A Valhalla Disaster.

I'm alive!

A Valhalla Disaster

Disclaimer - All rights go to Rick Riordan; I own nothing but the plot.

Previously -

Somewhere off to my right, there's a scream.

It seems familiar, yet foreign and distant. They sound shocked, not scared, perhaps surprised or confused. I don't have the time to ponder on this before my legs tremble and I stumble forward, quickly deciding that whatever Odin had done to send us back was not good for me. I struggle to keep my insides inside, instead of outside and on the dusty floor. I lean against the bunk in cabin three, trying to regain my bearings and figure exactly what was happening. My head spins, my stomach churning. A few minutes pass, and my stomach settles, my vision going to normal again. I turn my head to see who had released the scream - or better yet, who had decided they could come into my cabin.

Nico.

Dressed in his general black clothes, aviators jacket, Stygian sword attached to his studded belt, and boots, Nico Di Angelo stood, quite shocked, next to the water fountain at the end of my bed. His pale skin stands out against the black of his clothes. He's not smiling, but this doesn't bother me, seeing as the teen boy hardly smiled anymore.

"Hi." I say.

He doesn't speak, confusion showing in his generally blank face.

"Hi." I repeat.

"I knew it." The words are muttered, so softly I nearly didn't catch them being spoken.

I frown. "Knew what?"

"You weren't dead." Nico says, louder this time. "I felt your life force leave, but you didn't seem . . . Completely dead. I went down to the underworld, but Father said you weren't there. I tried summoning your spirit, but that didn't work either. You weren't dead, I knew, but I didn't tell anyone - it was no use getting their hopes up." Nico moves his hands a bit as he talks. "Where were you?"

I know I should tell him. Zeus won't incinerate me, will he? I mean, the Norse know about the Greek and Romans now . . . So . . . And Nico knew about the Roamns before the rest of us, so he might already know about the Norse. 

 "I - well -"

Nico raises one dark eyebrow.

I'm just gonna tell him. Zeus, don't kill me.

"Valhalla." I blurt. "Hall of the honoured dead."

"Hall of the honoured dead? The fuck is that?"

"It's Norse, Nico. The Norse gods are still out there as well. Same story as the Romans. The gods didn't want us to cross paths, didn't want us to know about each other. But, really, I shouldn't be surprised. I mean, if there's Greek, Roman, and Egyptian, already, why not Norse? Why not Aztec?"

"Right." Nico mutters. "Of course. Since you're you, and you have the worst luck out of everyone, of course you get chosen for a Norse afterlife."

"Hey!" I'm indignant. Surely I don't have the worst luck. It is pretty bad, sure, but surely not the worst. "It wasn't only me! Annabeth, Piper, and Jason got chosen too!"

"Yeah, but they were with you."

I roll my eyes.

"Aztec?"

"They're probably out there, too, since there's so many already."

This time, it's Nico rolling his eyes, purely irritated. "I'm not even going to ask." He pauses. "And go take a shower, too. You smell weird."