Chapter Text
Well this sucks.
It was just one monster his father had said. Nothing to worry about. Hades had told Nico to just leave it be. One of the kids from camp half blood would take care of it, and if not Hades could send a mini skeleton army to take care of it.
Nico should have listened to his father. He should have let the baby basilisk in the midst of a temper tantrum be handled by some other hero.
Really it was beneath him, the famed ghost king to be fighting a small child.(well a large one with sharp fangs and poisonous venom— but that’s besides the point)
And even more beneath the ghost king, was where he was now. In a dank dark rat infested alley, just like every alley in New York, slowly bleeding to death, or you could say slowly dying by form of poison reaching towards Nico’s heart.
Either way, death from blood loss, or poison was stupid. He was the ghost king. And he was about to die painfully slowly at the hands(well not hands literally, you know because snakes don’t have hands) of a baby snake. It was just stupid.
And the worst part? It was all Nico’s fault. It is all his fault that this will be his death.
Maybe someone would have come to help, having noticed his prolonged disappearance. Someone could have if Nico hadn’t already pushed them all away, and if his father and Persephone weren’t used to his random schedule and unwarned disappearances for sometimes days at a time.
But it’s better that way, Nico told himself as he breathed heavily on the blood choking up from his lungs.
No one wants to hang around him, ghost king, death kid, child of the underworld.
Maybe Nico will fit in better with the dead now that he is about to be dead too. Besides, how much will life really change? Nico will still live in the underworld, he’ll still see his father and Persephone.
He will still be alone.
These are his last thoughts, before the world spins into a darkened oblivion. And Nico loses consciousness.
***
Nico’s first thoughts upon waking is that it is far too bright and colorful, for him to be in the underworld. (So… yay for not being dead)
But if he is not dead, where the Hades is he, and why is the room, the bed sheets, basically everything surrounding him in bright neon colors. Whoever saved him must be mentally deranged (and unaware that Nico is allergic to color).
Slowly Nico sits up, blinking his eyes rapidly, as if that will somehow miraculously get rid of all the color. As he’s sitting up he notices his torso is wrapped tightly in bandages and a dull pain radiates from the general area, hot with the fading poison and clotting blood.
And then, oh gods!!
Tie-dye.
Nico is dressed in a large Tie-dye shirt, that seems to drown him in folds of bright yellow, blue, and pink cloth.
Again, Nico reiterates in his mind where the Hades is he, and what deranged person brought him here. Oh, and where’s his sword so he can properly threaten them all the way to the underworld.
Because sure. They probably saved his life and all, and while not being dead had to be a plus in the long run (right?) they had also made them where color, and not only color, but multiple happy hippie colors, in a freakin tie-dye swirl.
Nico thought being killed by a baby snake, and bleeding out in a dark alley was an embarrassment. But boy, was this a new low, the ghost king dressed in rainbow.
Nico groaned, flopping his head back down on the pillow, while ignoring the sharp pain from his stomach, “Ugh… gods kill me now,” he would have preferred the snake.
Pushing all thoughts aside of tie-dye shirts and baby snakes of death, Nico focuses on the problem at hand. He is currently in some unknown place, if he were to assume some weird mortal hippie found him, and fixed up his wounds. And while they are probably not harmful as it would be pointless to bring him back from death's door just to attempt to kill him he would rather escape having avoided any interaction with this mysterious person. Because people and socializing in a polite way.
Definitely not his strong suit, Nico thinks with a shudder.
So…. Nico sits up again, swinging his feet over the side of the bed and standing up. The world goes a maddening dizzy whirl for a second, but Nico pushes the nausea to the side. And he looks around.
The room is small, the bright colors he had seen earlier fade into distinct shapes and swirls. Rugs and carpets, shelves with painted pottery, pictures all over the wall, of plants and animals, some people too. Nico studies the photographed faces for a moment, they almost look familiar.
Nico shakes his head, clearly the blood loss is still affecting him. He’s in a complete strangers house, no one he knows lives like a hippie, wandering around alleys of New York.
Nico glances around for a moment more before he spots it. Silky drapes, dyed in rich hues of purple and indigo, embroidered with bright streaks of silver. They hang loosely blowing in the breeze jetting in from the window cracked open.
It’s perfect, large enough for a small child to squeeze through. And although Nico is nearing sixteen, he still had the slight frame, and slender bones from his youth.
Nico spots his sword lying next to the bed. Quickly he picks up the long blade. And after shoving the window up, and jutting out the screen, he tosses the blade out to the willowy grass below. Nico clambers out after dropping the few feet to the ground below.
He scoops up his sword, and presses his hand tenderly against his stomach. His fingers come back free of blood which is good enough for him. And on slightly wobbly feet Nico begins to make his way to what he assumes is the front of the house and from there the open road.
As he’s rounding the corner though, Nico comes face to face with two large golden lions. They eye him, golden eyes squinted in emotion unknown to Nico.
Gods, he thinks, raising his sword, with still sore and weak hands.
Not some random stranger then. He should have known. When is there ever a dull moment for the ghost king, prince of gloom and doom?