# Chapter 19: Fallen Hero Percy continued to stare at their reflection in the mirror, transfixed by the stark contrast between them. His golden curls, now slightly longer, framed his delicate face while Nico's powerful form towered behind him. The sight stirred complex emotions within him—shame at his diminished state, envy of Nico's strength, and something else he wasn't ready to acknowledge. "We should probably get some food," Nico suggested, his deep voice breaking the silence. "You barely ate anything at breakfast." Percy nodded, tearing his gaze away from the mirror. "Yeah, I guess I should try to keep my strength up... what little I have left." As they walked toward the door, Percy caught a glimpse of the training arena through the window. Campers were gathering there for the afternoon session, their weapons glinting in the sunlight as they paired off for practice. A pang of longing shot through him at the familiar sight. "Wait," Percy said, stopping abruptly. "I want to go to training." Nico turned, surprise evident on his face. "Training? Percy, you can barely walk across camp without getting winded." "I know," Percy admitted, his jaw tightening with determination. "But I can't just hide in here forever. I need to... I need to at least try." Nico studied him for a moment, knowing that Annabeth was out in a mission with Grover, she couldn't bother them. Then shrugged his powerful shoulders. "If that's what you want. But I'm coming with you." They changed directions, heading toward the training arena instead of the dining pavilion. With each step, Percy felt a mixture of anticipation and dread building within him. Part of him knew this was a terrible idea, but another part—the part that had once been the hero of Olympus—refused to give up without a fight. As they approached, Percy could feel eyes turning toward them. Conversations faltered, then resumed in hushed tones. He straightened his back as much as his weakened frame would allow, determined not to show how much the stares affected him. Clarisse La Rue was leading the session, barking orders at a group of younger campers who scrambled to follow her instructions. She paused mid-sentence when she spotted Percy and Nico, her eyebrows rising in surprise. "Well, look who decided to join us," she called out, her voice carrying across the arena. "Heard about your little... situation, Jackson. Didn't expect to see you here." Percy forced himself to meet her gaze. "Just thought I'd get some practice in," he said, striving for a casual tone. Clarisse looked him up and down, taking in his diminutive form and thinner arms. To Percy's surprise, she didn't mock him outright. Instead, she gave a curt nod. "Grab a sword then," she said. "We're working on basic defensive maneuvers today." Percy headed toward the weapons rack, conscious of the whispers following him. He reached for a standard-issue sword, the kind he would have considered far too light in his previous state. But as his fingers closed around the hilt, he was shocked by its weight. The blade that should have felt like an extension of his arm now felt impossibly heavy. With effort, Percy lifted the sword, his arm trembling slightly under the strain. He turned back toward the practice area, where pairs of campers were already engaged in slow, deliberate sparring matches. "Need a partner?" Nico asked, standing beside him with a sword of his own—a heavier blade that he held effortlessly in one hand. Percy hesitated. The thought of sparring with Nico, of having his weakness so starkly contrasted with Nico's newfound power, made his stomach clench. But the alternative—asking one of the other campers—seemed even worse. "Sure," he said finally. They found an open space at the edge of the arena. Percy raised his sword into a defensive position, the weight of it already making his arm ache. Nico mirrored his stance, though with none of Percy's strain. "I'll go easy," Nico promised, his voice low enough that only Percy could hear. Percy gritted his teeth. "Don't," he said sharply. "I don't want your pity." Nico's eyes widened slightly, but he nodded. "Alright. Ready?" Before Percy could respond, Nico lunged forward with a basic attack—one that the old Percy could have parried in his sleep. Percy tried to raise his sword to block, but his reaction time was painfully slow, his muscles refusing to cooperate. The clash of metal against metal sent a shock through his arms, nearly causing him to drop his weapon. Percy stumbled backward, struggling to regain his balance. Around them, he could sense attention shifting their way, campers pausing in their own practice to watch. "Again," Percy said, forcing his trembling arms back into position. Nico hesitated, then nodded. This time, his attack was even simpler—a straightforward thrust that should have been elementary to deflect. Percy managed to get his sword up in time, but the force of the impact knocked him back another step, his wrists bending painfully. "Percy," Nico said quietly, lowering his weapon. "Maybe we should—" "Again," Percy insisted, his voice tight with frustration. They continued, with Nico attacking and Percy struggling to defend. Each clash of swords sent painful vibrations up Percy's arms, his muscles burning with exertion. Sweat began to drip down his face, his breathing growing labored. He was vaguely aware of the circle of spectators that had formed around them, campers abandoning their own practice to watch the fallen hero's pathetic attempts. Some were whispering behind their hands, while others didn't bother to hide their stares. After a particularly feeble attempt to parry, Percy's sword was knocked completely from his grasp, clattering to the ground several feet away. The sound seemed to echo in the sudden silence that had fallen over the arena. Someone snickered. Percy stood frozen, looking at his empty hands, then at the sword lying in the dust. His arms felt like lead, his chest heaving with exertion. He should have been able to go for hours—he once had—but now, after just minutes of the most basic exercise, he was exhausted. "I think that's enough," Nico said, stepping forward as if to shield Percy from the onlookers. But Percy wasn't ready to give up. Pride—the last remnant of his former self—drove him forward to retrieve his fallen weapon. His legs felt unsteady beneath him, but he forced himself to walk steadily, refusing to show weakness. As he bent to pick up the sword, a voice called out from the crowd. "Is that really Percy Jackson?" Percy's hand froze inches from the hilt. The voice belonged to one of the newer campers—a boy who had arrived after the Titan War, who had only heard stories about Percy's heroic feats. "I thought he was supposed to be this great hero," the voice continued, louder now, emboldened by the attention. "Looks pretty pathetic to me." Percy straightened, sword in hand, to face his critic. It was a boy of about thirteen, with the stocky build and hard eyes of an Ares kid. Several other young campers stood with him, watching Percy with a mixture of curiosity and disdain. "That's enough, Ellis," Clarisse said sharply from across the arena. "Get back to practice." But Ellis didn't move, his eyes fixed on Percy with growing confidence. He'd found an easy target—a fallen hero who couldn't defend himself. "They said you killed the Minotaur with your bare hands," Ellis said, taking a step closer. "But I bet you couldn't even kill a fly now." Percy tightened his grip on the sword, though the weight of it made his arm tremble visibly. "I've earned my rest," he said, his voice less authoritative than he'd intended. "What have you done except run your mouth?" A ripple of "oohs" went through the gathered campers. Ellis's face darkened with anger, and he stepped forward into Percy's space. "At least I'm not pretending to be something I'm not," he sneered. "Look at you—you can barely hold that sword. Why are you even here? Nobody wants to see a has-been embarrass himself." The words hit Percy like physical blows. His throat tightened, but he forced himself to hold his ground, to not look away from Ellis's contemptuous gaze. "You don't know what you're talking about," Percy said, his voice steadier now despite the heaviness in his chest. "You don't know who I am, you don't know how strong I have been." Ellis laughed, a harsh sound that was quickly joined by several of his friends. "No, but I can see what you are now—nothing. Just a weak little nobody pretending he still matters." Before Percy could respond, Ellis reached out and gave him a light shove. Under normal circumstances, it would have been nothing—barely enough to make Percy sway. But in his weakened state, the push sent him stumbling backward, his balance deserting him. He fell hard onto his back, the sword once again slipping from his grasp. The arena erupted in laughter—not just from Ellis and his friends, but from many of the gathered campers. Percy lay there, the breath knocked from his lungs, humiliation burning through him like acid. "Look at him!" Ellis crowed, pointing down at Percy. "The great hero of Olympus, laid out by a little push!" Percy struggled to sit up, his limbs feeling even weaker than before. Ellis took another step toward him, emboldened by his success and the approving laughter of the crowd. "Maybe we should help him up," Ellis suggested to his friends, his tone making it clear that "help" wasn't what he had in mind. One of the other boys grinned. "Yeah, let's show him what real demigods can do." They moved forward as a group, surrounding Percy where he sat in the dust. One of them kicked at his fallen sword, sending it skittering further away. Another reached down and tugged mockingly at Percy's golden curls. "Pretty hair," he sneered. "Are you sure you're not a daughter of Aphrodite?" Percy tried to swat the hand away, but his movements were sluggish, his coordination shot. "Get away from me," he said, hating the weakness in his voice. Ellis crouched down in front of him, his expression malicious. "Or what? What are you going to do about it, Jackson? Call for help? Cry?" To Percy's horror, he felt tears of frustration and shame stinging at the corners of his eyes. He blinked them back furiously, refusing to give Ellis the satisfaction. "Just leave me alone," Percy said, trying once more to get to his feet. But Ellis placed a hand on his chest, holding him down with almost insulting ease. "I don't think so," Ellis said. "I think you need to learn your place. The days of everyone worshipping the ground you walk on are over." He gave Percy another push, harder this time, sending him flat onto his back again. The other boys laughed, closing in tighter. Percy had never felt so helpless in his life—not even when facing monsters or titans. At least then he'd had his strength, his power. Now he had nothing, not even the ability to defend himself against a group of bullying kids. "Stop it!" Percy said, his voice cracking with emotion. "Just stop!" "Make me," Ellis taunted, reaching down to grab the front of Percy's shirt. And then, between one heartbeat and the next, everything changed. The ground beneath them trembled—a subtle vibration at first, then a more pronounced shaking that sent small stones and dust particles dancing across the arena floor. The air grew colder, charged with a energy that made the hairs on the back of Percy's neck stand up. A shadow fell across them, and Ellis's grip on Percy's shirt loosened as he looked up, his expression morphing from malicious glee to sudden uncertainty. "Get. Away. From. Him." Nico's voice was barely more than a whisper, but it carried an authority that silenced the entire arena. He stood just behind Ellis, his powerful frame tense with barely contained rage. The ground continued to tremble beneath their feet, responding to Nico's anger. Ellis let go of Percy's shirt and rose slowly to his feet, turning to face Nico. Despite being a son of Ares, Ellis suddenly looked very young and very small next to Nico's towering form. "We were just having some fun," Ellis said, but his voice had lost all its previous confidence. "Fun?" Nico repeated, the word dripping with menace. "You call this fun?" He took a step forward, and Ellis instinctively stepped back, nearly tripping over Percy in the process. The other boys had already begun to edge away, their earlier bravado evaporating in the face of Nico's wrath. "Do you know who this is?" Nico asked, gesturing to Percy without taking his eyes off Ellis. "This is Perseus Jackson. He saved this camp—saved the entire world—while you were still learning to tie your shoes. He's faced monsters and gods and titans that would make you wet yourself in terror." Ellis swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. "I didn't—" "You didn't think," Nico cut him off. "You saw weakness and decided to exploit it. What does that say about you?" The ground gave another ominous rumble. Behind Nico, a small fissure opened in the arena floor, dark smoke curling up from its depths. Several campers gasped, backing further away. "Nico," Percy said softly, finally managing to get to his feet. "It's okay." Nico's gaze flicked briefly to Percy, then back to Ellis. "It's not okay," he said. "None of this is okay." For a moment, Percy thought Nico might actually attack Ellis—there was a wildness in his eyes that Percy had never seen before, a raw power that seemed barely contained within his mortal form. But then Nico closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and the trembling of the earth gradually subsided. When he opened his eyes again, they were still hard with anger, but the uncontrolled rage had receded. "If I ever see you or your friends bothering Percy again," Nico said to Ellis, his voice deadly quiet, "you will regret it in ways you can't begin to imagine. Do you understand me?" Ellis nodded frantically, all traces of his earlier bravado gone. "Yes. I understand." "Good. Now get out of my sight." Ellis and his friends didn't need to be told twice. They scrambled away, nearly tripping over each other in their haste to put distance between themselves and Nico's wrath. The rest of the gathered campers began to disperse as well, many avoiding looking at either Percy or Nico as they returned to their training or slipped away from the arena entirely. Clarisse remained, watching them with an unreadable expression before giving Nico a small nod of approval and turning away. Percy stood in the aftermath, his body aching from the fall and the earlier exertion. The humiliation of what had just happened washed over him in waves. He'd been bullied by children—children—and had been unable to defend himself. If Nico hadn't stepped in... "Are you hurt?" Nico asked, his voice gentler now as he turned to face Percy. Percy shook his head, unable to meet Nico's eyes. "Just my pride," he said bitterly. Nico stepped closer, one hand coming up to rest on Percy's shoulder. "Let's go back to the cabin," he suggested. "You've had enough for today." Percy knew he should argue, should insist on staying to prove that he couldn't be chased away so easily. But the fight had gone out of him. His muscles ached, his head throbbed, and all he wanted was to escape the prying eyes and whispers that followed him across the arena. "Yeah," he agreed quietly. "Let's go." They walked back to the Poseidon cabin in silence, Percy intensely aware of how Nico had slowed his pace to match Percy's more labored steps. Once inside, Percy sank onto his bed, his body finally giving in to the exhaustion that had been building since their sparring session began. "I shouldn't have let you go to training," Nico said, sitting down beside him. "It was too soon." "It wasn't your decision to make," Percy replied, but there was no heat in his words. He was too tired for anger. "Besides, I needed to know." "Know what?" "How bad it really is." Percy looked down at his hands—thin, weak hands that could no longer hold a sword, could no longer fight, could no longer protect anyone. "I guess now I do." Nico was quiet for a moment, his dark eyes studying Percy's face. "Those kids were idiots," he said finally. "What they did doesn't change who you are or what you've accomplished." Percy gave a hollow laugh. "Doesn't it? Look at me, Nico. I can't even defend myself against a bunch of thirteen-year-olds. What kind of hero does that make me?" "Your worth isn't measured by your physical strength," Nico insisted. "It never was. It's your heart, your courage, your willingness to sacrifice for others—that's what makes you a hero. And those things haven't changed." The words should have been comforting, but they only made Percy feel worse. "Tell that to Ellis and his friends," he said bitterly. "Tell that to everyone who saw me fall on my ass today." "Percy—" "No, Nico. Don't... don't try to make this better. It is what it is." Percy closed his eyes, suddenly exhausted beyond measure. "I just want to sleep." Nico hesitated, then nodded. "Alright. I'll be here if you need anything." Percy lay back on the bed, not bothering to change out of his dusty clothes or even kick off his shoes. He felt Nico's weight leave the bed, heard him moving around the cabin, but couldn't summon the energy to open his eyes again. Despite his exhaustion, sleep didn't come easily. Percy's mind kept replaying the humiliating scene in the arena—the laughter, the taunts, the feeling of absolute helplessness as Ellis pushed him to the ground. And then Nico, stepping in to protect him, the very ground trembling with his anger. Percy had never needed protection before. He had always been the protector—the one others turned to when they were in danger. The reversal of roles felt wrong, unnatural, and yet... There had been something about the way Nico had stood up for him, something about the raw power and authority in his voice as he confronted Ellis, that had affected Percy in ways he wasn't prepared to acknowledge. Even now, thinking about it sent a strange warmth through him, a feeling that had nothing to do with gratitude and everything to do with the new dynamic between them. The room had grown dark by the time Percy finally drifted off to sleep, his consciousness slipping away into dreams that were as confusing as they were vivid. In his dream, Percy was kneeling at Nico's feet, his head bowed in submission. Nico stood before him, powerful and commanding, one hand resting on Percy's head in a gesture that was both possessive and protective. "You belong to me now," dream-Nico said, his voice resonating with authority. "Say it." And dream-Percy looked up, his face filled with adoration and acceptance. "I belong to you," he replied without hesitation. The real Percy twisted in his sleep, his subconscious mind rejecting the images even as another part of him leaned into them, finding a strange comfort in the submission. The dream shifted, becoming more explicit—Nico ordering Percy to his knees, commanding him to pleasure him, to worship his body, to serve him in every way possible. And dream-Percy obeyed eagerly, finding joy in his submission, in being owned and controlled and protected. "This is your true nature," dream-Nico whispered, his hand gentle on Percy's cheek. "This is who you were always meant to be." Percy woke with a gasp, his heart racing, his body covered in a cold sweat. The cabin was dark and silent except for the sound of his ragged breathing. He sat up, trying to shake off the disturbing images from his dream, but they clung to him like a second skin. "Percy?" Nico's voice came from the other bed, husky with sleep. "Are you okay?" Percy couldn't answer. The dream had left him shaken, confused, and—most disturbingly—aroused. He drew his knees up to his chest, trying to hide his body's reaction, though the darkness of the cabin should have been enough to conceal it. "Did you have a nightmare?" Nico asked, more alert now. Percy heard the rustle of blankets as Nico sat up. "You were making sounds in your sleep." Percy's face burned at the thought of what those sounds might have been. "I'm fine," he managed to say, his voice strained. "Just a bad dream." There was a moment of silence, then more rustling as Nico got out of his bed. Percy tensed as Nico approached, still trying to process the conflicting emotions the dream had stirred up. "Move over," Nico said softly, sitting on the edge of Percy's bed. Percy hesitated, then shifted to make room. Nico climbed in beside him, his body radiating warmth in the cool night air. Without asking permission, he wrapped an arm around Percy's shoulders, pulling him close against his side. "You're shaking," Nico observed, his voice a deep rumble in the darkness. "I'm cold," Percy lied. "No, you're not." Nico's arm tightened around him. "You're scared. What did you dream about?" Percy closed his eyes, unable to voice the truth. "I don't remember," he said instead. Nico was quiet for a moment, his breath warm against Percy's hair. "It's okay to be afraid," he said finally. "After what happened today... anyone would be." Percy swallowed hard, fighting back the sudden rush of emotions. "I can't live like this," he whispered. "I can't be this... this weak, helpless thing that needs protection from children." "You won't have to," Nico assured him. "Hades will restore your strength eventually. This is just temporary." But even as Nico spoke the words, Percy found himself doubting them. What if this wasn't temporary? What if this was his life now—forever weak, forever dependent on others for protection? The thought sent a fresh wave of panic through him, and he found himself clinging to Nico, pressing closer to his solid warmth. "I can't," Percy repeated, his voice breaking. "I can't do this, Nico. I need... I need..." "What?" Nico asked, his voice gentle. "What do you need, Percy?" Percy looked up, meeting Nico's gaze in the dim light filtering through the cabin windows. "I need you," he admitted, the words torn from somewhere deep inside him. "Your strength. Your protection. I don't... I don't know how to be this person. I don't know how to be weak." Tears spilled from Percy's eyes, trailing down his cheeks as the full weight of his situation crashed over him. He had been humiliated today, shown exactly how powerless he truly was. And the worst part wasn't the physical weakness—it was the realization that he had come to rely on Nico, to need him in ways that went beyond simple assistance. "I've got you," Nico murmured, one hand coming up to wipe away Percy's tears. "For as long as you need me, I've got you." Percy stared up at Nico through tear-blurred vision, struck by the tenderness in the son of Hades's expression. This was the boy he had once thought of as just a kid—the scrawny, awkward son of Hades who had followed him around with undisguised hero worship. Now Nico was his protector, his defender... his what? The confusion must have shown on Percy's face, because Nico's expression softened further. His thumb traced the curve of Percy's cheek, wiping away the last of the tears. "It's going to be okay," Nico promised. "I won't let anyone hurt you. Not ever." Percy closed his eyes, leaning into Nico's touch despite himself. "I hate feeling like this," he confessed. "So small. So weak. So... dependent." "I know," Nico said. "But you're not alone. I'm here." Percy opened his eyes, looking up at Nico—at the strong line of his jaw, the broad shoulders, the powerful arms that had once been Percy's own. There was something both comforting and disturbing about seeing his former strength now protecting him. "Why?" Percy asked suddenly. "Why are you doing all this? Taking care of me, defending me?" Nico's expression became unreadable, his dark eyes holding secrets Percy couldn't begin to fathom. "Because it's the right thing to do," he said finally. But Percy sensed there was more to it than that—something deeper, more complex. Before he could press further, Nico shifted, his face moving closer to Percy's, his breath warm against Percy's lips. Time seemed to slow as Percy realized what was about to happen. He should pull away, should protest, should do anything but what he actually did—which was to remain perfectly still, his heart racing in anticipation. Nico hesitated, giving Percy one last chance to retreat. When Percy didn't move, Nico closed the remaining distance between them, pressing his lips gently against Percy's in a kiss that was as tender as it was unexpected.