Rise of the Sun ( a Will Solace fanfic)

Chapter 2: Brotherly Conversation

Michael sighed, feeling the weight of his brother’s trembling form against him, and patted his back gently. "I think I told you before—crying isn’t going to solve anything for us demigods with messed-up lives. It's  part of the job description. We can only look forward." He pulled back slightly, giving Will a small, lopsided smile. "Here, drink this water, my little doctor."

He reached over to the bedside table and handed a glass of water to Will, who took it with shaky hands and drained it in a few gulps, the cool liquid soothing his parched throat.

Michael plopped down on his own bed, looking at Will with a raised eyebrow. "So, what’s wrong this time? Bad dream, huh?" he asked, his voice and expression casual despite the clear concern in his blue eyes.

Will nodded, wiping at his tear-stained cheeks. "Yes," he choked out. "I... I had a nightmare. I dreamt of Lee in Elysium. You and I... we were both there to meet him."

Michael listened patiently as Will recounted the vision, nodding along until he finished. But to Will’s annoyance, his brother let out a light chuckle and reached over to ruffle his hair, his usual smirk returning.

"Why are you laughing?" Will demanded, looking up at him with wide, teary eyes. "It was terrifying! I saw both of you fade into the afterlife."

Michael waved a hand dismissively, still grinning. "Morpheus has a fucking bone with pick with demigods hence we get nightamres like those randomly. I think you should’ve learned that by now," he teased.

Micheal shifted, crossing his arms behind his head as he leaned back on his bed, the faint moonlight catching on his dark skin. "Look, if it had been some informative vision—like, I don’t know, what's happening to the gods right now, or some new threat brewing—I’d take it seriously. But me fading away in Elysium like some wise old guy giving advice?" He snorted. "Come on, Will, that’s not me at all. If there isn’t some coolness or swagger intertwined, you know it can’t be legit."

Will couldn’t help but crack a small smile through his lingering tears. Despite the nightmare’s grip on his heart, Michael’s cool attitude felt like an anchor, pulling him back to reality. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to start steadying his breathing, the fear slowly loosening its hold on him.

Then he heard it.

"I know you love sleeping naked sometimes William Andrew Solace but atleast cover yourself while you do. It is not flattering to be flashed by my own brother at the middle of the night."

Will looked down and turned beet red and pulled the covers till his waist with a yelp

"It is hot today," he cried. " Stop laughing. How did you even see that in the dark?"

“Archer's eyes baby brother. I’ll turn on the cooler,” Michael said, getting up to press the switch on the white machine in the corner. A soft hum filled the room as cool air began to flow. “I got ice from the camp store and put it in while you were sleeping, so it should cool down soon.”

He then flopped back down onto his bed, adjusting the pillow behind his head. Will lay down too, the cool air beginning to ease some of the lingering heat.

"So," he started, turning his head slightly to look at Micheal, “what were you doing out of our room so late?”

Micheal hesitated, not answering right away. He stared at the ceiling, shadows dancing across it as the moonlight shifted outside.

“Me and the other counselors finally decided to perform the last rites for big guy Beckendorf.”

Will felt a pang at the mention of the name. Charles Beckendorf, the previous Hephaestus cabin counselor, had died in the battle against Princess Andromeda, blowing himself up along with the ship. His death had been a massive blow to the camp, especially Aphrodite cabin counselor Silena, who allegedly was dating him secretly. She had been inconsolable on the day she learnt of his death. Charles was known for being kind and caring, a big brother figure to many.

Will remembered how, when he first arrived at camp at nine years old, Beckendorf’s height and serious demeanor had made him nervous. But that impression had quickly changed—Beckendorf had easily won him over with empathy and patience, even showing him how to handle tools and cheering him up when homesickness hit.

Michael’s voice drew him back. “Still no sign of either Percy or the ghostly son of Hades, so we had to do it without them,” he scoffed, irritation creeping into his tone. “Seriously, must that ass Percy run off on quests without taking me every time? I thought we were homies. I’ll never understand what goes on in that seaweed brain of his. He is so getting it when he returns. Annabeth also lowkey shares the sentiment.”

Will sighed quietly, understanding Michael’s frustration. Perseus Jackson, son of Poseidon, was practically a living legend at Camp Half-Blood. He’d led and survived countless dangerous quests, saved the world more than once, and was revered by almost everyone at camp, not just for his achievements but for being a child of one of the Big Three. Now allegedly it was a mass belief at camp that he will be the one to fulfill the great prophecy.

Will, on the other hand, could never imagine doing anything like that. He was secretly terrified of fighting, of facing the monsters that haunted their world. His combat skills were passable at best, but he always felt useless in battles. Being a healer, a dedicated field medic, was how he found his place, a way to contribute that didn't involve wielding a sword. He'd accepted that, but moments like this—seeing how easily Percy threw himself into danger—still made him feel like he was falling short of what was expected of a demigod.

He rolled onto his side, facing away from Michael to hide the complicated expression that crossed his face. “I get it, you know,” he muttered. “Why Percy does what he does. He’s got that whole... hero thing going. He got both power and the courage necessary.”

Michael scoffed," Yeah right. Don't you turn into his blind loyalist now. My archery skills are subpar to no camper. I have found ways to incorporate sound into it too. Let Kronos and his monsters come I will whoop them good and make them run before Percy even raising a finger." 

Then Michael’s voice dropped to a somber tone, his usual bravado giving way to a hint of vulnerability. “You know,” he murmured gloomily, “there’s something I’ve been thinking about a lot, with the looming threat of Kronos and the fact that less than half of the camp has taken his side. What does duty really mean to be a demigod?”

Will blinked, surprised by the shift in Michael’s tone. He turned his head to look at his brother, and what he saw made his breath catch. Michael, the hotheaded, ever-confident leader of Cabin 7, looked like he was on the verge of tears. Will couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Michael so close to breaking down. It felt like seeing the sky fall.

“Are you... crying?” he gasped, unable to hide the shock in his voice.

Michael scoffed immediately, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. “No, I got sand in my eyes or something,” he snapped defensively, though his voice wavered. " Ignore it or you are getting a bonk."

But despite the sharpness of his words, Will could see through the cracks in his tough exterior. Michael’s confusion, his fear, even his anger—it was all there, spilling out despite his best efforts to keep it under wraps. And it was enough to make Will realize just how much the weight of everything going on was affecting him too.