Chapter Text
fate
/fāt/
noun
The development of events beyond a person's control, regarded as determined by a supernatural power.
The interesting thing about time is its consistency.
Lives are a composite made up of moments – tiny, seemingly insignificant events that pile up, one on top of another, until they’ve formed the shape of a human. Time is pliable, in a constant state of flux. One decision, one factor, is enough to tip the balance. If the music wasn’t too loud. If the girl hadn’t been cheating. If the apartments didn’t share a wall. If Olympus University didn’t offer a great pre-med program as well as have a reputation for churning out classical scholars by the busload.
If philosophy was an easier class. If the professor was less strict.
If the car hadn’t run a red light.
Do you see? Time depends, above all things, on us. And that is why Nico di Angelo did not believe in fate.
The composite of moments that made up Nico’s life didn’t feel orchestrated. It wasn’t organized or neat. In fact, if you asked him, Nico would probably say that if there really was some higher power up there pulling the strings, they must’ve been pretty damn sadistic.
There was nothing particularly particular about the choices Nico made that led him to Will Solace. His father wanted him to stay in Seattle and go to school near home, so he’d hopped a plane to New York and never looked back. He chose to study Latin and Greek because that was what he was good at, what he liked, and it seemed to follow logically. He moved to off-campus housing with his roommate of two years, Leo Valdez, because that was what people did their junior year. Easy, quiet, painless choices.
They changed things, though. Of course they did.
(There it is again, the interesting thing about time: every choice does.)