A Never Ending Story

Children of the Underworld

This story is strictly a one shot.

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Rick Riordan, although I wish I could use an Obliviate charm on the entire world and steal them.

____________

Search around, look at what you see,
In her face, the mirror of your dreams,
_______________
Dawn had barely set in, the first rays of the sun caressed the sky in a brilliant yellow glow. The crisp cold September wind blew through the cemetery Nico DiAngelo had taken shelter in. He was fast asleep, a tombstone, supporting his thin frame. He clutched a black trenchcoat around him for warmth. The wind gently carried a dried scrunched up leaf,which drifted for a while as if unable to decide which way to go, then swirled right into Nico's face. He woke up in a jolt.
"W-what in the-!" He sputtered as he ripped the leaf off his face. He was up in an instant, his Stygian sword in his hand ready for a fight. The tension in his shoulders drained like water down a plughole when he realised that he was in no imminent danger.
He stretched like a lanky cat, put on his coat, ran a hand through his hair, and collected his thoughts. It had to be around six the morning.
He took a deep breath his body quivering in anticipation

Today was the day.

He closed his eyes praying to his Dad, who was also the king of the underworld. He needed all the blessings he could get. He knew he probably shouldn't be feeling this excited. Anything could go wrong, but today of all the days he couldn't bring himself to think of failure.
His heart fluttered and his stomach performed cartwheels. There was no way he would be able to keep his breakfast down, so he decided to pass.
He shouldn't have been getting his hopes up.
The Fates had always been cruel to him.
And with that Nico DiAngelo, the Ghost King disappeared in a wisp of smoke.
____________

He found himself standing in Central Park staring at the Door of Orpheus.
'The dude with the harp' Nico sniggered at his recollection.
The memory of him standing here, in the exact same spot with Percy Jackson during the War with Kronos, hit him straight in the gut. That had been before things had gotten sour. He had cheated Percy into meeting his dad in exchange for information. Information about his past. He had gone through with his discrete plan, accomplishing nothing but his mother's name and the son of Poseidon's imprisonment. No doubt he had gotten Percy out (had risked getting nearly speared by Riptide in the process) , helped him bathe in the River Styx, and summoned an entire horde of undead warriors to change the tide of the war along with the Lord of the Dead, his father at his side.
He had made up for his mistake but nonetheless something had broken between them. Percy would never trust him the same way again.
It hadn't been the outcome Nico had hoped for.

After the war, after Hades had been accepted on Olympus, after everything was over Nico had decided to give camp a shot. But as the weeks passed by his welcome wore short. No longer was he the valiant hero who had taken the war by a storm. He was just the creepy son of Hades once again. Even if he portrayed a tough exterior on the outsider, he would be lying if he said the hostile glances didn't bother him. It hadnt helped that Annabeth and Percy had started dating right after the war.
He stood in the shadows as he watched a horde of cheery campers,led by Clarisse, dunk a laughing Percy and Annabeth into the lake. He had felt a dull throb of longing. He didn't ever think loving someone would be this painful. He closed his eyes and melted into the darkness once again.
_____________________
Make believe I'm everywhere, hidden in the lines
_____________________

Today was the day.

Death could not be contained anymore.

He took a deep breath and broke into an Italian lullaby Bianca used to sing to him when they were young. He had always felt warm and protected when Bianca sang to him in a clear strong voice with him humming along with her.
He had never sung this song after he had lost Bianca. His voice alone had never succeeded in being a comfort.
It only reminded him of who he was, and what he had lost.
Not that he was that bad of a singer, his own voice strong and clear, much like his sister's.
The rock opened up to his song.
"I'm coming for you Bianca." He whispered before slipping into the realm of the dead.
___________________