(Nico di) Angelo angst-(one)shots

Why not me?

There was something to be said about being one of the seven. In some ways it was an almost sure one way to your death, prophecies were never kind, however it would be heroic. Perhaps someone on the outside, someone who didn't know what it was like, someone who didn't see how much you lost , would wish to be chosen, would wish to save the world or die a hero.

He didn't.

He was not one of the seven, he was not a chosen one, he was not wanted , but he had accompanied them on their quests. He had helped them stay alive, had completed things they never would've been able to do on their own, he had saved them. And yet...

He had seen their pain, had witnessed their loss and felt the death that followed them like dogs to an owner. Being a part of a -or in this case the - prophecy was a curse, not a blessing.

So, in the dead of night -his favorite time-, he would let his thoughts free, to roam the silence and fill the world with his regret. There was a singular question he always wished he could answer, if he had not been chosen for the prophecy, why must he suffer so much?

Why did he have to feel the same pain they did but never get something in return? Don't get him wrong, he did not wish to be known as a hero , to be the center of attention of constantly praised and loved, he shuddered at the thought, no he didn't want that.

He wanted people to know, to know the truth behind the story, to finally acknowledge everything he had sacrificed and fucking care . Because here he sat, darkness encompassing him as he watched, watched as they celebrated their success, celebrated their power and celebrated their love .

There were few shadows as they lit up the dining pavilion in a bright glow, but he still could grapple their strength to listen. He knew, despite what most would think they did not even notice his absence. There were four empty chairs at the table of the seven, but none were for him. One for Jason, one for Frank, one for Hazel and one for Reyna. It did not matter that she was not part of the seven, they still welcomed her at their table all the same.

In any case, he knew even if he were to shadow warp to the Roman camp he would find the same, for empty seats at their own celebration. It was to be said that only the most powerful of the age were part of the seven, it did not matter what he did, he would never achieve that level of recognition. They didn't care, how much he trained, how much he fought and killed, how much he sacrificed , he would never be one of them.

He had survived worse things than all of them combined, from being the first to go through Tartarus to being trapped in a jar to carrying a statue across a huge ocean, he was not strong enough.

Jealousy curled in his gut as he stared at his half sisters empty chair, once more he would like to clarify that no, he did not want to be part of the seven, but the envy that sunk its teeth into him whenever he saw her with them was too painful to bare without looking away ashamed.

Guilt would burn in his gut as he'd tear his eyes away from her joy, he couldn't -and wouldn't- ever blame her, she had taken his advice and used it, grabbed her second chance and twisted it to make it her own. Something he'd never been or be able to do.

Perhaps he was jealous of her because of that, because despite everything she'd been able to move forward, take control of her life and turn it around, move past the grief (even if she sometimes fell back into its clutches).

Whenever he thought about it an ugly feeling would burn in his gut, craving destruction, to take what he would never gain, yet he continued to push it down. It was not her fault -or any of theirs for that matter- and he would not ruin something they'd all sought for so long (even if he'd looked far longer).

It was bad enough with his crush (though he swore it no longer existed) on Percy -who had a literal girlfriend - because he'd sworn, of the many bad things he'd done and horrible acts he'd committed, he would never come between him and Annabeth. He was not a home wrecker and it didn't matter how badly it all hurt, or how much he craved for that affection, he wouldn't destroy something that was fated to thrive.

(He'd seen their strings of fate, read their futures, and knew they were meant to be together.)

With a final glance at the burning fire and celebrations he dissolved into the shadows, leaving an aching hole behind in the chests of everyone else even if they would never know what caused it.

When he stepped out of his void he was standing on the top of his cabin, the aura it had a strange sense of familiarity and home (even if it was a testament to his solidarity and loneliness. Though perhaps that was just even more of a reason) that he welcomed quietly.

The roof was cold, a chill seeping into his skin that even his clothes couldn't keep out. Distantly, he wished he had a cigarette.

The celebration was great, a nice sense of tranquility (well- sort of. They were at a party after all...) that hadn't been present in far too long that wrapped around them like a comfortable blanket for them to sink into. And yet...it wasn't until many hours later that he felt something off, as though they were missing something before.

"Hey seaweed brain, you good?" Percy nodded absentmindedly, running through a mental list of what wasn't with them or there at that moment. Obviously those who died (rest in peace) and those at the Roman camp but...there was something else.

"Do you feel like...like we're forgetting something?" Annabeth tilted her head, looking at him confused before he rushed to explain.

"I mean like, there's something that isn't...I don't know, that isn't here? Or with us? Or...agh I don't know how to explain it..." with a soft smile she put a hand on his shoulder, patting it as she turned back towards everyone else.

"I think you're just tired, why don't you eat a little and then we can leave and go to bed?" He nodded and looked down at his plate with a sigh, maybe he was just tired, saving the world (gods/Olympus) more than once wasn't an easy task.

In the back of his mind he couldn't shake the feeling they really were forgetting something as he began to poke at his food.

Vaguely, in the back of his mind, he realized the shadows felt far colder than before. 

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Sorry it took so long but I was bouncing between a bunch of different fics so take this is the meantime while I hopefully finish the others