Solangelo Oneshots

Ready To Let Go

He crouched in the bushes, obsidian eyes glinting in the growing blush of dawn. Hair as dark as the cloak made of the night that he wore brushed his forehead so tenderly and curled around his ears, which were alert and overly aware of the slightest of sounds. With curled nails like claws, his fingertips grazed the bushes to pull them back a little so he might see better.

As the dawn awoke, on time as always, the door opened. There was a hitch in the watcher's breath when he saw him. There was that boy whose curls were spun of sunlight, whose cheeks were dusted with stars and whose eyes were pools drained from the sky.

Will.

His smile held hope of a thousand innocents. He less walked as more drifted, gliding around his precious garden and tending to each and every plant. Those gentle fingers caressed each leaf and petal and such sorrow was in his eyes at any ailing plants that the watcher could not help but feel a pang in his heart at the sight. It was quickly mended by the joy and love as gold spilled from Will’s fingertips and healed all snapped branches or wiltering flowers.

The dawn would soon be over and day would be properly introduced. The watcher had work to attend to, although he so much preferred his present occupation. He let himself linger for seconds longer but leaving was inevitable. A kiss blown on the wind and he disappeared into the shadows.

Cloak billowing behind him, he stormed into his palace, skeletons and ghosts alike quivering in his wake. He'd hoped to pass through to his chambers and retire to his paperwork but of course he could not.

It was Hazel he nearly knocked over on his determined path and, though he would not admit it, his weakness was her. His sister was firey with eyes of gold, skin like melted chocolate and hair the colour of cinammon. She carried herself with an air of power suited for a princess of the dead and wore elegant dresses sewn from stardust.

"Brother."

Her voice was as soft and smooth as honey but the sting of the bee was in her undertone.

"Where were you, Nico?" she asked quietly. Her tone never raised in the years since the watcher had known her but he knew her well enough to understand she was dangerous.

"Business. It does not concern you," Nico responded. He winced at her scowl, knowing the moment the words slipped from a tongue loosened with love that they were not the right thing to say.

Her brow furrowed and Nico knew as she drew in a deep breath what she was doing but dared not escape to the safety of his chambers for that would bring far worse punishment.

Her eyes snapped open.

"The land of the living," she stated. It was not a question but a fact and Nico cursed himself for not leaving a change of clothing somewhere outside the palace. He could not shadow-travel to inside palace walls and his clothes stenched of life.

Hazel's expression had shifted from anger to curiosity and that was a hundred times worse.

"What business have you there? Thanatos collects the dead and the lost souls."

She took another deep breath. Nico shifted uncomfortablly.

"A deity. I smell the power. There's a hint of ichor. You pricked yourself on a bush."

Without asking for permission, she grasped Nico’s hand and inspected the finger he pricked and the dirt lining his nails.

"Father would not be pleased if he knew," she said plainly. Nico retracted his hand.

"Then he will not find out."

"This is dangerous, brother. Who are you there for? Not the sun boy?"

Nico’s averted gaze told Hazel all she needed to go and her gasp was a mix of amusement, disbelief and disapproval.