Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

They first meet in the gardens of Olympus.

Jason is tending to the flowers that have wilted with winter’s breath, pulling out weeds and crunching dead grass between his sandals. He chooses to go in the afternoon before the big meeting, when Aunt Demeter has grown tired of weeping in her flower bed. Jason is in charge of throwing away her crumpled tissues at least once a week.

He's busy plucking tissues out of the branches of a large tree (no doubt from his father’s latest opportunistic scheme) that he doesn’t notice someone else entering Demeter’s Greenhouse.

“So this is what Auntie Demeter’s garden looks like.”

Jason pauses, arms full of enough stale tissues to forge a new sword. As he gazes at the ground, his heart skips a beat.

A very pretty boy meets his gaze, with a warm hue to his pale skin and eyes as dark as flint. His hair is long and mussed, the shade contrasted by the rich ruby jewels and gold trim at his ears. He’s dressed in ebony robes darker than midnight, and the same gold trim streaks across his clavicle.

Jason has seen many colors in Olympus—the neutral grays and browns worn by his eldest sister, Athena. The red-drenched white Ares wears, which echo of the poor souls who’ve incurred his wrath. These robes though—as black as the night and adorned with rich trim, feel foreign to him. Jason is partial to the white robes lain out by his stepmother—while Thalia, the sister closest in age to him, would rather accessorize with her hunting knife like Artemis. He thinks she would appreciate the brooding quality to this boy’s wardrobe.

“Hello,” the boy says politely—which is when Jason realizes he’s been inspecting for far too long. “Are you one of her nymphs?”

That’s enough to make Jason laugh. He’s never been mistaken for a nymph before—they’re far too pretty and delicate in comparison to the callouses on Jason’s fingers. “Oh—no. Just a cheap cleaning service for my aunt.”

“Oh,” the boy says, and the way the blush blooms around his cheeks reminds Jason of roses stretching on the first day of spring. “I don’t come to Olympus very often.”

“I think I’d remember a face like yours,” Jason says—which elicits an arched eyebrow from his new companion. Then—”I totally said that out loud, didn’t I?”

“Possibly,” the boy muses—and he doesn’t necessarily look annoyed, he looks wary of Jason’s words. “A son of Apollo, are you?”

Two arrows fired, with neither hitting their target. “A son of Zeus, actually. My name is Jason.”

“Oh,” is all the boy says—and somehow, that’s apparently worse.

Jason grows worried in that millisecond and straightens up. “And—you?”

The boy is hesitant. “Nico.”

Suddenly the flowers swell to life around them. The trees stretch their branches towards the sun with the breath of spring, and an array of lilies, goldenrods, gardenias, and tulips. A brook babbles behind Jason, and the dried brown and yellow grass glows green.

Jason isn’t surprised. Part of the reason why he doesn’t mind cleaning up after his aunt at the end of winter is to see spring come back to life. He reaches over to a nearby bush, where a sweet pink flower reminds him of the delicate hue in the boy’s face.

“Welcome to Olympus, Nico,” Jason says. He’s holding it out to the other boy before he realizes it.

Nico stares at the flower curiously, almost hesitant to take it.

“Go on,” Jason urges. “You’ll never see flowers more beautiful than in Olympus.”

He’s proud to brag about the sister that made them. Nico weighs those words carefully and hesitantly reaches out with nimble fingers. There’s a brief moment where his hand brushes against Jason’s, and the taller demigod almost shivers at how cold Nico’s hands are.

Then the flower wilts the moment it touches Nico’s hands.

 “Oh, Hades,” Jason says. He blinks in surprise, and suddenly the pink is dusting over Nico’s face again, embarrassed. But certainly not surprised.

“Ah,” Nico mumbles. “That happens.”

That’s confusing. “But why—?”

“Little Jason,” Persephone, Queen of the Underworld, suddenly appears—and she brushes a hand over Nico’s shoulder as she appears. At first, Jason grows excited to see her—it’s rare for his siblings to stick around Olympus—but Persephone takes the seasons with her as she appears, and spring is her entrance. Her gown is a mix of flower petals, thorns, and skulls—symbols of her power, and symbols of where she reigns. A glint of amusement sparks in her eyes. Jason thinks his big sister Thalia can mimic it all too well. “I see you’ve met my stepson.”

“Stepson?” The realization hits Jason immediately. He stares at the boy in front of him—the olive complexion of his face gleaming with a ghostly quality, and the robes suddenly looking like the liquid darkness of shadows. “Oh.”

The boy before Jason is Nico, son of Hades and prince of the Underworld.

*

Jason has only met one other child of the Underworld. Ares’s son, Frank, is dating a petite girl with bronze skin and gold eyes. At first glance, Hazel isn’t the slightest bit scary. But Jason has always noticed the nervous look on Frank’s face when she reaches for the jewel-encrusted longsword on her hip—or the queasiness in Frank’s eyes when she races chariots.

He catches himself staring across the throne room at Nico of the Underworld, wondering the same thing. Nico doesn’t look delicate like his sister. His arms are taut, lined with scars from battle. He carries a sword with a black and gold-trimmed sheath, like he was sent by the King of the Underworld to guard the Queen—looking so comically small compared to the eight-foot-tall goddess. Jason would guess he could effortlessly rest his chin in that bed of black hair.

His mother used to tell stories of the Underworld when Thalia or he misbehaved—and in turn, Thalia took the tales in stride and often joined Artemis on hunts. Sometimes the monsters looming in the Underworld leaked into the surface, their mother explained. Thalia gladly partook in the sport of slaying beasts. Often more than not, Jason urged to join her—but these days, besotted Thalia has followed her heart to the Amazonian Queen’s little sister.

He will be attending in place of my husband, Persephone explained, and the weight of the words astounds Jason. Ever since birth, he’s accepted he’ll bear the weight of his father’s shadow. Plenty hold it, offering no assistance to their fellow bastard sibling, and search for their own independent glory to make their father proud. Thalia insists she’d rather court a daughter of a war goddess.

But, for the son of the King whose entire realm is filled with shadows, Nico sticks out like a sore thumb. He’s small—much smaller than a god for sure, but maybe that’s why Jason is so intrigued. A demigod son sent in the place of the King of the Underworld at the meeting on this first day of spring.

Persephone sits in the small throne at her mother’s side. Jason is generally on the receiving end of her complaints of how the Underworld has a much bigger throne for her, adorned with thorns and black roses. She sits, exasperated and unheard on the bright day that she’s graced the surface, and Nico sits at her feet, away from the wary glances from two of the three kings. The suspicious look Hera gives Nico makes Jason nervous.

The way Nico arches a brow and pretends not to notice makes Jason smile.

All the while, in contrast to the brooding dark robes and olive skin, Nico holds the pink-colored rose delicately in his fingers—revived in the presence of the Spring Goddess—and spins Jason’s gift with as much gentleness that Persephone has always advised.

Jason wonders if he could convince Persephone to teach him how to grow some flowers like that, too.

*

“Little Nico!” Thalia greets from the meeting—and her strides towards the son of Hades prompts Percy and Jason as well. “The last time I saw you, you barely came up to my chest.”

Nico looks wary of her. There’s an air of regality to his demeanor, as though he truly is the King of Darkness himself. It’s an energy that Jason isn’t familiar with. But he nods his head curtly. “Hi, Thalia. Hi, Percy.”

“Someone let you out of your cage down there?” Percy jokes, though it sounds poorly-timed.

The next smile on Nico’s face is suddenly grimmer, and the goosebumps rise across Jason’s arms. “Sometimes.”

“You guys know each other?” Jason asks, confused at the familiarity between the three. He almost feels like he’s intruding.

Yet, his big sister smiles at him, her expression so reminiscent to the one Queen Persephone carries. “Nico’s sister will occasionally go hunting with us. We’ve known Nico since he was ten.”

Percy grins, nudging Nico in the rib, but judging from the way the son of Hades scrunches his nose, Percy has reached his capacity in jokes today. “How old are you now, your edginess?”

“Fifteen,” Nico says, and he’s careful as he cradles the pink rose between his fingers. It threatens to wilt without Persephone near. The pastel petals suit the pale blitheness of his fingers. Jason’s entranced by the nimbleness of them—and wonders, how they can still look so pretty with such an unyielding sword strapped to his belt. “…do you know each other?”

“What?” Jason asks. He realizes he’s staring again.

Nico arches an eyebrow—and Jason realizes he zoned out. “I asked, how do you know each other?”

“Oh,” is all Jason has to say. He suddenly stands erect when he notices Thalia’s gaze lift to him. “Thalia is my sister.”

“Ah,” Nico says, and he wrinkles his nose, showing the same disdain from earlier. “Right. Son of Zeus.”

“Who isn’t?” Percy remarks, and Thalia hits him.  

“We also share a mother,” Thalia explains—which evidently piques Nico’s interest. Jason knows the occurrence is rare—for a god to romance the same mortal twice. That’s probably the reason why he doesn’t remember their mother well.

“I’ve never seen you before,” Nico admits, completely ignoring the son of Poseidon. For some reason, Jason’s heart skips a beat. The words feel like they hold the same intensity of him saying he’d remember a face like Nico’s. Nico is inspecting him, evidently curious.

“You know our stepmother,” Thalia says. “Hera keeps Jason to herself. Always has.”

Nico looks fascinated by that. Despite the lack of familiarity with Olympus, he evidently notices something askew with Jason’s childhood. “A son of Zeus, favored by Hera.”

“And named after her favorite hero.” Jason smiles awkwardly.

“Big sandals to fill,” Nico notes.

“Tell me about it,” Jason jokes. “Ambassador to Hades.”

Somehow, that strikes a chord with Nico. The edge of his lip curls with mirth, and he arches an eyebrow. “I’m flattered you think so highly of me.”

“You called me a nymph earlier,” Jason says. “Consider it me returning the compliment.”

There’s a silence amongst them. Nico frowns momentarily, evidently embarrassed—and Jason suddenly has the eyes of both Percy and Thalia on him.

“I said that out loud again, didn’t I?” Jason asks.

“You did,” Percy reassures.

Red burns in Jason’s cheeks, and he clears his throat.

“Nico, darling,” Persephone calls off in the distance. “It’s time to go.”

Luckily—before Jason can embarrass himself any further, Nico answers the call of the Queen of the Underworld.

Nico bows his head politely. “Always a pleasure, Percy. Thalia.” He turns carefully to address Jason, and there’s a momentary pause as they glance at one another. “Jason.”

“Bye, Nico.” Jason’s heart lifts a little as he watches Nico tuck the flower in his belt.

He resists all urge to follow after.

*

“You like him.”

Jason startles when Thalia appears in his bed chambers. He casts a glance from his hammock—the one that binds him closer to the skies—while she stares at him expectantly from the shiny marble floors. “I’m sorry?”

“Nico, the son of Hades,” Thalia says—and at the mention of their uncle, the shadows in the room feel like they’ve grown darker. So does Jason’s face—but the hue of his cheeks is nothing like the evening’s visit in his room. “You couldn’t keep your eyes off of him at the meeting this afternoon.”

“I—that’s not—” Jason makes a noise, wondering if he could just stay in his hammock. “You’re implying that you couldn’t keep your eyes off of me, you know.”

“You’re far more interesting to pay attention to than Dad,” Thalia insists dismissively. “And I was very intrigued.”

The marble tiles are so pristine that Jason can see a reflection of his own glowing face. “I’ve never seen a demigod of his variety before.”

“That’s because Hera never allows you further than arm’s length. I’m surprised she even lets you take a piss by yourself, little brother.”

Jason’s laugh echoes against the empty walls. He has no doubt that his sister’s disdain for their stepmother will be a tale for generations. “I’ve gotten the hang of wiping myself, at least.”

Thalia’s own laugh is sharper than his own. She cruises the length of his room and settles in his daybed. “So are you going to come down and spill your heart to your big sister?”

Heat tingles in Jason’s cheeks. He descends from his hammock—dodging the countless fashionable pillows that his sister throws in his direction. “There isn’t much to spill. We’ve only met today.”

He catches a pillow before it strikes his face and throws it back at her with a gust of wind. Thalia shouts. “Cheater!”

“Foul play,” Jason rebuts, and he lands beside her on the daybed.

“So are you going to court him?” Thalia asks.

“Court?” Jason’s voice breaks at the word, and he can’t help but shake his head with disbelief. “You’re gifted the heart of one girl and suddenly you’re an expert in romance?”

“Well, would you like his heart?” Thalia asks pointedly. She grins wolfishly as Jason flushes again. “He’s visiting intermittently through the spring and summer as Persephone’s attendant. You have plenty of chances to woo him.”

“Woo,” Jason repeats, and the word sounds foreign on his tongue. He doesn’t have much experience in this area—the closest he’s come to courting anyone is when their stepmother foolishly tried to set him up with Piper. He loves Piper—but there was a severe lack of chemistry between them.

Nico, on the other hand…the conversation-and-a-half that he’s had with the other demigod keeps replaying in his head.

“Admit it,” Thalia teases. “You’re thinking about it.”

Jason thinks his shot was gone long before he ever met Nico of the Underworld. “He doesn’t seem too fond of children of Zeus.”

“I don’t think he’s fond of Olympus in general.”

“But why?”

Thalia shrugs nonchalantly, evidently unbothered by this fact. Jason supposes it makes sense—she always preferred going hunting and sailing the seas over sitting in a stuffy room with colossal giants that argued which part of the world should be in famine at particular times of the year. “A few things. You know the three kings—they don’t have the best repertoire with each other. Dad might have done something stupid.”

Oh, gods. There’s a nonzero chance that Dad hasn’t tried to sleep with Nico’s mother. If people based their judgment of him on that though, Jason doesn’t think he’d have any friends.

“And—Apollo might know a little more about it,” Thalia says. “I think he’s interacted a few more times with Nico for one reason or another. I think Nico dated his son.”

At the mention of that, Jason’s heart hiccups in a mild panic. “Dated. Like past tense.”

Thalia looks amused. “Well, I don’t know him well enough to make that assessment, little brother. You may have to ask yourself.”

Jason slumps a little. “What if I don’t like the answer?”

“Well, you already have the answer to one thing.”

“What’s that?”

Thalia latches an arm around his neck and gives his head an affectionate ruffle. Jason almost chokes.

“Thalia—”

“He’s got a thing for blonds,” she jokes.

*

Nico mostly lingers around his stepmother. Jason often sees the other demigod trailing the Queen of the Underworld, silently trailing in her shadows as she entertains Demeter. He’s dutiful in his first few days in Olympus—but then Jason notices as Nico tentatively warms and smiles at Aunt Hestia.

Jason’s in the middle of running errands with Hermes when he spots them near her hearth—and when he comes back at Apollo’s slumber, they’re still talking under the crackling flames. Jason can’t help but admire the way the shadows dance around Nico’s face. They soften gaunt lines into streaks of charcoal, and with each new day, Jason is fascinated by a boy who looks so out of place on Olympus and still holds his head with regality.

Hestia catches him staring. She beckons him over. “Have you met Nico, Jason?”

“Yes,” Jason says, and he turns to meet Nico’s gaze. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Nico greets.

And then they stare at each other. Today, Nico is wearing emeralds in his ears. There’s a gold cuff over his left bicep, and Jason is curious of the scars on his arms. The black robes almost look liquid as they fall on his narrow frame—and there’s a sheen to them that Jason’s never seen before in Olympian-quality fabric. He wonders if Athena is familiar with its properties.

“Are you enjoying your stay at Olympus?” Jason asks, when he finds his voice.

Nico shifts between his sandals, and the very movement hides the emeralds in his ears. Jason’s almost disappointed. “There are some things here you won’t find in the Underworld.”

Funny, Jason thinks. He was just thinking about things you couldn’t find in Olympus. He gestures to their aunt. “Aunt Hestia makes the best food. You’ll have to try it.”

Aunt Hestia looks amused. Her eyes are as warm as her hearth, not quite as polished as Jason’s stepmother’s, but somehow more welcoming. Jason has never worried about stepping out of line with her. “Perhaps one of these days, little Jason, when you slow down enough to see me."

Those words make Jason blush sheepishly. “I’m sorry, Aunt Hestia.”

“That’s quite alright, dear boy. My other nephew felt obliged to greet me,” Hestia says, and she gestures with a newfound familiarity in Nico that makes the other demigod look shy. “Not most people stop by these days for my conversation.”

“Nico isn’t like most people,” Jason guesses.

“My father always asks Persephone to bring back an extra basket of your cookies every fall,” Nico explains. “I had to give my compliments to the chef.”

Humble Aunt Hestia’s smile only glows. “I’ll be sure to send you off with more in the near future, sweet Nico.”

Nico seems to perk at this, his own shy smile soft in her wake. Then he turns to Jason. “Olympus isn’t what I expected.”

“Oh?” Jason asks, and his heart skips a beat. In some strange way, he finds pride in the fact that Hestia has left a good impression on this Underworld boy. He can only hope to do the same.

“It’s…” Nico’s eyebrows furrow together. “Nicer.”

“Not all of it is nice,” Jason reassures. “But I hope all of the parts you get to see are nice.”

Nico stare at him with a quiet fascination that makes Jason self-conscious. He tilts his head, and the earrings dangle with him, and Jason wonders if he’s taken a misstep in their conversation.

“You’re certainly not what I imagined from the Underworld,” Jason blurts out, to remedy the situation, and suddenly Nico looks confused. “You’re not…scary looking. Or mean.”

He thinks he hears Aunt Hestia stifle a laugh.

“Not scary and not mean,” Nico echoes, his voice filled with deadpan. “What am I to you, son of Zeus?”

“Well…” Jason tries to find the words in his mind because he’s not quite sure if Nico looks offended or flattered. He’s too busy noticing the way the embers refract in the emeralds in Nico’s ears, and how the light glows against Nico’s olive face. “Um. You’re more handsome than I expected, I guess.”

He's certainly less vicious than the tales Hera would threaten Thalia and he with when they were younger. There’s an intimidating air about him—but nothing more than the air of a guarded boy that wants to protect his stepmother. His family. Maybe that’s why Hestia and Nico get along so well.

Nico looks confused. Then amused. “Are you implying that the Underworld doesn’t have handsome men?”

Oh, Hades. He said that out loud, didn’t he? Jason clears his throat. “I can’t really imply there aren’t any handsome men, now can I?”

This time, Nico flushes. His mouth parts for a brief second, and then his lips sew into an ambiguous line.

Hestia coughs.

“I’m not very good at this,” Jason admits, when his panicked heart starts hammering in his chest.

“No, you aren’t,” his aunt agrees.

“Good at what?” Nico asks, though he looks hesitant to continue the conversation.

“Um…” Jason trails off again, truly at a loss of words. “Courting?”

At first, he wonders if the Underworld even has a tradition like that. Persephone often gushes how she was the dowry for the King of the Underworld—no courting needed. But then Nico’s face glows, redder than the rubies from the other day—and the poor boy looks mortified.

“Courting,” Nico repeats.

“Oh—” Yet another thing Jason is stunned leaves his mouth.  “Um—forget I said that.”

Nico eyes him suspiciously. He clears his throat, swift to gather to his feet, and nods his head politely at Hestia. “Okay then. I’ll—I’ll be turning in for the night, Aunt Hestia. It was nice talking to you.”

“Trust me, my sweet nephew,” Hestia reassures, and her gaze glints back and forth between them. “The pleasure of this conversation is all mine.”

He walks in the opposite direction of Jason and their aunt, mumbling incoherencies under his breath. Jason thinks he catches Nico stealing a glance at them before disappearing beneath the portico.

“That wasn’t nearly as long as the conversation the two of you had,” Jason observes, his cheeks still red under the heat of the hearth.

“And yet somehow,” Aunt Hestia answers him pitifully, “that was agonizingly slow as I watched.”

*

Jason passes by Aunt Demeter’s greenhouse a few days later—where Persephone often resides when she isn’t joined at the hip with her mother. He catches his goddess sister and her stepson on a splayed picnic blanket sharing tea and a plate of Aunt Hestia’s savory cookies. The sound of his stomach growling announces his presence.

“Jason, darling!” Persephone perks, her eyes lighting up at his presence, and she waves him over.

It’s hard not to miss the way Nico shrinks. Jason would rather not interrupt them—he was enjoying the sight of big sister Persephone exercising her role as the Queen of the Underworld, looking eloquent as she and Nico discussed something out of earshot. She doesn’t stop pouting until he answers her call.

“I’ve been back weeks now, and my babiest brother hasn’t come to greet me?” Persephone asks—and her tone of voice is shrill and different from the image of a regal queen.

Her robes are different from the ones she appeared in on the first day of springs—soft, gentle, and billowy, compared to the garish jewelry and red liquid dress he’s used to. As a queen, she pads her shoulders with black roses. As his sister, she looks more childish. He thinks she carries her free-spirit regardless of wardrobe.

“Sorry, Persephone,” Jason says—and his eyes fall to Nico, who suddenly finds the cookie in his hand far more fascinating. There’s kohl over his eyes today. Jason isn’t familiar with the gemstone in Nico’s cuff. It’s black and smooth, refracting multiple colors even without the help of light. It vaguely reminds him of Piper’s eyes, but…prettier.

He's suddenly aware at how the Queen and Prince of the Underworld can resemble each other so easily, with just the arch of an eyebrow. Jason wonders if he said that out loud.

“Care to sit, Jason?” Persephone asks—and she seems to think nothing of it. She waves a hand. If it bothers Nico, it doesn’t show—and suddenly the Underworldly demigod is scooting to the side and peeling an orange instead.

Their legs brush together in the briefest moment—and Jason watches Nico tense. Red burns in his cheeks, and Jason decides best to lean closer to his sister.

“Has Auntie got you busy running her errands again?” Persephone asks. She wrinkles her nose in distaste and rolls her eyes. “Mothers.”

“Just a few,” Jason assures. “I fed the peacocks today.”

“Ugh,” Persephone says. “That sounds terrible. Staying in Olympus day in and day out. How boring.”

Nico stops peeling his orange. “You do it, stepmother.”

“Not by choice,” she says.

“Didn’t you choose six seeds specifically?” Jason asks—though it isn’t much of a question. He’s been fascinated by the story of his sister’s love since he was a child. At his inquiry, he notices Nico perk with interest.

Persephone sniffs, raising her nose to the air before she sips more tea. “I should’ve eaten more.”

“Please,” Nico says with deadpan, “I think my father’s reputation has suffered enough, stepmother.”

She sniffs again, and Jason thinks he hears her mutter brat under her breath. Then he thinks he sees a ghost of a smile across Nico’s lips.

“She was fine with the marriage at first,” Persephone complains, and she crosses her arms over her chest. “But then it was all, you never visit enough! Is he giving you food? You’re wearing too much black! A few centuries of not obeying her rules and she decides to badmouth my beloved. Over too much black! How offensive!”

“So offensive,” Nico agrees.

“You have a fantastic wardrobe,” Jason concurs. He notices Nico staring at him again, evidently trying to hide a smile.   

She stares at Jason with equal deadpan, and Jason stifles a laugh.

“I pity the poor fool who courts you one day, my sweet Jason,” she says. “Hopefully Auntie won’t be as unbearable as my mother.”

“I’m sure she has my best interest at heart,” Jason says—having long given up on reasoning with the Queen of the Gods. He’s palpably aware, however, how Nico’s hands freeze at the mention of courting—and how Persephone stares at him with as much derisiveness as she does every year she returns.

“Nico, darling,” Persephone says, “alert Menoetes I have more shit for him to clean.”

Nico coughs, still not reaching Jason’s eye. “Right away, stepmother.”

(He does nothing.)

“What an unusual time to be eating in the garden,” Jason observes, deciding to steer the conversation in a different direction. He notices Nico lax a little, nimble fingers breaking apart the orange instead. Nico hesitates—before breaking off half and giving it to a surprised Jason.

Nico is reluctant to speak. Beneath the stars, there’s a bluish quality to his skin. While most slumbered in the evening, Nico seems to thrive. Finally, he explains, “The dark nights reminds me of home.”

Oh. “There are some beautiful caverns around here,” Jason says. “Some with glowing stones. We could harvest some for more jewelry if you want.”

Nico stares at him again, wary. His eyebrows furrow together, and the kohl looks more prominent around his eyes. They accentuate the hue of his irises. Jason swallows.

“Please,” Persephone bemoans, and she rolls her eyes. “This air is good for you. Nico hardly ever leaves the Underworld anymore. I worry he doesn’t know the difference between a nymph and a satyr most days.”

At the mention of that, Nico’s cheeks flush a darker shade of red. Under his breath, he grumbles, “I found out the difference eventually.”

“Have you found all of the nice things about Olympus yet?” Jason asks. He finds himself hopeful for some reason.

“I’ve found…things,” Nico says, skeptical. He eyes Jason warily and Jason hopes his red face isn’t apparent under the evening sky.  

“What is it that you said the first day, darling? About the gardens?” Persephone asks. “You called the attendants stunning, I believe.”

“What attendants?” Jason asks—and Nico tenses. For all the time he’s hung out in Demeter’s Garden, he’d hardly call the tornado of tissues stunning. Most of the nature spirits steered clear out of Demester’s path, lest they wanted to be tied to a chair and spoon-fed milky grains. “I’m usually the only one here during the fall and winter.”

Persephone opens her mouth to speak—then closes it. She turns to Nico, and there’s a muted conversation between stepmother and stepson. It goes on for so long that Jason feels himself grow awkward. There’s a lot of glaring and eyebrow work.

“I’m glad there’s somewhere on Olympus that reminds you of home,” he offers. Jason shifts uncomfortably. He reaches for one of Hestia’s cookies and offers half to the other boy. “I’ve never been away from Olympus myself. I imagine I’d be homesick.”

Nico takes the other half of the cookie slowly. He snorts. “That’s surprising. I was under the impression that your type was busy saving the world.”

“My type?” Jason blinks in confusion.

“Heroes.” Nico tilts his head with slight curiosity when Jason doesn’t immediately answer.  “Olympians. Children of Zeus, all trying to become the next Heracles.”

Jason smiles weakly. “I think my path has already strayed far away from becoming the next Heracles.”

Nico looks confused by that but doesn’t comment.

“Auntie has kept Jason close to her nape since the mortal age of two,” Persephone explains, and she rolls her eyes. “Dad named Jason after her favorite hero to appease her—and of course, she said, if he’s for me, then he’s mine. Have you ever seen the surface, sweet Jason? All the luscious greenery. I do a fantastic job.”

“Only what you’ve done in the gardens,” Jason says, and he gestures around them.

“So you’ve never been to the surface,” Nico surmises.

“We’re not much different,” Jason insists. “I stay in the heavens. You hide in the shadows.”

Nico arches another eyebrow, evidently unsatisfied with the answer. “I hide by choice.”

Jason shrugs. “Perhaps you can show me the Underworld, sometime. It’s only fair if you’re here in Olympus with my sister.”

Persephone claps her hands with delight. “Splendid! Just say the word, babiest brother, and I’ll enthrall you with some scrumptious food from our royal kitchen!”

Nico flushes at that, evidently not nearly as enticed by the idea. “I don’t know if Jason would last very long in the Underworld, stepmother.”

“Why not?” Jason blinks.

There’s hesitation—and in the darkness, Jason thinks Nico’s olive skin glows just a shade darker. He gestures vaguely at Jason’s firm and clears his throat. “You wouldn’t last long in your…ensemble.”

“My ensemble?” Jason stares down at himself in confusion. His robes are white and pristine, pressed and primped only in the way Hera would approve. Jason has always favored his birth mother—Thalia’s told him he has her pale blond hair and her fair skin. Jason thinks Hera adorns him in the white chiton to steer him away from that image. To make it clear he is her son and resembles her husband.

“The Underworld is cold. Devoid of mortality. You…” Nico coughs awkwardly and blushes. “You’re dressed…sparsely.”

“You’ll nip, babiest brother,” Persephone says, more forward. She pats Jason on the shoulder, and the fabric slides across his clavicle with it. “I’m sure you’ll be fine. Adonis survives.”

“If that’s the only thing that worries you, I’ll be sure to dress in layers,” Jason says—and his heart lifts at the way Nico smiles. There’s amusement there.

“That’s a long ways away.” Nico finishes his cookie and leans back into the picnic blanket. “So long as you’re not worried about the Underworld being too creepy or scary.”

Persephone looks offended. “Those are the best parts about the Underworld.”

“If the Underworld is as beautiful as an evening in the gardens, I’m sure I have nothing to worry about,” Jason says, and he tries to get a read on the way that Nico arches his eyebrow. “I look forward to seeing all the nice things below.”

Nico looks amused by those words. “I’m far from finishing seeing the nice things Olympus has to offer, Jason.”

Oh yeah. “That you are,” Jason says, and he tries not to float as he smiles. The spring season is just beginning.

Out of nowhere, Persephone claps her hands together—startling the both of them.

“It’s a date then,” she declares—which leaves both of them confused.

“Um—what’s a date?” Jason’s eyebrows furrow together.

Persephone’s eyes only glimmer with excitement. “Showing Nico everything boring Olympus has to offer, of course! How about first thing in the morning, babiest brother?”

A date, with Nico, the son of Hades. Jason’s throat dries. “I—um. Sure.”

“Nico?” Persephone asks.

Nico glares with exasperation. Though—it’s unclear if it’s directed at his stepmother, or at Jason.

*

Jason is so anxious that he doesn’t get much sleep that night. He’s up bright and early, tidying his bedchambers to rid himself of nerves. Hera drops by once and tuts that his robes are wrinkled. When she leaves, Thalia wrestles him into submission and wrinkles his new robes.

“Did you tell Persephone that I’m courting Nico?” Jason asks, as he inspects his reflection to readjust his headpiece.

Thalia pauses from his daybed—and in the mirror, he can see her arched eyebrow. “Are you courting Nico?”

Jason flushes. “You told me to.”

“I didn’t think you’d actually do it, Jaybird,” Thalia muses, and she laughs as the sheen of gold bangles on his wrists are suddenly ruined by his red face. “Do you even know what you’re doing? Have you courted anyone before?”

“Piper doesn’t count,” Jason says—which is more of a declaration than it is a question.

“Piper absolutely does not count,” Thalia echoes. “Does Persephone know you’re courting Nico?”

“I don’t know,” Jason admits. “I, um. I might have accidentally told Nico that I’m courting him.”

She laughs. “There’s no accidentally in trying to romance someone, little brother—you either do or you don’t!”

“So far I have not,” Jason says. “I don’t think he likes me very much. But he hasn’t tried to kill me yet.”

Though—maybe eternity as a ghost down below was the equivalent to a commitment the Underworld. The logic feels sound.

“And how did he react?”

“He walked away very quickly.”

Thalia howls with laughter again, reminiscent to the wolves in the night. Jason can’t help but feel more self-conscious. He’s practiced his diplomacy with Athena and sparred with Ares—but this just isn’t an area that he’s familiar with.  

“Dad makes this kind of thing look easy,” he says, and the nervousness is already building in the pit of his stomach.

She clasps a hand on his shoulder sagely and shakes her head. “Courting and what Dad does are two very different things, little brother. You’re better off with the former.”

“Well, I haven’t made a very good impression so far.” Jason doesn’t think he’s achieved anything better than those first few moments of fascination in their first meeting. Even then—he’d hardly call that the beginning of a love story.

“Well,” Thalia—one of the only siblings Jason has who is in a happily committed relationship. “Let’s alleviate that.”

Jason’s eyebrows furrow together. “Alleviate how?”

Thalia tucks her fingers between the crevasse of the front of Jason’s robes.

“Um—?”

She rips them further open, down Jason’s torso.

He yelps. “I thought you said I was better off not doing what Dad does.”   

“What Dad does mostly involves this—” Thalia points below his golden belt. “I’m just making sure this—” She gestures emphatically. “Helps this.” Then she points to his chest. “Though, feel free to think with your cock if you would like.”

“Please stop gesturing to my cock.” Jason burns brightly and smooths out the front of his robes. “And talking about my cock.”

“Fine. I have no use for it anyway.” She shrugs. “One last touch, though.”

She raises her hands expectantly and Jason bows his head. Thalia gives his hair a quick ruffle.

“Perfect?” he asks, hopeful for her approval.

The corner of her lips etches into a smile.

“You,” Thalia corrects.

*

Jason generally rises before the sun. It’s the best way to avoid Apollo’s loud wake-up call—especially since his own chambers are north-facing. He’s early for most things. Early for his sparring matches with his siblings, early for diplomatic meetings with Hera—and probably far too early for his date with Nico.

Not a date, he reminds himself. An outing. Nico agreed to an outing. Persephone insisted it was a date. Jason bent to his sister’s will as he usually did. He thinks Nico folded for the same reasons.

Regardless—he stands outside the guest chambers—ready for this outing-not-date with the son of Hades. The day is already warm—Apollo must be nursing a hangover to be driving his chariot so close to the sky. Jason’s there long enough that the humidity makes him sweat. Or—maybe that’s nervous sweat.

Across the hall, Persephone’s door opens. Her hair is already knotted and tied together. Flowers decorate her hair and pad her shoulders. The skirt of her dress reminds Jason of flower petals. The exhausted look on her face betrays the effervescence of her gown.

“I hate it here,” Persephone grumbles. “The sun isn’t nearly as obnoxious in the Underworld.”

“I thought the Underworld was void of sunlight.”

“Exactly.” Persephone raises her head to the door. “Here to gather my stepson?”

“Yes—um—” Jason has no idea why he’s so flustered. “Is he awake yet?”

Persephone arches an eyebrow. “He hardly leaves his room unless I collect him.”

Before Jason can protest, she reaches over his head and gives the door a swift knock.

“Nico, darling,” she calls.

There’s a faint rustle and some mumbling. Then, a quiet—“Stepmother?”

“Jason’s here.” And with that, she turns her back.

Jason’s heart rate spikes. “Wait—”

Persephone turns around.

“Are you not staying?” Jason swallows hard.

The other eyebrow arches. “Well I’m not going out with you. Just go in.”

Jason hesitates for a moment more. Persephone has already announced his presence—so lurking any longer would only make him look weird. Well—weirder than Nico already thinks he is. With one more courteous knock, Jason calls, “Nico?”

“Come in,” the door answers quietly.

The guest room isn’t as spacious as Jason’s own chambers. Hera said the son of a King needed the best view of the heavens. In comparison, the guest room is smaller. More discreet. The curtains are drawn, welcoming sunlight only through opaque fabric. Jason spends a second taking in the room—he’s hardly on this side of his parents’ palace. The quiet calm of it makes every pleasant chirp of the birds and the winds more apparent. Lovelier.  Then he notices the silhouette in the bed.

Jason’s throat dries.

“Sorry,” Nico apologizes, his voice a soft tenor. “I fell asleep again.”

He pushes himself into a sitting position. Soft light hits his shoulder blades and slowly creeps across his olive-toned flesh. As he turns, it tapers down his bare chest, down his smooth abs, and paints down his…

Jason swallows, very hard.

“The heat up in Olympus,” Nico mutters—and Jason almost doesn’t notice the way dark bangs are matted to Nico’s face, or how the back of his hair juts out like a mountain range. “It’s sweltering. I can’t sleep most nights.”

Stop staring. He needs to stop staring. He needs to—say something. Jason doesn’t remember how to open his mouth. Words.

“…are you wearing…?”

Jason can’t remember how to hear full sentences, either. Open mouth. Make sounds. “Um…”

He moves to stare at his feet—but his eyes get stuck elsewhere. He stares. Probably too long. He needs to find his words again. And he thinks he notices something—movement, maybe—

Fortunately—Nico remembers how to make words and function—he reaches for a pillow behind him and covers himself. Jason learns in that moment that when Nico blushes, the red travels down his collarbone.

“I’ll be decent in ten minutes,” Nico says, “if you don’t mind waiting outside.”

Words are still hard. Jason gives a tense nod, turns around, and closes the door behind him.

*

When Nico emerges from his bedroom, he’s dressed in his black silk, the chiton stopping just short of mid-thigh. Garnets are in his ears and are the centerpiece of the broach pinned to his chest. There’s no kohl around his eyes this time—and his hair still looks in some sort of disarray, like he was hastily trying to get ready.

Ten minutes is enough for Jason’s words to finally catch up to him. “Um—I sleep bare, too.”

Nico flushes again, the sanguine in his cheeks lovelier than the gemstone shimmering in his ears. “Please don’t make this a thing.”

“Okay.”

*

Their rocky morning doesn’t lull. Jason learns why Nico is partial to trailing his stepmother most days and prefers wandering during the evenings: flowers wilt, like they did during their first meeting. The birds squawk and croon with disdain. Even some of the aurae raise their noses to the son of Hades as Jason and he pass by. As concerned as Jason is, Nico looks at it as nothing more than an annoying inconvenience.

“Hey, fella,” Jason warns—and he places himself between Nico and one of his father’s eagles. “Persephone is back at the palace. Why don’t you see if she brought some yummy worms with her?”

The eagle gives him a wary look, eyes darting in different directions, and then lifts off to find the Goddess of Spring.

“Wow,” Jason says as the eagle flies off.

Nico offers an apologetic sigh. “Animals fear death. They don’t welcome it, either.”

“You must be a pretty powerful demigod to invoke such fear.”

Jason almost doesn’t notice Nico stopping behind him. He thinks a bell around Nico’s neck would suit him. As he turns around, he notices Nico’s eyebrows knit together with confusion.

“Not very many people talk about death and sound impressed, son of Zeus,” Nico says.

Jason shrugs. “Persephone says it’s her favorite part about being a queen.”

“Sure, down in the Underworld,” Nico mutters, and they continue their strides. “Here on Olympus, I stick out like a plague.”

“Plagues would be my brother’s specialty,” Jason jokes. “I think you’re fine, Nico.”

There’s a semblance of something in Nico’s eyes—maybe fascination. It helps to ease them out of this morning’s prettiness—awkwardness—as Jason gestures to all of the things worth seeing in Olympus. They pass the pavilion where the Muses are singing. Some of them dance and gesture in their direction, and Jason watches as Nico makes a face.

“They sing whatever your taste in music is,” Jason explains. “Are you enjoying it?”

“Not particularly,” Nico mumbles—and they leave the Pavilion with haste.

They avoid the vine gardens—Nico doesn’t look enthused by the idea of sucking the life out of the various grapes and strawberries. He also decides against taking Nico to the pegasi stable—that might just be a recipe for disaster. Instead, Jason steers him towards Hephaestus’s forge.

“Nothing metal dies,” Jason reasons—and he thinks Nico looks amused by that fact. Maybe it’s the Underworld equivalent of water is wet.

He avoids a little fistpump as Nico admires all of the swords hanging on the walls, and various array of hunting knives. Before he gets too enthralled, Nico turns around with curious eyes. “Am I allowed to wander?”

“I wander all the time.” Jason smiles—though Nico only snorts at the comparison. “The cyclops are nice. Feel free to ask them any question.”

So, Nico wanders around the workshop curiously, his own hand tracing the gold-lined hilt of his sword. Sure enough, Hephaestus’s cyclops are happy for the sudden company. And—Nico speaks more words than Jason has heard in the last couple of weeks, asking about the different types of metals the cyclops’s work with, the melting point of each metal, the types of molds used—and so on.

Jason’s smile only gets wider with each question. Then, Nico catches him staring and gets flustered.

“Sorry,” Nico mutters. “My father’s helm was made by the cyclops and the hundred-handed ones. I don’t often get to see the process up close.”

“No way. I love looking at swords.” Jason grins.

“Hades boy already has a sword,” says one of the cyclops kindly. He points to the black hilt at Nico’s hip and pokes the hilt. “Stygian iron. Good craftsmanship. Needs lot of patience.”

“Stygian iron?” Jason echoes, and he stares down at Nico’s hip curiously. The sheath alone is elegantly lined with gold trim. “If you don’t go to forges very often, who made that for you?”

Nico looks shy as he moves, hands still covering his sword. “I made it.”

“Really?”

“Really.” Nico hesitates before unsheathing his sword. Jason is gobsmacked as he looks at it—a pure black blade, void of light even in the hot spring day. The shape is one that Jason isn’t familiar with. Yet—for the boy from the Underworld, the sword moves eloquently between his fingers.

It’s a beautiful touch to Nico’s ensemble—and deadly.

“Careful,” Nico warns. “it’ll suck your soul out.”

Jason laughs. Nico doesn’t.

“Oh,” Jason says. “Cool. How?”

“Patience,” Nico repeats—and the cyclops beams. He falls quiet for a moment, his expression less guarded since his arrival to Olympus and a little more boyish. “And my brother, Zagreus—he dangled the idea in front of my face like a carrot to a horse, then told me it was too dangerous. I like a challenge.”

“And swords,” Jason guesses.

“And swords,” Nico echoes—and the awkwardness feels further away. He looks far more comfortable surrounded by swords than traipsing around the rest of Olympus and getting odd looks.

Jason decides to forgo the rest of their itinerary and patiently stands beside Nico as the other demigod continues inquiring with the rest of Hephaestus’s workers. It’s hard to tell who is more eager—the cyclops showing off their weaponry, or Nico asking how they came up with the idea.

When Apollo slumbers for the night, Jason suggests they grab dinner. Under the evening sky, Nico looks far more comfortable. They retire near Hestia’s hearth, and she tasks Jason to watch the flames while she tends to an errand. There’s a brief pause as Nico looks up to their aunt with suspicious eyes. Jason gulps—but it ends in nothing.

“Your brother, Zagreus,” Jason says. “He’s my nephew, technically.” He pauses. “And my cousin, too.”

“Family trees don’t get any less confusing in death, unfortunately.” Nico snorts. He tears apart his bread and eats it slowly. His mouth purses for a moment. Crumbs stick to the corner of his lip. “I didn’t expect you and my stepmother to be so close. She always spends the last weeks of winter complaining about having to leave for Olympus.”

“Oh,” Jason reassures, “she spends all of spring and summer complaining, too.”

Nico grows quiet. “Still. Most people parrot Auntie Demeter. How my father kidnapped her daughter. With what I’ve learned about Olympus, I didn’t expect anyone to know the real story.”

Jason laughs. “Persephone has been telling me how dark and scary the Underworld is since I was small. She revels in it.”

“Believe me, no one is more aware than me,” Nico mutters—and there’s a fondness to the way he rolls his eyes. “Thank you for today. I’ll have to find the workshop again in the morning.”

“You’re welcome,” Jason says, and he breathes with relief. Then his cheeks burn. “If…you’re still having trouble sleeping, I can make a suggestion.”

“Oh?”

“My chambers. They’re north-facing. I wake up to Boraeas’s winds most mornings. The corridor right outside my room catches Apollo beautifully as he wakes from his slumber. It’s of the nicer things that I like about my home—why are you looking at me like that?”

Nico has been staring at him since mid-bite. His eyebrows are arched in the air, much warier than the boy Jason took on an outing.

“Your bedroom,” Nico reiterates slowly, “is what you find as one of the nicer things about your home?”

“I spend a great deal of time there,” Jason explains—though that answer is evidently worse.

“Do you now?” Nico asks. “Son of Zeus?”

“I—yes?” Jason’s eyebrows furrow together with confusion. “What are you implying?”

Nico shakes his head dismissively, though against the flames, his face is warm.

Aunt Hestia picks that moment to return from her errand. What greets her is the scene of one confused son of Zeus and one wary son of Hades. “Is there a problem, boys?”

Nico rubs his forehead. “No, Auntie Hestia. I should be off to bed now.”

He stands to his feet.

“Good night, Auntie.” Nico fumbles to meet Jason’s glance. “Good night, Son of Zeus.”

“Um,” Jason says. “Good night.”

Both aunt and nephew watch as Nico’s silhouette shrinks in the darkness.

“Courting going well, little Jason?” Hestia muses.

“Oh,” Jason starts, trying his best not to look disappointed. “No—I guess not.”

Though—really, Jason hasn’t the slightest idea of how to start courting.

*

Hazel comes to visit a couple of days after that. Jason’s tried to accompany Nico on other outings—but the son of Hades continues his routine of sleeping through the mornings and going out in the evenings. Jason’s on the opposite schedule.

For Hazel, however, Nico awakens. Next to her boyfriend, Frank, she’s small. The tips of her braids are lined with gold and garnet and she’s dressed in the same black fabric, the hems decorated with more eloquent jewels—even moreso than her brother. Jason’s in charge of bringing them down the corridor where the son of Hades is resting.

“I don’t want to make a show of it,” Nico had explained the night before—the first words intended for Jason in a week. He’d shifted uncomfortably between his feet. “There’s no reason to alarm Olympus that two children of the Underworld and their queen…”

“Nico, she visits all the time for Frank,” Jason reassured him with a smile. “I’ll make sure she’s brought straight to you. After Frank, of course.”

“Right,” Nico said, and he blushed a pretty hue. Jason had forgotten how nice it looked on the other demigod’s face. “I forgot she goes on these outings more than I do.”

It’s hard to pinpoint what exactly makes Hazel different from Nico. Jason thinks she’d be offended like Persephone if he said he didn’t associate her with the Underworld. She certainly wears the robes—pools black, rippling as though they contained the souls of the damned. Maybe it’s the way she smiles—looking young and her age in a way that reminded Jason of Nico in Hephaestus’s workshop. Less regal, more at peace.

“How has my brother enjoyed Olympus?” Hazel asks curiously.

“He finds pockets,” Jason says, and he pauses. “I catch him by Aunt Hestia’s hearth often. And in the evenings in Aunt Demeter’s garden with Persephone.”

“What is the Graceful Jason doing up late in the evenings?” Hazel laughs. Her gold jewelry chime as they walk down the corridors. She was guarded once, when they first met. Much like with her brother, Hazel was surprised by Persephone’s fondness of him.

Frank mimics her laugh. “Has it not made it down to the Underworld? Jason is courting Nico.”

The chimes stop. Hazel halts. “Excuse me?”

Jason trips. “Who told you that?”

“Uh—” Frank looks between the both of them, evidently regretting his choice of words. “The winds carry, your grace.”

Jason groans. Trust the aurae to carry on conversations when no one asked.

“So is it true?” Hazel asks, her voice filled with warning. There’s a chary way she speaks that mirrors her brother eerily well. “You’re courting my brother?”

“Well—yes. Maybe. I don’t know.” Jason smooths out one of the creases in his robes. Hera wouldn’t approve of the smudges in his sleeves. “I’m hot and cold with him.”

Hazel held such an excited look to see her brother after almost a month. Now she looks as wary as their first meeting.

“But if he’s truly not interested—I won’t pursue,” Jason says quickly, and his cheeks burn.

That seems to alleviate some of Hazel’s suspicion. In her jewel-toned eyes, there’s even a look of pity. “You might be fighting a losing battle, Jason.”

Oh. “Well, that’s not very uplifting.”

“Hard battles are fought with hard truths,” Frank advises sagely. And although he laughed at the notion of Jason courting, he laces a gentle hand around his girlfriend’s. “Though it never determines whether or not it’s a winning or a losing battle.”

“That’s also not very uplifting,” Jason concludes. “Are my chances better than with Piper?”

Hazel weighs this. “Better than with Piper. Still not very good.”

“Why not?” Jason stops their path.

Hazel looks hesitant. “That’s not my tale to tell, unfortunately, Jason. Just consider yourself warned.”

That, of course, doesn’t alleviate any of Jason’s worry. The way Hazel speaks reminds him so much of how Nico is comfortable one moment and on edge the second. Any mention of courting just doesn’t appeal to the son of Hades—which, maybe should have been Jason’s first sign. Maybe he should apologize for bringing it up. Then maybe they could resume quaint conversations and ease in one another’s company.

Though…Jason tries to stifle his disappointment. Fails. He really fancies the idea of holding hands with a beloved person, the same way Frank holds Hazel. Or Thalia with Reyna. Persephone, with Hades.

When they arrive, Jason hesitates to knock.

“This is his room, right?” Hazel asks.

“He might not be dressed yet,” Jason admits, and his cheeks blister with pink.

Hazel eyes him with the same wryness that’s accompanied Persephone. “Oh, please.”

Much like her stepmother, she raps a hand against the door.

“Nico—it’s—”

The door bursts open. Much like every other day since Nico’s arrival at Olympus, he’s in a delicately draped chiton, with a jewel-encrusted headpiece—but the most striking part about the pretty son of Hades is his pearly-white smile. His eyes light up, sparking like a flame to flint—and he’s closer to that boyish demigod than he is a noble of the Underworld. Jason’s heart skips a beat as he watches it.

Hazel’s golden eyes shimmer, and the two Underworld siblings bury themselves in a hug. Nico pushes hair out of Hazel’s face and presses a kiss to her forehead.

“I’ve missed you,” he whispers.

“You’re getting a tan,” Hazel teases.

“This happens a lot,” Frank reassures Jason.

They stay in their embrace a moment longer, just grinning. A thousand words are probably passing in one glance—Jason feels that way every time Thalia leaves for Themyscira and he awaits her return—or when the flowers bloom around Jason and he turns around to meet Persephone’s gaze. Part of him is envious that Nico is surrounded by his beloved siblings for more than a few days out of a month. More than a few months out of the year.

“So,” Hazel announces, “will you watch me race?”

The hippodrome always draws some sort of crowd—whether they’re sparring matches, Apollo’s soliloquies, or Dionysus’s wine-drinking contests, the aurae and local spirits always draw near for some sort of competition. Today? Chariot races.

“Are we too close to the ground? Will the horses freak out?” Jason asks—and Nico looks startled by the inquiry.

“I think we’re far enough away,” the other demigod admits. “But—thank you for your concern.”

“No problem.” Jason smiles.

“You’re not a participant?” Nico asks.

Jason laughs awkwardly. “The last time I was in one of these, I almost got stabbed through the heart. Hera smote someone.”

Nico shakes his head in disbelief. “What does Hera let you do?”

“Feed peacocks. Sit in on meetings. Be a proper host for our guests.” Jason stares at the portico below forlornly. “It’s best I don’t participate in these. They get violent. Last time, someone threw a shoe at my head.”

“Oh, gods,” Nico mutters, and there’s a flicker of amusement in his eyes.

Down beneath the portico, Hazel is easy to see. The way she dresses in golden armor makes her a sight to see, with a longsword close to her hip. Jason has to wonder if the Underworld siblings crafted that sword, too. For the smallest rider is the tallest steed—and for the fiercest horse is the most worried looking partner. They haven’t lined up to race yet, and Frank already looks green in the face. Most of the other horses are whinnying in fear—while Arion happily munches on gold bars like they were apples.

Arion is fearless, Hazel explained once. And mostly hangry.

“You didn’t tell me that Percy was competing.” Nico suddenly sounds more intrigued than before.

Sure enough, the only horse not cowering in fear is the son of Poseidon’s black, winged steed. “Percy always competes.”

“Oh,” Nico says, and his eyes suddenly go from watching his sister to Olympus’s Atlantean guest.

The announcements start. There’s a brief interlude where the centaur happily broadcasts Jason’s presence in his booth, and Jason stands to his feet to give the crowd a friendly wave. Then—the games begin.

Sure enough—they’re far enough away from the stables that the horses aren’t agitated by Nico’s presence. Eight of the ten chariots are still cowering in fear while Hazel bolts on the back of her chariot with her spatha drawn. Frank is behind her, panicked and trying to keep the chariot from tipping. There’s enough time for her to turn around and stick her tongue out at the losing teams.

The crowd erupts into cheers, evoking the same pearly-white grin on Nico’s face.

Nico stands up the moment Percy’s chariot breaks through the crowd of cowering horses.

“STOP DOING THAT!” Jason can practically hear Percy shout. Even from the stands, he can see the mischievous smirk on Percy’s face, Anaklusmos raised in the air. The horses answer his call, pedaling fast after Hazel’s large steed. Crafty Annabeth is at his right, shouting orders in Percy’s ear.

Arion laps them once, colliding through the forgotten chariot racers like exploding through a wall. Annabeth throws a spear between one of Frank and Hazel’s chariot wheels and it spins out of control.

“Nice,” Nico says—and it’s hard to root for one side. Jason just cheers anytime one of his friends does something clever.

Once the other horses gather their bearings, it turns into a better race—though no one can beat the momentum drawn by Hazel of the Underworld and Perseus of Atlantis. Frank is quick to de-spear their wheel and they charge straight after Percy and Annabeth. They work like a well-oiled machine, Hazel throwing the reigns over to her boyfriend to draw her sword.

“Careful,” Nico warns—clearly invested in the game. He even bobs when Hazel does—leaning into Jason as his sister dodges Anaklusmos. A tingling shoots up Jason’s spine and Nico flushes. “Um—sorry.”

“Not a problem,” Jason says, and his voice breaks—the scent of figs and citrus wafting into his nostrils.

“Percy,” Nico whispers with familiarity as Percy barks orders to his horses, holds the reigns, and relentlessly waves his sword around. “Think smarter, not harder.”

“You’re really into Percy, aren’t you?” Jason muses. He doesn’t miss the way Nico’s gaze darts to him before shrinking.

“Um. Yeah.”

Being into Percy doesn’t mean much—Jason realizes Nico’s fascination with swords extends here, too. Making them is one thing and seeing them in action is another. Frank is jostled about on top of the chariot, trying desperately to aim his arrows above unsteady ground. Annabeth and Percy switch fluidly, and Percy deflects with a shield. Though—deflecting and deflecting easily are two different concepts. The horses whinny so loud that Jason wonders if Arion and Blackjack are smacktalking, too.

There are three laps. Half the riders are out of commission. Every time Travis and Connor try to throw spears, the apex of their tosses fall meters short of Annabeth, Percy, Frank, and Hazel. They resort to looting from the fallen chariot riders instead. Clarisse erupts in a loud roar for everyone to hear except for the two teams in first and second place—and she settles for third as she bashes some skulls in.

There’s a moment, when Hazel and Percy lap the brash daughter of Ares, that Clarisse swings a mace towards them. Hazel ducks out of the way—and Frank gets impaled in the back of the helmet. Arion huffs, steady on his legs while their chariot spins—and instead of using that to their advantage, Annabeth and Percy exchange looks. Then—Hazel hops to the back of their chariot to swing her longsword towards Frank’s sister, while Annabeth lodges a spear at Clarisse’s wheels.

Clarisse spins out of control—losing momentum from trying to dodge Hazel’s sword and falling off balance due to her sputtering chariot—

“GO, HAZEL!” Nico shouts, and the vibrato of his voice is so loud next to Jason that the latter jumps. Nico’s not embarrassed this time—there’s a grin splitting across his lips, eyes lit up with absolute pride.

Jason thinks Hazel hears it, too—she jerks her head towards the audience, smiling, and lets out a high-pitched whistle.

Dust explodes like a storm cloud across the field. The audience coughs as dirt fills their lungs. Jason blows a counter gust to breathe cleanly. When the debris settles, Jason realizes Nico has leaned into him again to avoid the brunt of Arion’s trail.

“Thanks,” Nico says—but his eyes are glued to the finish line.

At the very end of the track, the victor is clear. Hazel and Frank throw their fists in the air, and the crowd erupts in cheers.

*

The day is filled with competitions. Jason and Nico watch the charioteers—but no race ever matched the momentum of Hazel and Percy. The crowd cheers every time one of them is announced the victor—and Nico is enraptured by the different array of weapons used across the battlefield.

One race results in a game of keepaway between Clarisse and Percy—where she grabs the banner over his chariot (a lovely turquoise, like Percy’s eyes, and a beautifully inked trident for his father’s domain.) She plays keepaway while Percy tries to recapture his flag.

In another instance, Hazel waves a hand, and all of the stolen metals and gold tucked in Travis and Connor’s robes fill the track instead. They stumble over rickety dirt and go sideways.

For all of his eloquence, Nico is enthralled by every match. There’s no scary air about Nico. Jason thinks he understands a little more—just because this boy is a son of Hades doesn’t mean there is any malice or cruelty in those eyes. They light up like any other person Jason knows, entranced by the charioteers.

At the end of the races, Nico stops short of the stables. He bites his lip. “I’ll wait here.”

“Why? Oh.” Jason grew so used to having Nico at his side that he forgot how much trouble the animals could be. “I’ll tell them to come out.”

“You don’t have to—”

“Nico! Jason! Hey!” Percy appears, with a bit of blood caked on his shoulder and a helmet tucked under his arm. He grins. “You guys enjoy the show?”

“Amazing as always.” Jason flashes a grin of his own and fistbumps his good friend. He laughs. “Was riding Chiron to get your banner back part of the plan?”

“Please. What’s a plan?” Percy ribs Jason good-naturedly.

“Don’t start with that,” Annabeth warns, and she appears out of nowhere. Despite glistening with sweat, she slings an arm around her boyfriend, blond curly hair matted to her face. She flashes both of them a smile that mirrors the son of Poseidon far too well. “I’m the only reason he hasn’t died yet.”

“And we’re all better for it,” Jason jests. He smiles at the happy couple.

“Did you enjoy the show, Ambassador?” Percy arches an eyebrow at Nico.

There’s a terseness to the way Nico smiles. It reminds Jason of that first meeting. For all of the cheering and boundless glee that was on Nico’s face as they watched the chariot races, Nico is back to his quiet, reserved self. His eyes are the most reactive as he takes Percy in, and he smiles just as politely as before.

“Percy’s good at improvising,” he says finally, and it’s much tamer than the way he cheered in the stands. “But Annabeth keeps his head screwed on straight.”

“Gee, Nico, you sure know how to pile on the compliments.” Percy laughs, but Nico doesn’t join him.

“Glad to know who’s your favorite, Nico.” Annabeth grins, ribbing her boyfriend again, and there’s a similar sense of familiarity to her voice as there is Percy’s.

Nico’s smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Not until Hazel and Frank appear. She throws her arms around him, grinning.

“Good job beating the Olympians at their own game, sis,” Nico says. “Stepmother would be proud.”

“She’s been known to throw tomatoes at the referee,” Hazel jokes.

“She hit me once,” Jason mutters, and he rubs his forehead. “I don’t think they were ready to harvest yet, either.”

Nico snorts. “That sounds like stepmother.”

“Glad to be of entertainment for your date,” Percy suddenly says—and both Jason and Nico freeze.

“Date?” Jason echoes.

“Things must be going well if Nico agreed to an outing with you,” Annabeth says. She smiles fondly at both of them. “A second one, at that.”

Jason freezes up. He glances very cautiously to Nico, whose arms are still wrapped around his sister. There’s a frown across Nico’s face, nose scrunching with a familiar exasperation. He arches one ebony eyebrow at Jason.

“Oh—this…wasn’t a date,” Jason starts, and he shifts uncomfortably between his toes. “Hazel wanted Nico to watch her race.”

That evokes a look of confusion from the happy couple. Percy blinks. “But it’s all over Olympus that you’re courting Nico.”

“It is?” Jason asks.

“All over Olympus?” Nico repeats.

“Percy,” Hazel warns, “quit while you’re ahead.”

“What—but why?” Percy’s eyebrows knit together with confusion. He turns to Nico. “Jason’s a stellar guy, Nico—you’ll never meet anyone as cool as him.”

“I think Nico can form his own opinion of me, Percy.” Jason flushes red.

As much as he tries to dismiss the subject, Percy insists. “Well—you’re way better for him, especially after W—”

“Nico can speak for himself,” Nico scolds—and Jason jumps at the intensity of his tone. Nico is dark in the face. There’s a brief instance of a scowl across his jaw—then Nico closes his eyes. There’s a breath. Two breaths. Then, “Hazel, let me accompany you back to the Underworld.”

Panic suddenly spikes in Jason’s chest. “But spring isn’t over. And summer has hardly started—”

Nico glowers at him, but it reduces to a tired simmer. There’s a red flush to his cheeks, rising in intensity as though he’s about to say something—but it stops short before it can reach his mouth. “I will be back in the morning, son of Zeus. But it’s been too long since I’ve seen my sister. I’m sure you can agree with that.”

Jason clamps his mouth shut, his eyebrows furrowing together.

“I hope you don’t mind the company, Frank,” Nico says, and he turns to the other happy couple.

“Oh,” Frank says, evidently trying not to look disappointed,  “Um—no. Of course not.”

Jason isn’t quite sure what’s in Hazel’s eyes—she looks a little annoyed, though it’s hard to tell if it’s directed at him or her brother.

“Sure, Nico.” She turns to Percy and Annabeth—and the latter sports a cleverer look than her boyfriend. “Another time then, Percy. Annabeth.”

With that—Nico makes a hasty retreat with Hazel and Frank to follow.

Annabeth sighs. “Seaweed Brain…”

“What?” Percy asks, genuinely as confused as Jason feels. “The winds talk!”

Unfortunately—this isn’t the first time Jason has been left by the other demigod. After such a fun day watching races with not the slightest bit of awkward tension between them—Jason thinks he knows what he needs to do.

He bolts right after Nico.

*

“Nico, wait—”

“I have nothing to say to you,” Nico retorts. Somehow, as short as he is, he’s able to make long strides. With the high of competition over, the crowds split as two Underworld children pass by.

“But—it’s about—it’s this courting thing,” Jason says—and while the crowds avoid Nico, they certainly drink in every word that comes out of Jason’s mouth.

Nico groans—both Hazel and Frank offering looks of pity. There’s no encouragement here—the son of Hades is evidently very intent on getting off Olympus. The biggest obstacle is Nico’s need for escape, while Jason is still trying to sort out the proper things in his head. Usually, with chariot races, the charioteers had to watch out for other teams. Jason thinks he keeps breaking his own wheels.

“I just—I don’t want you to get the wrong idea,” Jason says—and he’s suddenly wondering where the skill of being able to walk and talk have gone. He’s usually so good at it, matching witty banter with Percy whenever the son of Poseidon visits—but Nico isn’t a sparring match. “When I said that I was courting you, I—I was so enticed by how pretty you were, I couldn’t help myself.”

Nico stops so abruptly that Frank, Hazel, and Jason almost run into him. He whirls around, confused. There’s red glowing his cheeks. He exclaims, horrified, “You couldn’t help yourself?”

“Dude,” Frank says—and Jason glows pink.

Even at a stop, Jason’s mind doesn’t quite catch up with him. “Um. Yes?”

Hazel sighs with exasperation—and this time, the look is absolutely aimed towards Jason.

“I apologize, if I’ve been forward with you—”

“You have,” Nico interrupts. He looks like he’s trying his best to contain the rest of his fluster—and Jason feels bad for being the cause of it. “This corralling—with people I don’t know watching, and people I do know gossiping about it—I don’t appreciate it.”

The resolve dies on Jason’s tongue. He’s not really sure what to say to that. Truthfully, his life has been a spectacle since Hera decided to take a mortal bastard of her husband’s as her ward. “I’m—I’m sorry, Nico. I don’t want to be the reason you don’t come to Olympus again.”

An apology evidently isn’t something that Nico expects. His face burns red, adorning his cheekbones so delicately as though it’s another piece of jewelry hanging against his pale skin. “I just need space, Jason.”

Jason opens his mouth to speak. Closes it. As of late, he hasn’t had much luck using it.

As Nico turns around, Jason jerks forward—then Nico whirls around again. He gestures in front of him—to the edge of the mountainside of Olympus.

“You won’t follow,” Nico says sharply.

Then—to Jason’s surprise, the two children of the Underworld and the son of Ares melt into the evening’s shadow. He gasps—the gesture so unfamiliar to him—and notices three figures at the bottom of the mountain. One of them turns around to stare back up—and they slink into the shadows once again.

Never, in Jason’s life, has he ever left Olympus. Hera has never let him.

But, he swallows hard. Never, has he felt as drawn to a boy as he has Nico of the Underworld.

Jason lets the winds gather at his feet—and then he dives.