The Ambassador of the Gods

Bonus: A New Year

Author's Note: This was originally written for the start of 2023, to be published between Chapter 10 and 11 and titled 'Lead-Up to Season 2: A New Year'. It wasn't finished in time, but here it is now for 2024. Enjoy!

-- 20th January 2009 --

One of Nico's best repeating safehouses was a log cabin half a dozen or so miles into Pennsylvania from the New York river border.

The owning family of the little house only used it as a summer home, as far as he could tell from the stockpile of fishing, hiking and hunting gear in the back, but the cabin was built for winter; insulation and fireplace and everything. So, here he was, trudging out of the quiet lonely snow and onto the porch, shedding ice on the creaky steps.

Nico put his shoulder against the door and broke the frost. Inside, as it had been the few other times he'd used the base this winter, the place was a long time empty. There was some dust on the sparse furniture, and a corner by the kitchen where snow and forest debris had blown in through a window with a broken latch.

The cabin's layout was simple -- a large central room with a fireplace, a table, a corner of kitchen counters, and two doors: one bedroom, one storeroom.

Today, Nico had come from Manhattan (or more accurately, Central Park), and shadow-travelled twice: once directionally northwest to a town called Chester, then again from a couple towns North of that to the river border. The snowfall in this area was less forgiving than around Manhattan, a fact he had tragically only remembered upon being faced with the hike up from the river.

Nico set his backpack down by the door. He brushed off a section of the floor beside it and sat down. His legs were still stiff from earlier in the month, and it bothered him a little even as he huddled up against the cold. Still, he was grateful for the rest. He pushed his hood back and leaned his head against the wall. Sleep tugged down on his eyelids.

But Nico shook himself awake before it could take him. He got up. He had to gather wood for a fire. It was a bitterly bright afternoon: the sunlight made him sleepy, but he made it back inside -- with more snow in his boots than ever, and winter testing the limits of his resistance to cold, but safely inside. The walls of the cabin muffled even the quiet outside.

He hung a pail of fresh snow over his newly-made fire to melt, and retrieved one of the foil-wrapped sandwiches he'd purchased back in the city to nestle by the coals.

Nico took off his gloves and allowed himself another couple minutes of rest, warming his hands by the quiet fire, alone in a someone else's slumbering vacation house, surrounded by miles of silent forest.

It was the new year.

When his food was warm, Nico unwrapped the foil with his fingertips and took a couple bites just sitting in front of the fire, of herb-baked bread stacked high with greens and meat. His New Year's dinner, courtesy of Daedalus's advice.

He had to put a glove back on to keep from burning his hand, but got a broom out of store and began to sweep the floor of the living room one-handed as he ate. The bedroom had no fireplace, but it did have plenty of mattresses he could drag out to sleep by the fire on. Besides, it was the least he could do in return for the shelter.

Nico gave up halfway through the sandwich. He wrapped it back up for later and returned the broom to the storeroom, feeling more tired than ever. He spent a couple bleary minutes fiddling with the broken window clasp. In the end, he just stuffed some old rags in to stop the wind from blowing in.

His pail of water had boiled and cooled back down to a bearable temperature that Nico could wet a cloth in and wipe himself down in lieu of a bath. He'd had a real bath before heading out of the city, so it wasn't his biggest concern yet. He had a couple travel days ahead of him as well, stops in warmer states where the rivers wouldn't freeze him to death.

Nico changed into a new set of nearly identical clothes, and washed his used ones in the remaining water.

Finally he lay down on the springy mattress, bone tired, his coat folded up under his head and washing hung by the fire to dry. Daedalus had implored him to stretch his injuries, whether or not he appeared to be healed, but the weight taken off Nico's feet and the gentle warmth of the fire had erased the last of his willpower to even sit back up.

But Nico lay there, his eyes aching to close, and didn't fall asleep.

His mind ticked away on a hazy loop, busy and going nowhere. He had only realised it was the new year a few days ago, upon emerging from the Underworld. The last time he had even thought about it had been Christmas Day.

Nico gazed at the wood panel ceiling above him, sealed and nailed and dark.

He couldn't help but think about Bob, who held no grudges -- and Lady Hestia, or just Hestia, who never made them. About trying, like a resolution, to convince himself that any house with fire and food was home.

Even though the goddess herself could not agree. Even though this time last year, he'd been sitting across a fire from a ghostly king, with heavier rage in his heart hotter than the flames. And the year before that in the dark school with only one thing in his life to feel grateful for.

Even though Bianca was not dead, just gone, this year. Even though he could not even hope that giving the rest of the entire world might bring her back. And he would never go home again.

Nico closed his eyes, trying to sleep.

It was the new year. And so he had to remain resolute, for just a little while longer.