess.”
He fiddles with the cords of his pajama pants, and from the corner of his eye, he catches sight of the new tattoo he’d received when they made it back to New Rome a few months ago.
The eagle still stretches its wings over his forearm, but it shares the space on his arm with the outline of a peacock. One of Juno’s symbols.
They sit as a reminder of his place as the son of the King and Queen of the gods. Years ago, he winced as an eagle and SPQR was burned into his skin. Nico had hoped any association with Jupiter would just disappear entirely from his person, instead of stacking like a merit badge. A scar rests through his father’s eagle—an example of how he’s honored his godly mother without realizing it—but Nico’s be happy all the same if Jupiter had never lain claim to him.
Getting the peacock tattoo had come with a sigh of relief, alongside the new stripe that recorded his quest to take the Athena Parthenos home.
It wasn’t just…his quest though. It was Nico’s quest—and the person he had to thank for even knowing his bloodline. His true parentage. The person Nico seems to think about daily now, since they’re no longer traveling together.
This time, Reyna’s other eyebrow arches in the air. “Thalia has been gone for two months and you’re telling me you’re not excited that today’s the day?”
Suddenly, Nico’s cheeks bloom red, and he shuffles awkwardly on the couch cushion. Hopes it doesn’t show that his mind is elsewhere. “Well, yeah.”
“Yeah,” Reyna repeats—and Nico feels even more self-conscious under her presence.
“You’re seeing your girlfriend for the first time in two months,” Nico says, happy to change the subject. “How does that feel?”
Reyna breaks into a warm smile that she truly only saves for family. There’s a glint to her eye at the mention of Thalia Grace, her girlfriend, and she takes a longer sip of her coffee. “We were Iris Messaging last night. Honestly, this is the happiest that I’ve seen her since we’ve met. Being with her brother, I mean.”
“And with you,” Nico reminds her—and Reyna’s lips seem to stretch into a wider smile behind her coffee. He pauses, and frowns. “You two were IM-ing and didn’t invite me?”
“That’s more like it,” Reyna teases—and Nico’s cheeks flush. She raises her hand dismissively. “Just girlfriend things. Jason’s excited to see you.”
Nico stares at the daughter of Bellona, wondering if he heard her correctly. He straightens in his seat and thumbs the brim of his cup. “Did he say that?”
“He…said something about playing video games and Legend of Zelda.”
Again, Nico’s cheeks bloom red. He rubs his tattoo almost instinctively and finds himself a little more awake. “He remembered that?”
“He’s looking forward to it,” Reyna confirms—then she shakes her head in disbelief. “Thalia says he’s pretty much restless every day. Like he needs something to do. Honestly, if you and Jason can talk about video games, then you can stop letting Percy win at Smash Bros.”
“I don’t let him win,” Nico protests. “Percy loses on his own merit.”
Again—Reyna laughs, and Nico’s chest warms at the sight of it. Before he became praetor, he was just worried he’d never see her again. That he’d lose yet another sister without saying goodbye. Now, he’s enjoying her as his next-door neighbor and confidante, and watching as she smiles more freely at the thought of both the Legion and her girlfriend.
In some ways, Nico wishes he became praetor years ago. He owes a lot to an organization that made sure he grew up among family rather than a prince.
“Any plans for the night?” Nico asks. He places his coffee mug on his coaster.
“Try to keep up with Thalia’s surprises,” Reyna admits—and she sounds tired for the day, as she did when she signed paperwork for Thalia’s concerts when a No would’ve been much shorter on her tongue. Then she smiles, still far more in love with Thalia than she is tired. Some days, Nico’s envious of it. “We’ll probably sneak away after dinner. Jason insisted we spend some alone time together.”
“Thoughtful guy,” Nico comments. He does a bad job hiding his smile, but Reyna finds herself prattling on about something else anyway.
“Thoughtful indeed. I swear, they look nothing alike—”
“But they’re both very…”
“Thoughtful,” Reyna echoes for him. The edge of her lips lifts with amusement. “Of course, Thalia’s probably more than excited to see you. You’re welcome to—”
“No.” Nico shakes his head. “The last thing I want to be this summer is a third wheel. Time usually finds Thalia and I before we find it. I’m not worried.”
Reyna smiles happily at him—which is all Nico really needs to be satisfied with his own answer. A year ago, he was scared to be more than arm’s length away from three of his people. It stemmed from Bianca—of losing her in a hallway of the Lotus Casino and having his life change in the eye.
Nico went west, and Bianca went east. For how angry Nico was to lose his sister—angry at Thalia—he knew he never wanted to relive that pain. Watching Thalia, Percy, Reyna, and Hazel climb atop the Argo II was one of the most painful things he ever endured.
Now, Thalia was traveling with a little brother she never thought she’d see again. Percy could visit his mom and attend camp duties within an hour’s drive without the fear of monster attacks. Reyna and he leaned on each other to make the Legion better, and Hazel was having her second chance at life after wasted years running away from Hera’s rage, and found a sense of purpose.
(The last part Nico would have to talk to Mammina about, but he’s not sure if the cool-down period of demanding things from Olympus has ended yet.)
Nico has Thalia, Percy, Reyna, Hazel, and Bianca all in an IM’s reach—and that’s more than enough. Even if most mornings with Bianca feels like their own personal War Game with no Mural Crown at the end.
“What do you think you, Bianca, and Jason will be doing tonight?”
He makes a face. “Why would we be doing anything?”
“Well—because Thalia and I will be spending time together tonight. And as of right now, I think you and Bianca are his only friends in New Rome.”
“I’m sure whatever Bianca has planned for tonight will be more than enough.”
“And what about you?”
“What about me?” Nico asks.
Reyna arches an eyebrow and looks at him more curiously. “Am I wrong to assume that you’re excited to see him, too? You two traveled together for a sum number of weeks, and all he does on my IMs with Thalia is praise you—”
“I can’t imagine why,” Nico interrupts. His cheeks flourish pink and he folds his arms over his chest. Still, the daughter of Bellona flashes a studious look in his direction, evidently analyzing Nico like a war tactician trying to understand her opponent’s moves. “Yes, Reyna?”
“All I know is, you left Epirus with the full intention of giving your title to Frank, then accepted the position with open arms by the time we saw you again in Camp Halfblood,” she says—and she shakes her head.
“That’s not true,” Nico rebuts. “I still hate the cape.”
“I personally have to praise Jason Grace for however he convinced you to become praetor.” Reyna blows a strand out of her eyes. “You’re very selective about what you’re willing to tell me about your quest.”
“That’s because I spent a good chunk of it unconscious,” Nico retorts—and his cheek blaze pink. He brushes the inside of his thigh without meaning to—and thinks of their time in France. What little of it he was awake for. “There’s really not much to tell.”
“That’s not what Hylla says.”
“What does Hylla say?” Nico cocks his head—and this time he catches Reyna’s innocent look.
“We talk,” Reyna says simply, “because someone here decided to withhold the fact his powers were turning him into a cloud.”
Nico rolls his eyes as the age-old lecture spikes up again. “You’re worse than Bianca.”
“Worrying about you as much as your sister?” Reyna snorts—and they set aside all things Hylla. She ruffles his hair. “I see no problem with that.”
Nico echoes her sound with a snort of his own, and nudges back. He studies how light she looks in her weekend civvies, dressed for the light summer heat. Reyna’s hair is still short from her time at Camp Halfblood. She’s relaxed in her demeanor—though still very much poised.
“Of course you’re worried,” Nico replies. “You’re basically my sister, too.”
At that compliment, Reyna smiles and finishes off the rest of her coffee.
Then she ends their morning with the same question. “You’re really not that excited about Jason moving here?”
Jason Grace, son of Hades. As Bianca liked to put it, one of the most mild-mannered demigods Nico’s ever met—especially compared to the rowdy sister that resembled Jason best in heart. Nico thinks about the last time they actually saw each other at Camp Halfblood—beneath the stars, catching a moment’s breath after weeks of agony on a quest. Months ago, Jason’s excitement of moving to New Rome was infectious.
“Of course I am,” Nico admits. “Jason’s really good to talk to.”
If he thinks about it long enough, he can just feel how tightly Jason hugged him, with a soft whisper of gratitude.
And—just like every other instance the thought has lingered, Nico grows flustered once again.
*
Nico ends up buying a vacuum cleaner for a number of reasons. For one—the one the Legion provided was probably older than some of the Lares that pranced about New Rome. While not the first order of business, he decides it was long overdue to introduce the house to a new generation of cleaning technology.
Second, it gives him more than enough excuse to spend time away from home while Bianca conducts her (wrong) version of cleaning their home. He stops by the electronics store first, in order to choose a more acceptable vacuum cleaner, then stops by Fabiano’s to grab both his sister’s favorite drink and some pastries as a peace offering.
Third—and absolutely the least important, he decides that if Jason is going to end up hanging out with them (Bianca) tonight, then an immaculate house feels sounder than the hurricane of Bianca’s wardrobe and his video games left out in the living room. For the first time ever, Jason is living elsewhere from Camp Halfblood, and Nico is compelled to show there’s far more out there in the world than a fickle, dramatic God of Whine and an absentee bumbling centaur.
(There’s a minute of mental somersaults at QuestBuy when Nico reminds himself that Jason’s seen more of the world with Thalia in the last two months, but he decides that replacing the dusty old vacuum takes precedence, anyway.)
Taking care of a house is far more exhausting than tucking the blanket over his bunkbed in the barracks. Nico would gladly take the simplicity of separating his clean pants from Percy’s sweaty socks over spending an hour looking at aesthetically pleasing salt and pepper shakers with Bianca.
(There’s no hesitation on Reyna’s part when she points out Nico is missing Percy. She knows, because Nico wouldn’t miss Percy’s stinky socks otherwise.)
It's not that Nico doesn’t like living with Bianca. He’s spent too many years longing for her presence and finding comfort in three of his favorite people during his lows not to miss her.
There are days where they seem to fall into a rhythm, completing each other’s routine while juggling a conversation that completes yet another puzzling piece of Nico’s childhood. He enjoys those days—the ones that feel like they never separated.
Then there are the days that remind him that they’ve lived different lives. Where Nico grew up past the age of ten, and Bianca is still trying to lecture him like he’s going to eat a booger. They aren’t in sync. Sometimes, they recount things to each other like strangers, who struggle to build the cadence that truly made them feel like siblings. It’s harder to navigate those days.
Nico’s learned that Bianca has a knack for photography the same way he enjoys reading comics. They’re things that existed when they were little—and time has only carried on with more incarnations of the hobbies they both loved. Bianca likes to take pictures and make things look nice, even for a second—to remember one tide in an ocean. It’s sweet.
(It also took three days to convince her to stop taking pictures of them in every inch of the house.)
Thus—Praetor di Angelo, son of Juno reminds himself that the good parts of his sister outweigh the bad on most days and comes home with a vacuum cleaner and bribery. Scones, specifically.
“Bianca,” he calls lightly as he enters through the front door, “I brought a peace offering.”
Their house is silent for once. The aftermath of dust bunnies and stale macaroni is nowhere to be seen, swept away by a broom. It’s clean. The last time Nico’s ever made a mess was when he littered his old bedroom with toys, but there wasn’t nearly as much space in his trunk in his barracks. Bianca has put away his controllers and folded their throw blanket nicely over their couch.
The novelty of how normal their home life is strange since Nico’s weekdays are spent wrangling legionnaires and weighing on Senate meetings—but he’s willing to admit that Bianca has cleaned in a way that their godly mother would approve.
He finds her sitting in their tiny backyard beneath an oak tree.
It’s his favorite part about living with his big sister—reliving the moments at the di Angelo Estate, where he sat in his mother’s lap and ate a nice picnic. This time, they’re much older. Bianca takes photos of the shadows of the leaves against the dull green grass—and still manages to look as lady-like as she wanted when they were little.
Nico announces his presence by clearing his throat. Bianca looks up, and by glance alone, he knows their argument is a thing of the past.
“Peace offering,” he says, and he pushes the box of scones in her direction. Bianca brightens at the coffee passed her way. “I bought a new vacuum cleaner, too.”
“Want me to pay you back?”
A duh rests on Nico’s tongue, but he shrugs and shakes his head instead.
Bianca is sheepish as she takes a test sip of her drink. “Sorry. I might have been a little compulsive this morning.”
“A little?” Nico asks—and she pouts. “Go on.”
Bianca looks hesitant. The California sun warms her skin, as it does for Nico every summer. Each day, he’s more startled by their similarities than their differences—including the self-doubt that seems to linger across her features.
“So Jace is coming back today,” she reminds him.
“First I’ve heard of it today,” Nico muses wryly—and she nudges him playfully.
“I…wasn’t the best to him before I left. I was really focused on myself.”
“I’m familiar with your big head, yeah.”
“Nico!” Bianca admonishes—but she sighs this time instead of threatening him with a waggled finger. Again, her demeanor shrinks—and despite all of the fun and frustrations they’ve had in the last few months, she grows as somber as she did when they reunited. “Jace was my first friend at Camp Halfblood. My best friend. I…just want to get back there with him, you know? I don’t want to screw it up.”
“Being back there is part of the reason why you didn’t work, Sis.”
Bianca withers, biting the inside of her mouth—but she doesn’t refute his claim. Nico feels a small pang of guilt. He breaks off half a scone and offer it to her.
“Just be better,” he advises. “Jason is trying to be better. Meet him there.”
She smiles at his advice—just a weak little thing. “Noted.”
“Good.”
“So…why did you hang up on Jace last week?”
Nico makes a face. His cheeks flush red, and he eyes his sister carefully before plucking his drink out of his cupholder. He shoves a full scone in his mouth, and bites back a grimace as Bianca just looks at him curiously.
“No reason,” he offers. Crumbs go flying from his lips.
“Ew.” Bianca gags and scoots away before she can end up in his line of fire. “You’re being gross.”
“And you’re mulling over nothing,” Nico reassures. He swallows hard and takes a long gulp of his drink. “I buttdialed him. I was between meetings all week. We’re shorthanded while people are trying to figure out which camp they prefer, like Percy. I’m a couple centurions short after Octavian tried to tear the Legion apart, and we’re still trying to catch up on permits and paperwork after all three of us were called to action.”
Bianca stares at him doubtfully. “Sounds like you’ve been busy.”
“On the weekdays,” Nico agrees. Wryly, he adds, “that’s why I value my sleep on the weekends.”
She smiles sheepishly but doesn’t argue. “Well, the house is clean now. You’re welcome to sleep the day away until Thalia and Jason get here.”
“Thank you,” Nico says. He’s hesitant, but then he adds, “You…don’t have to hang out around here all day with just me, you know. You’re welcome to travel.”
He still feels guilty, being chosen over Calypso.
Yet Bianca stares at him, puzzled by the words.
“No need to pour your restless energy into over-cleaning the house,” Nico continues. “Or playing some happy homemaker. You’re my sister, Bianca. Not my wife.”
“Gross,” Bianca mutters.
“Super gross,” Nico agrees—but he’d be lying if he didn’t notice some of Mammina’s tendencies coming out of his sister. Maybe they were innate, like when he accidentally helped deliver a baby a few months ago.
She tried to keep a tidy home and feed him every waking hour of the day. Nico’s had to insist more than once now for her to leave his games alone. It reminds him of days where his grandmother and Juno would compete to keep an immaculate home, with the Mother Goddess never quite meeting the di Angelo matriarch’s standards.
In a way, he pities his godly mother. Stuck in an unhappy marriage to an arrogant god and unable to show her radiance as the Goddess of Family to the parents of the only mortal lover she’s ever taken.
Nico thinks Bianca may be trying her best, too, to keep them together. With all the strokes that Nonna Laura would probably criticize.
Whether she realizes it or not, Bianca shrugs. She pulls a lock of hair against her ear and leans into him in a way they would settle after playing as children. “Things will get better when Jace gets here. I’ll be out of your hair for a while.”
“You’re never in my hair,” Nico dismisses.
She gives him a pointed look.
“You could stand to make your showers shorter,” Nico revises. “California is in a never-ending draught.”
At that admission, Bianca flushes. She laughs and kisses him on the cheek before splitting another scone for the two of them. “Look at my little brother—all grown up and offering sound advice.”
Red flutters in Nico’s cheeks. “And yet you only listen to half of it.”
Bianca shoots him another look, lips stretching into a pout.
“Kidding,” Nico dismisses once again. “I’m…glad that you’re thinking about working hard with Jason, Bianca. I know that’ll mean a lot to him.”
She smiles at him meaningfully, and Nico deduces it’s the best thing he’s said all day.
“We’re…getting there,” she asks gently. “Right?”
Nico lifts his gaze at his sister—at her hopeful expression and calm stature—and nods his head in agreement. “I’d say getting there would be the perfect place to describe us.”
Again, Bianca beams—and Nico relishes in the moment of reprieve with his big sister.
*
Nico’s day off gets interrupted eventually. It’s the downside of being a leader—for all the time that Nico invested during his week, he’s always on call if a situation escalates. That typically included challenges waged by different soldiers, fights between Greek and Roman demigods, or a faun antic gone wrong.
Not officiating a wedding.
He makes it to Temple Hill—dressed in his praetor robes—as instructed by Dakota, and halts at the number of chairs strewn across from his mother’s statue. He sees the son of Bacchus, dressed in his best robes, and another boy with a similar build dressed in a tux. They both perk when they see him.
“Nico! You made it!” Dakota waves around a questionable flask and gestures for Nico to come close. The boy next to him looks nervous. “This is my brother, Pollux—we’re glad we could get you so short-noticed.”
There’s an arch of lotuses that decorates the Juno Moneta. It softens her features in the background as she stares down upon them. He’s inclined to inspect them, but his confusion wins over.
“I,” Nico says slowly, “would’ve dressed better had I known I was attending a wedding.”
“Really?” mutters Pollux. He sighs in relief. “Thank gods.”
Nico makes a face—but Dakota takes it all in stride.
“Your robes are official enough,” he says. “That’s good enough for everything.”
“For what?” Nico asks.
“Officiating!”
“What?”
“Yeah!” Dakota slaps his brother’s shoulder blithely and holds his head high with the same gusto that Nico misses so much in Percy. “Pollux and Gwen were gonna have their wedding in front of Dad’s shrine, but I told them they should save it for the reception. I mentioned you were a son of Juno and all now, and Gwen was all for it.”
Nico stares at the son of Bacchus, wondering if he heard correctly. “All for what?”
“Blessing the wedding, of course!” Dakota says. “You have experience in that.”
“Yeah, with blessing swords,” Nico protests. He recalls times before this last summer where Vulcan children came to him with newly made imperial gold weapons. His cheeks grow hot and he looks up to Pollux, who suddenly looks more doubtful. “When I said you could call me for emergencies, Dakota, I didn’t mean for this! This isn’t part of my job description.”
Of course, Mammina’s statue suddenly leers at him, as if saying Take That Back.
Pollux suddenly looks distressed, the husband-to-be looking at his brother worriedly, but Dakota’s own brazen attitude seems to balance him out.
“You’re a son of Juno though,” Dakota protests. “Doesn’t that mean you’re meant for this?”
“Yeah, but—”
“Plus, you’re the highest ranked government official,” Dakota continues, and he makes tick marks with his hands.
“Okay, yeah—”
“And you’re a son of Jupiter,” Dakota finishes. “Also—Gwen’s known you since you were like, yay big, and she’s family. She’d be crushed if you couldn’t do this, man!”
Nico flashes Dakota an exasperated look. “I see you’ve been brushing up on your diplomacy skills with Percy.”
Dakota takes a healthy swig of his flask and vibrates in his normal sugar high. “It’s that girl he’s been dating, man. I swear Percy thinks in, like, 5-D now.”
“A scary thought,” Nico says wryly. He fiddles with the badge at his chest and smooths out the cloak over his shoulders, if only to look more presentable under his mother. “And they’re not dating. Otherwise I’d be blessing their union right now.”
Pollux perks, his eyes flashing pleadingly. “So you’ll marry us?”
“Gwen helped raise me in the Fifth Cohort. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for her,” Nico says. He hesitates—before adding, “With how tense things were after the war ended, I’m glad there are people out there who have genuinely found peace between our camps. It means a lot.”
At those sound words, Pollux looks less panicked than before. He holds a hand to his chest in relief, while Dakota relishes in his victory.
“Told you Nico was awesome,” Dakota says.
Nico can’t help but blush.
Mike Kahale shows up not too long after that, actually dressed for the occasion. There’s a moment’s greeting, where Mike and Dakota greet each other amicably. Then, Mike and Nico are ushered off to make Nico look more presentable and sooth Pollux’s nerves.
The son of Venus takes out a portable jewelry box, decked out with necklaces, earrings, bangles—and so on. The level of daintiness seems to vary—and Mike Kahale is not the type of demigod anyone would ever describe as dainty.
“And here I thought Thalia was the walking jewelry box,” Nico mutters, as Mike looks through headpieces. Headpieces!
“Fashion’s for everyone,” Mike dismisses.
It’s not often that they talk to each other. Maybe more after the war. Despite how close Mike Kahale was to Octavian, the entire First Cohort insisted their old augur was just that persuasive. Mike isn’t nearly as loud as his sponsor was. He’s thoughtful, quiet, and strategic— in all of the ways that Piper wanted to prove that children of Aphrodite could also be.
Watching Mike pluck jewelry and arrange his robes reminds Nico of Jason. All the quickness and the nimbleness of his fingers, working with something other than a sword and a knife. Nico imagines paler hands, curling around his own fingers to inspect them, and the sweet smile that had followed for most of spring.
“So when are you going to have one of these?” Mike asks abruptly.
Nico makes a face, his cheeks flourishing pink. “Why?”
“Your mom’s the goddess of marriage,” Mike points out. “I’m assuming it’s a lifelong goal or something.”
“You’re right. You’re assuming,” Nico retorts. He shrugs as Mike clasps a gold band on his arm. “My mom’s not even happy with her own marriage.”
Mike lifts an eyebrow, though he clearly doesn’t have a word for it. If Jason were here, he’d probably laugh. “I hope you’re not planning on putting that in your speech.”
“I’m happy for anyone who finds love like that,” Nico reassures. He crosses his arms over his chest and shifts uncomfortably. “But as of right now, I can’t say I’m the wedding type.”
He decides to avoid Mammina’s gaze at that declaration.
“That’s a shame,” Mike continues. “Considering wedding season’s just started.”
Nico pauses. “There’s a season?”
“Early June through September,” Mike explains. “Usually, I get the invite because of my mom. And because of your mom…well. We’re probably going to be seeing a lot of each other.”
Nico stares at Mike in disbelief. As he opens his mouth to speak, Mike clasps a band on his other arm and then whips out a compact mirror. Nico stares at himself and tries his best not to grimace.
His praetor badge hangs neatly over his robes, while his purple cloak seems to look more regal under Mike’s touch.
There’s a headpiece at the crown of his head—a golden laurel that outshines the one on their camp shirt. An actual mural crown. In the olden days, it was given to someone who watched over the city. The protector. That alone feels like too much for him to wear at a wedding, but with the bangles on his wrists, the chains around his neck, and his blue eyes and hair…
“I look like my dad,” Nico complains.
Mike shrugs. “Just channel your mom.”
*
The ceremony is quaint. There’s a mix of Greek and Roman faces in the audience that Nico doesn’t see too often. Gwendolyn walks down the aisle, dressed in a beautiful trumpet gown that compliments her narrow frame, and she’s so giddy with happiness that she waves at Nico.
Everyone rises to their feet, and there’s a soft wave of adoration for the blushing, eloquent bride. Nico’s not sure how long Gwen and Pollux have been dating. He knows in Roman times, brides have been given away in less time, and with less love.
With the lives they live, it’s hard to cement whether they have another year, or another day—so he’s happy for someone from his own family who can find that instance of love, and the spark of adoration that comes in both small and heavy doses—but always grows with heart and conversation.
“Dearly Beloved,” Nico starts, unsure of how else to really officiate a wedding. “We are gathered here today to…celebrate the love between Pollux and Gwen.”
Speeches for a whole army can already be intimidating enough. A speech for two people who love each other enough to devote their lives to one another is something else.
Nico tries his best, hoping a speech about commitment and love can roll off the tongue as easily as Percy spouting nautical miles, or Thalia guessing the value of jewels and gemstones.
He can’t recall a time where he’s been to a wedding. Maybe when he was really young, and he and mortal mother strategized on how to get the biggest slice of cake. His own moms never married.
It’s the norm for demigods—for love or lust to happen in one stroke between mortal and god, and a baby after some time. Some were unlucky to ever see their beloved again—like Sally Jackson, who had a brief summer romance with the King of the Sea, and wistfully awaited Neptune’s return for twelve years.
Nico, though—has vivid memories of the Queen of the Gods in his childhood, holding his hand as he hopped along cobblestone steps and chattered back at birds. Love wasn’t something that Nico learned, but something he grew up with, between his adoring grandparents, his two mothers, and (sometimes) his big sister. He never had to question if it was there. Thalia, Percy, Reyna filled that hole when he thought he lost everything. They never let him fall.
And—with Hazel’s wake and Bianca’s return, that love only grew.
The other love—the one that Mike Kahale’s mother represents—is complicated. So complicated that not one, but two gods represent its intricacies. Love and marriage have two different goddesses because there’s power in both—good and bad. The disastrous strokes of passion that made Psyche see a monster in the middle of the night, and the commitment bound by trickery and malevolence between the King and Queen of the Gods.
Nico remembers very well what Eros said about his own love life.
Nico di Angelo—so insecure that he’ll never find love so long as he lives. No one who’ll ever understand him, no one who’ll ever see him past his father’s title.
He thinks he’s gotten better with his words. Or—whatever’s coming out of his mouth right now while Gwen and Pollux eye each other adoringly. Percy, Thalia, and Reyna have always loved him enough to shield him from the ogling eyes to his father’s name. Hazel and he are connected in spite of the King of the Gods, and Bianca is from a life before.
The older he gets, the further away the men in the alley of Venice feels. That different type of love that Nico learned came with good and bad and made him say, I want that.
After this past spring, he’s not the biggest fan of Eros, God of Love—or whatever that may entail. Dreams of starry nights and moonlit conversations are far from what Nico expects in his love life—and not something he’s ever really expected, after this century.
And he’s okay with that.
Nico gets to live in a world where Thalia, the daughter of Pluto who saved him all those years ago, is happily in love with her best friend. Where his hero, Percy, gets to go home and spend time with his mother. Reyna and he can map out a better future for the Legion, and he can go home and enjoy time with his resurrected big sister as they catch up with Hazel over IM together.
Nico’s happy.
So, because he doesn’t like to think of the bad that’s happened in the name of love and commitment—at a wedding of all places—he focuses on the good. Sweet conversations in the evening. Stars that filled the evening sky for love’s first meeting and love’s devotion.
Something about his speech must not suck. By the end of it, Gwendolyn is fanning herself, trying her best not to cry. Pollux arches an eyebrow, his wedding vows fisted in his hand, and Mike Kahale, son of Venus, is staring from the first row in amusement.
The first of many weddings of the season, Nico thinks tiredly.
Dakota gives him a thumbs up.
“I…believe the bride would like to say a few words,” Nico says next. He turns and faces the misty-eyed audience.
Then he listens to two people in love, gushing about how they can’t wait to share a life together.
*
Nico gets rewarded with cake.
Before he can sit down at his mother’s steps and eat it, he gets committed to two more weddings in the upcoming week and is asked to kiss a few baby heads. He’s still not sure how his time ended up here of all places. Kissing babies is definitely nothing like blessing imperial gold—but Nico trades accidentally cutting his mouth with getting his hair yanked.
Gwendolyn is overjoyed about her wedding day. And Pollux, son of the God of Parties, is ecstatic that the reception is a hit. As far as praetor responsibilities and duties in the name of his godly parent go, weddings aren’t that bad.
“You seriously attend every single one of these?” Nico asks, after his third attempt to sit down is met with failure.
Mike shrugs. “Everyone wants love at their wedding. And you can’t beat free food.”
Given Mike’s other job is a quarterback for his high school team, Nico decides it makes sense that the son of Venus is a bottomless pit.
Between fun music, questionable (yet age-appropriate) drinks, and happy people, weddings are much less awkward than breaking up make out sessions behind the barracks. If Nico can find a civil ground with the First Cohort’s centurion, too, then it’s better for the Legion.
(He can already imagine Reyna ruffling his hair at that thought.)
It ends up being a pretty good time. Nico crosses officiate a wedding off his list of things to do to honor Mammina, right under Deliver a Kid.
A tap on the shoulder makes him turn around, and Nico’s already open armed to kiss another baby.
“Give her here,” Nico instructs.
“Give who here?” Thalia’s grin is wily when he looks up. She looks completely out of place in her steel-toed combat boots, tattered jeans, and spiked leather jacket. Her hair somehow looks spikier than before—and in the middle of a wedding, she looks like Death. “Hey, Neeks.”
Nico matches her grin. He throws his arms around the daughter of Pluto.
She hugs him back in a bone-crushing embrace, evidently making up for all of the weeks Jason and she were gone. “Do I get one of those blessed baby kisses too?”
He laughs. “When did you even get back?”
“A couple hours ago,” Thalia replies. She gestures to the sky—which looks more orange than blue, and Nico realizes where his time has gone.
The edge of his lips lifts into the briefest smile—and then it diminishes. “I was supposed to be there when you got back.”
With all the ease that came with Thalia Grace, she waves a hand dismissively. Her smile incites reassurance. “Rey mentioned you got called away for praetor stuff. Didn’t know you were officiating weddings now.”
Nico wrinkles his nose and pulls away. He makes a face. “I don’t recall you ever having to do this.”
“That’s because no one ever wants to wish the Kiss of Death on their baby,” Thalia muses. “Pretty disappointing, honestly. I’ve been told I’m a great kisser.”
The edge of Nico’s lips twitch into a smile, his heart a little fuller in her presence. “What I wouldn’t give to see what you would say on stage.”
She snickers, a loving arm around his shoulders.
“I’m sorry,” Nico repeats. For how much he put off Thalia’s reappearance, he’s suddenly reinvigorated by her presence. And regretting ever downplaying it in front of both Bianca and Reyna. “I really wanted to be there.”
“You didn’t miss much. A couple of heavy boxes full of my boots and my Bullet for My Valentine album collection.” Thalia shakes her head dismissively. “Praetor duties, Nico. You never know when they’re going to hit—you’re just supposed to expect the unexpected.”
Marrying a couple was definitely on the list of things Nico didn’t expect.
“It’s different this year,” he says. “With Camp Halfblood and all.”
Between Camp Halfblood and Camp Jupiter, and the number of campers who wanted to shuffle in between—or wanted to enjoy New Rome’s amenities without enlisting for ten years. It’s certainly not for everyone. But—the last that Nico’s heard, Hazel has been a great camp leader at Camp Halfblood. He just wishes they could spend more time together.
“I didn’t even realize I signed up for this,” Nico mentions irately. He pushes a hand through his hair. “Dakota just said hurry.”
Thalia laughs. “You should’ve let Reyna prescreen. That’s what I used to make her do.”
“I think you mean pawn things off on her and commit forgery.”
“Pawn. Now that’s a word that’s in my vocabulary.” She smirks, and the gems in her ears seem to glimmer.
Nico sighs and rolls his eyes. “Where is Reyna, anyway? I thought you were with her.”
Thalia points in another direction, where Reyna is busy discussing things with Hank from the Third Cohort. There’s a camper standing beside him, dressed in orange rather than purple. Reyna has her recruiter demeanor on, clearly spouting the benefits of Camp Jupiter. There’s a pamphlet in her hand.
“Praetor’s job never stops,” Thalia muses. “That’s why she was the best.”
“You’re selling yourself short.”
“I know a diamond when I see one.” Thalia looks over to Nico, amused. Her smile is brighter than Nico’s ever seen, with a love in her eyes after two months. She catches Reyna in a glance, and their smiles broaden.
After months of contact through IM, Nico knows Reyna is ecstatic to have her girlfriend back in town. Every inch of Reyna’s smile is mirrored in Thalia’s own.
“Were you inquiring about my services?” Nico muses. “I charge in cake.”
Thalia grins, one eyebrow arched in the air. “Nico, we’re at a wedding on Temple Hill. We just happened to pass by on our way to Dad’s crypt.”
Nico shrugs—but his mind happens to latch onto her words. He cocks his head back to the daughter of Pluto. “We?”
He doesn’t have to wait long. A new song blasts from whatever stereo, and the precisive glee of his sister reaches him. “Jace, come dance with me!”
Nico zeroes in on Jason immediately.
At first, Jason stands there, dressed in a simple shirt and jeans in the summer heat. His hair is short and neat, like their first meeting. Fourteen beads rest across his neck—the time he’s poured into Camp Halfblood evident against his clavicle. Then, when Bianca squeals and yanks him to the dance floor, Jason’s smile stands out like a beacon.
His laugh is warm and contagious, drowning out whatever is blasting over the stereo. Nico sees dimpled cheeks and joyous glee, and his heart somersaults to the downbeat of the song.
“Ew,” is all Thalia says. “Jonas Brothers.”
As though Jason can hear them, he turns his head—and his eyes light up at the sight of them.
“Nico! Hey!”
Nico’s so busy relishing in that thought that he doesn’t notice Jason walking up. He’s lost in the way Jason’s smile dimples, and how white his teeth are. How bright his eyes are against the evening sky, and how honey sweet the tenor of his voice is.
“Uh…Nico?”
“Hi,” Nico replies, when he finds his voice. His cheeks flourish pink, and his first reaction is to extend a hand, like he’s recruiting a new camper or sponsor for Camp Jupiter. He wasn’t prepared for anything today—Bianca’s vacuum cleaner, officiating a wedding—and least of all Jason’s presence.
Still, Jason’s expression is light—much brighter than the crazy day that Nico’s having. His eyes flicker with a momentary confusion—and his smile spreads as he shakes Nico’s hand.
“You look nice,” he comments.
Oh. Nico’s cheeks flush pink. He fiddles with the bracelet Mike clasped on his wrist.
“I’ve…” Nico hesitates. He clears his throat. “I…I’m flattered. Thanks.”
Jason smiles at him fully, and Nico’s pretty sure he exhausted his ability to speak earlier, after some emotional speech in the name of his mother.
“I’m gonna have some fighting words with the DJ. No one needs to suffer through pop music,” Thalia announces. She claps a hand on both their shoulders, her lips stretched into a warm smile. Thalia looks between the both of them. “So glad to have both my baby brothers in one room again.”
Nico’s chest swells. Two months is the longest he’s been without her since they’ve met.
As though she has the same sentiment, Thalia gives his shoulder one more gratifying squeeze. “We’ll catch up, Neeks. When you’re not drowning because of work.”
“So, never,” Nico corrects for her—and she grins.
Then, she’s off to find her girlfriend in the cluster of people surrounding the Juno Moneta. It’s strange to celebrate a joyous day beneath the One Who Warns—but maybe that’s why the Romans called her that. Don’t marry a chump of a god. Find someone who’s actually worthy of commitment.
“Been busy?” Jason asks, finding Nico through dumb thoughts. He looks better, after Tartarus and carrying the Athena Parthenos.
Nico sighs with exhaustion. Off in the distance he watches Dakota and Thalia trade bar tricks over a glass full of questionable Kool-Aid. The new Fifth Cohort centurion catches his eye and gives him a happy wave.
“Being praetor keeps me on my toes more days than not,” he admits wryly. He folds his arms over his chest, and the bangles chatter at his wrist.
Jason smiles at him, unabashed, and gestures upwards, towards his father’s crypt. “Want to get out of here?”
Nico’s heart skips a beat. There’s a way that Jason says it, as though no time has passed at all, while Nico is stumbling to find even footing. “Weren’t you hanging out with Bianca tonight?”
“I don’t think I can keep up with Bianca.” Jason’s smile widens with mirth, and he gestures over to a gaggle of women who are flocking towards Gwendolyn for the bouquet toss. Bianca is in the mix—but she’s acting more like a referee.
Of course she’d be more in her element at a wedding. More than he feels himself, anyway.
“Besides,” Jason continues in good nature, “I hear praetors make the best tour guides.”
Jason’s enthusiasm for him is unmatched by others. Nico feels his chest flutter. He looks to the scene in front of him and bites back a smile.
“I’d be a bad host if I didn’t show you around,” he agrees. “And we can’t have that.”
“Certainly,” Jason agrees. “Hera would never allow it.”
“Juno,” Nico corrects lightly. “You’re in new waters now, Ambassador Grace. It’d do well for you to learn the culture.”
Jason’s eyes seem to glitter beneath the moonlight. His lips spill into a smile—and as he laughs, Nico feels less unsettled.
*
The music begins to fade as they climb the hilltop towards Pluto’s crypt. They keep the topic light—how Nico managed to find himself in the middle of a wedding when he thought it was for some huge Senate meeting. How Mike Kahale conveniently showed up with jewelry and spruced him up.
Jason laughs as they make it up the hilltop. He crouches to the ground and gathers a bouquet of poppies. “Aphrodite kids. You never know what they’re going to bring to the table.”
“Percy’s a bit confused by them. Something about being too busy washing their hair and painting each other’s nails.” Nico wrinkles his nose—then adds, “His words. Not mine. Percy’s idea of a bath is dunking his head in the Little Tiber.”
Again, Jason laughs—and Nico’s chest grows warm. The son of Hades stands to his feet and hands the bouquet off. “The Aphrodite Kids are a different bunch from the Venus kids. No one really expects them to fight.”
“Nothing wrong with not fighting,” Nico says—and he swears Jason’s smile grows. He watches as Jason tidies the plate at the foot of Pluto’s statue. There’s care there, in the way Jason looks up to the Roman incarnation of his father. In just statue alone, Nico can match the kindness of Jason’s eyes to the King of the Dead. “Percy says that the Hades Cabin is like no other. Have…you had the chance to see it?”
“Not yet,” Jason admits. And he shakes his head. “Hades Cabin was the first one Annabeth wanted to build. She wanted my input before Thal and I left for our trip and kept that up. We talk just about every day now.”
Nico can’t help but feel a surge pride for Jason. He knows what a hard road it was for both Jason and Annabeth to get there. “That’s great, Jason. I’m happy for you.”
He hands the flowers back to Jason wordlessly, with little to be said about the exchange. Instead, Jason smiles, even happier than before. He sets the flowers at his father’s brazier and murmurs soft words—some in the name of the fallen. There’s a different energy to him.
Months ago, Nico remembers loathing Jason when they first met. Ambassador Grace, son of Pluto, who threatened to take Thalia away from him. He was formal in introduction, offering a handshake and a careful smile. Now, though—Nico didn’t think he would ever see Jason Grace on his knees, in a silent prayer to the King of the Dead. The father Jason had a love-hate relationship with when all Nico had for Jupiter was absolute exasperation.
“Was it a good trip?” Nico asks, as Jason dusts off his knees. When it comes to Thalia, Jason lights up.
“I haven’t seen that much of the world, in…well. Ever.” Jason rubs his forehead, and he grows sheepish. “Not since you, me, and Uncle Gleeson.”
“I’m sure your trip with Thalia was a lot more fun than the time crunch we were on.”
Jason chuckles softly. “You and I had our fun. I showed Thalia that varenyky place we went to in Odesa.”
Nico perks at that—the memory of the scent of the sea and older architecture coming to the front of his mind. “What about the museum?”
“No museum,” Jason reports. “She said learning was for nerds.”
Nico snorts. “That sounds like Thalia.”
After two months with her, Jason’s expression is firm. Eight full weeks of nothing but getting to know his big sister. “Yeah, it certainly does.”
The corners of Nico’s lips etch into a smile of its own. He doesn’t know how he could be so against Jason and Thalia getting to know each other months ago. Thalia seems more at peace in retirement—with a brother and girlfriend in either hand, and Nico’s kindled a friendship that he’s grown to enjoy.
A lot.
“How’s praetorship suiting you?”
Nico settles in the slot beside the other demigod and sighs. “A lot of duties. Drills, in the morning. Mediation sessions between the Legionnaires who were loyal to Octavian and the ones who were loyal to Reyna and Thalia. Drills, in the afternoon. Moderating War Games—kissing baby heads. A lot of baby heads.”
“Deliver anymore newborns?” Jason asks, and Nico’s face grows hot.
“No,” Nico admits. “But we’ve tweaked the budget for parental leave. The moment anyone announces they’re pregnant, they go through the right facets to make sure their role within the Legion is all covered. Parents can stay with their children for as long as they need to and rejoin the Legion to finish out their ten years at their own pace. The gods already neglect to visit their children enough. There’s no reason to wish that upon their mortal children trying to start families, too.”
“That’s amazing, Nico,” Jason says. There’s a sense of awe in Jason’s voice that makes Nico’s cheeks flush pink.
His hand curls against his new tattoo—the one that appeared when he earned his last tick mark for bringing the Athena Parthenos to Camp Halfblood.
“I…wouldn’t have a family without the Legion,” Nico admits. “I like helping make it better for everyone. Not just for war.”
“And you’re doing a great job,” Jason continues. He smiles warmly—proudly—at Nico.
Nico thinks back to the words Reyna uttered just this morning. How it only took a trip with Jason Grace for him to consider praetorship a good idea. It’s…hard to describe that trip. How much changed between Jason and him, and how much had changed for himself.
When he described his lineage to the three people who he grew up with—his true lineage, they’d stared at him in confusion. Percy was close to taking it as another sleight against Jason, but Nico knocked that down before it could become an issue. There was no reason to dislike Jason. There never should have been.
“I have some big shoes to fill,” Nico says, and he rubs his tattoo again. “Thalia’s, I mean. She shielded me from this for as long as she could.”
“Thalia wouldn’t have chosen you as her successor if she didn’t think you were already a good leader,” Jason protests. “She’s a good judge of character. And I’ve seen you in action firsthand.”
With each word, Nico feels the heat creep up his cheeks. “I hope you’re not talking about delivering babies.”
“I’m…talking about all of you, Nico,” Jason says—and he stares at Nico oddly. With amazement, that Nico isn’t lifting with each word of praise.
Instead, Nico’s face burns scarlet—at all of him—and he resists the urge to hide his face under his cape.
“I know you’ve been working on expressing yourself,” Nico says slowly, “but I’m hearing a lot about me right now.”
Jason’s chuckle is effervescent. He’s so earnest to Nico’s words, shoulders light, that it’d be exasperating on anyone else. But on Jason, it’s fitting. A smile lifts across his face, and his cheeks dust pink.
“Sorry,” he says sincerely. “I’ve…just missed you. A lot.”
Oh. Nico bites the inside of his mouth, if only to prevent himself from saying something stupid. He shuffles in his seat, hands crossed over his lap, and feels both his face burn and chest swell at the same time. Reyna’s told Nico how excited Jason was to see him, but. It’s still hard to believe.
“I…” Nico stumbles over his words. “I’m. Yeah. It’s going to be nice seeing each other again. I’m glad you moved here. For you, I mean.”
It’s a lot more words than I missed you too. Still, Jason stares at them as though a moment hasn’t passed since their last meeting. There’s warmth and fondness in Jason’s eyes—far more than Nico expects—but he understands. After spending so much time together on their quest, Nico’s spent plenty of days aching for Jason’s company, too.
“Is that the new tattoo?” Jason asks suddenly—and he lights up. Again, for Nico’s sake.
Nico stares down at his mother’s symbol and extends his arm. He pulls up his sleeve, so Jason can get a full look at all of it. “Sometimes I forget it’s changed.”
That he’s not just Nico di Angelo, son of Jupiter, anymore. He upholds Juno’s lineage over Jupiter’s ichor—and has felt more comfortable with himself in the months since the realization.
“Wow,” Jason says—and he’s careful as he wraps a hand around Nico’s wrist. Then—slowly, he traces the curve of the peacock’s neck to the ends of its feathers, his thumb at Nico’s wrist bone.
Nico unintentionally recoils.
“Sorry—” And this time, Jason is the one to blush. “Um—too much?”
“No,” Nico says—and he extends his arm again, flustered. “I. Forgot how cold your hand were.”
Jason joins him in embarrassment, looking as self-conscious as he did months ago about his powers. About himself. “Oh.”
“It’s fine,” Nico says quickly. “I was startled. It’s…been a long day. Go ahead.”
This time, when Jason inspects his arm, he hovers at best. No touching. He looks at the simplistic design of the eagle and the peacock—and he smiles, as though the new ink is on himself. Jason hooks a finger beneath the glass beads of his necklace.
“Getting a tattoo marking all of your triumphs makes these feel a little less cool,” he admits.
“Considering you went to a camp that prioritizes basket weaving and camp singalongs, I’d say that a pretty homemade necklace is fitting, Jason,” Nico retorts—and Jason doesn’t even refute the claim. Nico hesitates—before adding, “But between the two of us, I…think we both know who actually got to have a childhood.”
“You did lose your sister,” Jason reminds him.
“I don’t think I get to say that anymore since she cheated death. Both of them now, actually,” Nico says with a wry amusement. “You…don’t have to downplay what happened at Camp Halfblood, Jason.”
With how rambunctious camp is, the parts where Camp Halfblood groomed Jason will forever leave a bad taste in Nico’s mouth. He’s seen the effects of Jason’s upbringing up close and knows what affect it’s had on Jason. No one needs their childhood stripped away, for the sake of a prophecy or in the name of their father, or whatever.
Yet, Jason’s dimples reappear as he smiles, touched by Nico’s words.
“I’m not,” Jason promises. He curls his hand around the necklace again. “This thing has my whole life on it, but…this summer’s gonna be the first year I don’t add a bead to this.”
“You’ve got more life to live, Jason.”
“I know,” Jason agrees—and his expression is tender. “Thank you for caring, Nico.”
“I’m—” Always going to care. “—just glad that you’re caring for yourself.”
“I should’ve figured out this whole self-care thing out a while ago. It comes with some nice benefits,” Jason jokes—and Nico snorts. Jason’s smile melts into a quiet laugh, and Nico doesn’t hide his next smile. Not when there’s ease between the two of them. “This is nice, Nico. We didn’t get to do this much while we were on the road.”
“Because we were busy fighting for our lives while Coach Hedge was buying Disney World memorabilia,” Nico grumbles. He rubs his knuckles in memory, after so many weeks of straining himself.
For all of the music that plays at the bottom of the hill, Jason’s laughter is a sound Nico enjoys more. Jason does just that with his small rant. There’s no tenseness to it, or a guarded air of someone who is focused on others rather than himself. On getting Hazel a teacher, on meeting Thalia, on making sure Nico’s okay. It’s just an honest Jason Grace, son of Hades, beneath the stars near one of Nico’s favorite places in New Rome.
The stars still look the same, he’d uttered once. When Jason wondered why Nico spent so much time outside.
Stars remained when monuments fell and people have died—but he thinks Jason Grace glows, now that he’s happy with himself. It’s a constellation that Nico’s proud to be a part of.
“We’ll have more time for this now that you’re here,” Nico says—and his chest bubbles. “Bianca’s already discovered the mall. There’s a movie theater in town, and some nice places to eat—”
“An Italian restaurant?” Jason perks. “For gnocchi?”
Nico stares at the son of Hades, amused. Jason only grows sheepish.
“Sorry,” he says. “We…tried to find a good Italian restaurant while we were in Venice. I mentioned your nonna to Thalia.”
“Did you find good gnocchi?”
“I think I need to know what great gnocchi tastes like to know if I had bad gnocchi,” Jason admits—and he flushes pink as Nico actually laughs. “I…don’t get out much.”
“I’ve noticed,” Nico teases. “But yes. If you want good Italian food, then I can take you.”
“Tomorrow for lunch?”
Nico’s brain hiccups in the middle of their conversation. He looks back at Jason, who stares back. There’s a gentle excitement to his expression as he smiles in Nico’s way, and Nico can’t help but feel his heart skip a beat. Then—
“No,” Nico says, and he presses a hand to his face. “There’s a new education facility open in town. I promised to attend. They’re feeding us.”
“What about for dinner?” Jason asks, which just makes Nico flush.
“War Games are tomorrow evening,” Nico says. “And…two weddings back-to-back the day after that.”
“Oh,” is all Jason can say. He’s disarmed by the answer, while Nico grows self-conscious.
“Sorry,” Nico offers. “You’re right. I’ve been busy. I…might’ve offered to take the load off of Reyna so she and Thalia can spend time together.”
Once he says that, he feels his own disappointment setting in. He’d pushed off Thalia and Jason’s return for a reason—but being here now, falling into the steps he is with Jason, makes him wonder if it was a good decision.
Judging from the look on Jason’s face, that sentiment is shared—which makes the rejection feel even worse. But, Jason nudges him in the shoulder.
“You’re free now,” Jason says—and Nico’s chest tingles.
“You missed the part where I gorged myself on wedding cake,” Nico grumbles, and his face flushes.
Jason laughs again. “I’m perfectly fine where we are, Nico.”
“Really,” Nico remarks with deadpan. “Here, on top of a hill, next to the King of the Dead, on your first day in New Rome, when your best friend and sister are nowhere to be seen, and I’m dressed in the gaudiest—”
“Nico,” Jason interrupts—and he drops a hand on Nico’s shoulder, amused. Then he drops it, regarding Nico’s comment of cold hands earlier. Still, the smile doesn’t wane. “Allow me to express how much I’ve missed your company.”
Nico stares back—at the cheeky flicker in Jason’s eyes, and the cute dimples at his cheeks. He coughs—if only to hide his own fluster—and smiles. “Look at you, using your words.”
The grateful look over Jason’s face means everything.
“We could go back down to the Juno Moneta if you want,” Jason says gently. “It wouldn’t be the first time you and I crashed a wedding chapel.”
Gods. Nico ducks his head in a quiet titter and pushes a lock of hair behind his ear. “No…I’m. I’m good with here. If you are.”
He doesn’t think he’ll ever understand why, but that confirmation is good enough for Jason. Charcoal eyes flicker brighter than the constellations above them, and Jason happily obliges. “Me too.”
They talk for a long time. Nico doubts he’ll get any sleep before he goes to the event tomorrow—but he finds himself not caring.
Jason explores the details of all the places they went to—Pripyat (“You seriously went to the Nuclear Plant.” “I…wasn’t joking about that, Nico.”), Odesa, Moscow (“How’s our friend Ivan?” “He’s really enjoying pedicures now.”) and so on.
When Jason talks about the other places he’s been—where Thalia insisted that they go, now that she was an adult—he lights up. There’s a childlike gleam that wasn’t there in their first meeting, now that he has a big sister to fall back on.
And—of all the sisters that Nico’s had in his life, he’s first to admit that Thalia is one of the best.
Eventually, the music fades below them. Bianca finds them seated where they are, with her clothes tattered and askew, hair sticking in odd directions.
“You know what’s worse than people fighting over a bouquet?” she asks wryly—while Nico bites back a laugh. “Demigods who have combat experience.”
“You okay?” Jason stands to his feet immediately to inspect her—but Nico suspects a friendly gust helped separate everyone in Bianca’s immediate proximity. Still—the nerves have evidently eased for Bianca as she and Jason address each other.
“Weddings are violent as war zones,” Bianca mutters—in a fashion that’s too reminiscent to Nico himself. “Don’t forget that, Jace.”
“I…don’t think I’ll have to worry about that anytime soon,” Jason muses—and he flashes Nico an odd look. Nico can’t help but echo the sentiment. For all the battles he’s been a part of, Disney World’s wedding chapel is high on the list.
“It’s getting late,” Bianca says. She smooths out her hair until it looks presentable and flashes a look to Jason. “Looks like my brother stole you away for the evening, Jace. I didn’t even notice.”
There’s a rebuttal on Nico’s tongue—but Jason laughs.
“I don’t think I could keep up with you if I tried, Bee,” Jason says—and he gestures to Nico. “Nico’s more my speed.”
He smiles warmly—evidently deciding to cut off an infamous di Angelo argument. Nico’s had enough of those today. Still—he blushes.
“It’ll be an eventful day tomorrow,” Nico agrees—and he flashes a pointed look in Bianca’s direction. “And I’d actually like to sleep in tonight, Sis.”
Bianca flushes without argument—and shrugs. “The house is clean.”
Before anything else is said, Jason extends a hand out to both of them. His lips lift into a smile. “Allow me.”
The touch tingles as Nico curls his hand around Jason’s own. Whether it’s intended or not, Jason grazes the tips of Nico’s fingers like ages ago, and the smile on his face broadens.
For the first time in months, Nico drops into the shadows with Jason Grace.
*
He doesn’t realize how much he misses the tendrils of Jason’s darkness until he’s in it. It’s a sudden, incomparable rush—almost like a blast of cold air or a bucket of ice water. Once it happens, it suddenly stops happening—and they appear right in front of the praetor house.
Bianca sighs blissfully at the sight of her home, while Nico reorients himself.
“Welcome home,” Jason says. He points down the street and gestures to an apartment building, for Nico’s sake. “Thalia and I are over there.”
“Too far,” Bianca admonishes—but then she smiles. She hovers above the ground and pulls the son of Hades in an embrace. There are softer words murmured—words that Nico doesn’t get to hear himself—with the reaffirmation that both Jason and she both want to be close again. Then, “Good night, Jace.”
“Night,” Jason says—and his smile seems fuller.
Nico pushes away a needling thought. That despite the hectic battle Bianca saw at the wedding she and Jason look good together.
Then Jason turns to Nico, and his eyes light up like they did at the crypt. He opens his arms—
And Nico offers a hand, like their first reunion, before he can stop himself.
Jason blinks—and stare at the outreached hand in confusion.
Heat flushes over Nico’s face—and he feels the back of his throat dry. He opens his mouth to speak. Closes it.
“I smell awful,” Nico says finally. He gestures to Bianca behind him. “This one assaulted me with a vacuum cleaner this morning.”
Bianca makes a sound. “I did not—”
“Oh,” Jason says—and he blinks again. He smiles softly and meets Nico’s hand with his own. It’s…much like earlier, where his thumb brushed against Nico’s knuckles. “Good night, Nico.”
“Good night, Jason.” Nico decides not to think about how much his hand tingles at the contact.
Jason gives them both one last wave before he melts into the shadows again—presumably straight to his new room. Jason Grace, son of Hades. New Rome’s newest residence, with a benevolent smile and kind eyes.
A yawn escapes Bianca’s lips, and she nudges him. “Time to turn in for the night, Nico.”
It takes a moment. Two.
“Yeah,” Nico agrees, after he gathers his bearings. Still, he finds it hard to peel his gaze away.
Bianca hooks an arm into his with an exhausted sigh, and he leans into her warmth. Then, for the second time in his life, his big sister pulls him, with the same three words from the alley way back in Venice at the front of his mind.
*
