# Chapter 22: Trading Places The morning sunlight filtered through the cabin windows, illuminating the aftermath of their encounter. Percy lay on the bed, still wearing the stained training tights bunched around his waist, his golden curls splayed across the pillow. His breathing had steadied, but his eyes held a distant, hollow look as he stared at the ceiling. Nico stood by the bed, admiring his handiwork. Percy looked thoroughly used—the once-mighty hero reduced to this delicate, trembling creature wearing the oversized clothes of his former self. It was a stark visual reminder of how far he had fallen. "We should get ready for the day," Nico said, breaking the silence. He reached for his own clothes, pulling them on with practiced ease, his new muscular body filling them out perfectly. Percy sat up slowly, wincing slightly from their activities. He looked down at the blue training tights, now soiled with sweat and other bodily fluids. "I can't wear these anymore," he said, his voice small. "They're ruined." Nico paused, considering. The sight of Percy in those oversized clothes had been arousing, but the point had been made. "You're right," he agreed. "You need something else to wear." Percy glanced around the cabin, his eyes landing on his chest of clothes. "All my clothes will be too big now," he said, a note of distress in his voice. Nico's lips curved into a smile as an idea formed. "Why don't we swap wardrobes?" he suggested, his tone casual but his intent deliberate. "Until we get back to our original bodies, I mean. My clothes should fit you now, and yours would fit me perfectly." Percy looked up sharply, surprise evident on his face. "Swap wardrobes? All of them?" "Why not?" Nico shrugged, moving to his own dresser. "It makes sense. Your clothes are made for someone with my current build, and mine would fit your... new dimensions." Percy hesitated, clearly uncomfortable with the suggestion. It was one thing to temporarily wear oversized clothes as a supposed method to regain his strength; it was quite another to fully adopt Nico's wardrobe—a tangible admission that his transformation was more than momentary. "I don't know, Nico," Percy said, fingers plucking nervously at the soiled training tights. "It feels like giving up." Nico approached the bed, sitting down beside Percy. He reached out, tucking a golden curl behind Percy's ear with feigned tenderness. "It's not giving up," he assured him, his voice gentle but firm. "It's just being practical while we wait for Hades to reverse this. You can't keep wearing clothes that don't fit." Percy leaned slightly into Nico's touch, his resistance already weakening. "I guess you're right," he conceded. "It would be more comfortable." "Exactly," Nico said, standing up. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up first." He led Percy to the small bathroom attached to the cabin, helping him out of the soiled clothes. Percy stood naked and vulnerable, his diminutive frame a stark contrast to Nico's powerful physique. Nico wet a washcloth and began cleaning Percy's body, taking his time, his touch both possessive and controlling. Percy remained silent during the process, his cheeks flushed with a mixture of shame and something else—a growing acceptance of his position. When Nico finished, he wrapped a towel around Percy's narrow shoulders. "Better?" Nico asked, running a hand through Percy's golden curls. Percy nodded, unable to meet Nico's eyes. "Thanks." They returned to the main room, and Nico gestured to his dresser. "Go ahead. Pick whatever you want from my clothes. They're yours now." Percy moved hesitantly to the dresser, opening the top drawer. Inside were Nico's smaller t-shirts, plain and dark-colored. He selected a black one, holding it against his chest. It would fit his new frame perfectly—maybe even be a little loose. "This one okay?" Percy asked, seeking approval in a way that would have been unthinkable days ago. "Perfect," Nico confirmed. "Get dressed, and then we'll go through the rest." Percy pulled the black t-shirt over his head. The fabric settled against his slender torso, fitting him far better than his own clothes had. He moved to the next drawer, finding a pair of Nico's jeans. These too he tried on, fastening them at his waist without needing a belt. "They fit well," Percy observed quietly, looking down at himself. "Your clothes, I mean." "Of course they do," Nico said, his voice tinged with satisfaction. "They're made for someone of your size now." Percy flinched slightly at the reminder but didn't argue. He looked over at Nico, who was still in his own clothes. "What about you? Aren't you going to try on mine?" Nico smiled, moving to Percy's chest of clothes. "I am. Let's see what the mighty Percy Jackson used to wear." He opened the chest, rifling through the contents. T-shirts in various shades of blue and orange, jeans that had been worn soft with use, a leather jacket Percy had received from his mother on his sixteenth birthday. Nico selected an outfit—a blue t-shirt that had always accentuated Percy's muscular frame, a pair of well-fitted jeans, and the leather jacket. "These should do nicely," Nico said, laying them on the bed. "I'll try them in a minute. First, let's finish getting your new wardrobe sorted." They spent the next half hour going through both their clothing collections. Percy reluctantly handed over his favored items—special shirts gifted by Annabeth, comfortable hoodies worn on quests, the ceremonial camp attire he'd been given after saving Olympus. In return, Nico provided his smaller clothes, the dark t-shirts and jeans that had once hung on his own thin frame. The symbolism wasn't lost on either of them. This was more than a practical exchange; it was a transfer of identity. Percy was literally giving up the clothes that had defined him as a hero, as the savior of Olympus, as the son of Poseidon. And Nico was claiming them, along with everything else that had once been Percy's. When they had finished sorting, two distinct piles lay on their respective beds. Percy's new wardrobe was dark, simple, and small—clothes meant for someone unremarkable, someone who didn't stand out. Nico's new collection was colorful, varied, and heroic—clothes that commanded attention, that had been worn during legendary quests. "I guess that's everything," Percy said, looking at his new pile with a mixture of resignation and sadness. "Not quite," Nico countered. "I haven't tried anything on yet. I want to see how they fit." Percy sat on his bed, watching as Nico began to undress. There was nothing modest about the way Nico removed his clothes, taking his time to flex and showcase the muscles he'd stolen. He stood naked for a moment, letting Percy take in his powerful physique—the broad shoulders, the defined chest, the strong arms and legs. It was a cruel reminder of what Percy had lost, what now belonged to Nico. Nico picked up the blue t-shirt first, pulling it over his head. The fabric stretched across his chest and shoulders, fitting perfectly. Next came the jeans, sliding up powerful thighs to fasten snugly at his waist. Finally, he slipped on the leather jacket, completing the transformation. "How do I look?" Nico asked, turning to Percy with a smirk. Percy stared, unable to hide his reaction. Nico looked magnificent. The clothes that had once been his now adorned a body even more impressive than the one he'd possessed. The blue shirt emphasized the muscles of Nico's chest and arms, the jeans showcased his powerful legs, and the leather jacket added a final touch of confidence and authority. "They fit you well," Percy admitted quietly, his voice barely audible. "Better than they ever fit you," Nico replied, his cruelty thinly veiled as teasing. He moved to stand before the mirror, admiring his reflection. "These were made for a hero. For someone strong." He turned back to Percy, his eyes glinting. "For someone like me." Percy flinched but didn't contradict him. He looked down at his own body, clothed in Nico's dark garments, feeling the finality of the exchange. These clothes fit him now, just as Nico's clothes had once fit their original owner—a smaller, weaker boy who lived in the shadows. "We should get to training," Nico announced suddenly, checking his reflection one last time. "I want to try out these new moves I've been feeling inside." Percy looked up, confusion crossing his face. "New moves?" "Just some combat techniques I've been sensing," Nico said vaguely. "Like they were locked inside my body and are now coming to the surface. Probably part of the whole... transformation thing." It was a lie, of course. Nico had been feeling Percy's muscle memory, the combat instincts that had made him such a formidable fighter. Those instincts hadn't fully transferred with the physical strength—they remained embedded deeper, in places Nico hadn't yet reached. "Oh," Percy said, accepting the explanation without question. "I'm not sure I should train. I'm not very... useful like this." "Nonsense," Nico insisted, moving to stand before Percy. "You need to stay active. Maybe it will help speed up the return of your strength." Another lie, but Percy nodded eagerly, always quick to grasp at any hope offered. "You think so?" "I do," Nico said, reaching out to cup Percy's face. "Besides, I want you to see what I can do now. What your body can do with me controlling it." Before Percy could respond, Nico leaned down and kissed him deeply. The kiss was possessive, dominating, but it also had another purpose. As his lips moved against Percy's, Nico concentrated, reaching mentally for the combat knowledge still lingering in Percy's brain—the muscle memory of sword strokes, the perfect balance when dodging, the tactical awareness that had kept him alive through countless battles. Percy melted into the kiss, unaware of what was happening. His arms wound around Nico's neck, his smaller body pressing against Nico's powerful frame. He was lost in the sensation, in the submissive pleasure that now defined his existence. Nico delved deeper, mentally extracting the combat knowledge that remained in Percy's mind. He could feel it flowing into him—years of training, countless battles, the instinctive movements that had made Percy a legend. These weren't just physical abilities; they were skills honed through experience, through facing monsters and gods alike. When he finally broke the kiss, Percy was breathless, his eyes glazed with desire. Nico felt different—more complete. The physical strength he'd stolen was now complemented by the combat knowledge that had made Percy such a formidable fighter. "Let's go," Nico said, his voice husky with anticipation. "I want to show everyone what I can do." Percy followed Nico out of the cabin, a step behind as befitted his new status. They walked through the camp, drawing stares and whispers. The contrast between them was striking—Nico powerful and confident in Percy's heroic clothes, Percy diminutive and subdued in Nico's dark garments. The training grounds were busy that morning. Demigods of various ages practiced with swords, spears, and other weapons. Some worked on hand-to-hand combat, others on archery or chariot racing. All activities paused momentarily as Nico and Percy approached, the campers unable to hide their curiosity at the transformed pair. Clarisse La Rue was leading a group of Ares campers through combat drills. She paused mid-demonstration, her eyes narrowing as she took in the sight of Nico in Percy's clothes, radiating power and confidence, and Percy trailing behind him, small and meek. "Well, look who decided to grace us with their presence," Clarisse called out, her voice carrying across the training ground. "Jackson and di Angelo. Or should I say di Angelo and Jackson, given the... changes." Nico approached, his stride purposeful. Percy hung back, clearly uncomfortable with the attention they were receiving. "Morning, Clarisse," Nico greeted, his voice carrying a new authority. "I see you're putting your cabin through their paces." Clarisse's eyes swept over him, taking in the physical transformation and the new confidence. "You're looking... different, di Angelo. Both of you are. Care to explain what happened?" "Divine intervention," Nico said simply, offering no further explanation. "I'm here to train. Percy too." Clarisse snorted, her gaze shifting to Percy's diminished form. "Train? Him? He can barely stand in a strong breeze." Percy flinched, the truth of her words hitting him hard. Nico stepped slightly in front of him, a gesture that might have seemed protective but was more about asserting ownership. "He'll watch for now," Nico stated. "I, on the other hand, am feeling particularly... energetic today." Clarisse raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite herself. "Is that so? Care to demonstrate?" Nico's lips curved into a challenging smile. "Actually, I was thinking of something more... substantial. A real test." "What did you have in mind?" Clarisse asked, crossing her arms over her chest. Nico surveyed the training ground, noting the stronger campers present. Ellis from the Ares cabin, who had humiliated Percy the day before. Two children of Athena with impressive combat records. A daughter of Apollo known for her speed and precision. A son of Hephaestus with incredible strength. "How about this," Nico proposed, his voice carrying across the training ground, drawing the attention of everyone present. "I'll take on five of your best. Simultaneously." A hush fell over the training ground. Even for Percy in his prime, such a challenge would have been formidable. For Nico, who had never been known for combat prowess, it was unprecedented. "You're joking," Clarisse said, though her expression suggested she was more intrigued than dismissive. "Do I look like I'm joking?" Nico countered, his stance confident, almost arrogant. Percy stepped forward, placing a hand on Nico's arm. "Nico, that's crazy. Only I could—" "You're not me," Nico cut him off, his voice hard. Then, softer, for Percy's ears only: "Trust me. I know what I'm doing." Percy withdrew his hand, hurt flashing in his eyes before he lowered his gaze submissively. "Sorry." Clarisse watched the interaction with narrowed eyes, noting the dynamics at play. "Alright, di Angelo. You've got yourself a challenge. Ellis, Sherman, Kayla, Malcolm, Leo—you're up." The five named campers stepped forward, some looking eager, others skeptical. Ellis in particular had a predatory grin, clearly remembering his easy victory over Percy the day before. "Five against one," Clarisse announced to the gathering crowd. "Training weapons only. First to yield loses." The crowd formed a wide circle around the designated combat area. Percy found himself pushed to the edge, just another spectator now, watching as Nico took center stage. Nico removed the leather jacket, handing it to a nearby camper. He rolled his shoulders, feeling the power in his muscles, the combat knowledge he'd just stolen from Percy filling his mind with strategies and techniques. "Ready when you are," he called to his opponents, who had spread out to surround him. Clarisse raised her hand, then dropped it sharply. "Begin!" Ellis charged first, as expected, a training spear aimed at Nico's midsection. Nico side-stepped with a grace that was entirely Percy's, using Ellis's momentum against him to send him sprawling past. Without missing a beat, Nico ducked under Malcolm's sword swing, delivering a swift kick to the son of Athena's knee that dropped him momentarily. Kayla, the daughter of Apollo, fired a blunted arrow that Nico caught mid-air, his reflexes inhumanly fast. He snapped the arrow and tossed it aside, moving immediately to counter Sherman's attack from behind, blocking the strike with a shield he'd snatched from a nearby rack. Leo, the son of Hephaestus, circled cautiously, looking for an opening. When he lunged, Nico was ready, deflecting the strike with the shield and sweeping Leo's legs from under him with a move straight from Percy's combat repertoire. The crowd gasped, clearly impressed by Nico's display. Percy watched with a mixture of awe and dismay, recognizing his own techniques being executed with a perfection he himself had rarely achieved. Ellis recovered from his initial charge, rejoining the fray with renewed determination. He and Sherman coordinated their attacks, coming at Nico from opposite sides. Nico waited until the last possible moment, then dropped to the ground, causing the two sons of Ares to nearly collide. As they adjusted, Nico rolled back to his feet, delivering a powerful strike with the shield that sent Sherman staggering back. Malcolm had regained his feet and was advancing cautiously, his analytical mind clearly trying to assess Nico's fighting style. But there was nothing to analyze—Nico was using Percy's techniques, but with a ruthlessness that Percy had never displayed, making him unpredictable and dangerous. When Malcolm attacked, Nico countered with a disarming move so swift that the son of Athena's sword was flying from his hand before he realized what had happened. A quick sweep of Nico's leg, and Malcolm was on his back, Nico's foot on his chest. "Yield," Malcolm gasped, recognizing his defeat. One down, four to go. Kayla had switched to a closer-range weapon, a training dagger that she wielded with precision. She darted in and out, testing Nico's defenses, but he matched her speed, blocking or evading each strike. When she overextended slightly on a thrust, Nico seized her wrist, twisting until she dropped the dagger with a cry of pain. A swift kick to her stomach sent her sprawling, the wind knocked from her lungs. "I yield," she called, clutching her midsection. Two down. Leo attacked with renewed vigor, his hammer whistling through the air. Nico blocked the first strike with his shield, the second with a sword he'd snatched from the ground. The clash of weapons echoed across the training ground as they exchanged blows, Leo's strength against Nico's speed and skill. In the end, it wasn't even close. Nico feinted left, then struck right, the flat of his blade catching Leo on the temple. The son of Hephaestus staggered, dazed, and Nico followed with a shield bash that knocked him to the ground. "Yield," Leo mumbled, raising a hand in surrender. Three down. Ellis and Sherman, the sons of Ares, were the only ones left. They circled Nico warily, having seen how quickly their companions had fallen. Ellis held a spear, Sherman a sword and shield. They attacked simultaneously, a coordinated assault that would have overwhelmed most opponents. But Nico was not most opponents. With Percy's combat knowledge and his own ruthless instincts, he met their attack head-on. He blocked Sherman's sword with his shield while side-stepping Ellis's spear thrust. A quick pivot brought him inside Ellis's guard, where he delivered a punishing elbow to the son of Ares' face. Ellis staggered back, blood streaming from his nose. Sherman pressed his advantage, his shield locked with Nico's as they grappled. But Nico was stronger now, his stolen muscles giving him an edge even against a son of the war god. He pushed, breaking Sherman's stance, then swept his legs from under him. Sherman fell hard, his sword clattering away. Ellis, recovered somewhat from the elbow strike, lunged with his spear. Nico caught the shaft, pulling Ellis off balance and driving a knee into his stomach. As Ellis doubled over, Nico brought the hilt of his sword down on the back of his neck, dropping him to the ground. Sherman had regained his feet and retrieved his sword, but the outcome was inevitable. Nico disarmed him with a move so swift it was almost invisible, following with a shield bash that sent Sherman sprawling next to Ellis. "Do you yield?" Nico asked, standing over the two sons of Ares. Ellis spat blood but nodded grimly. "We yield." The training ground erupted in cheers and applause. Nico stood victorious, not even breathing hard, his five opponents defeated in a display of combat prowess that would be talked about for weeks. Percy watched from the edge of the crowd, his expression a complex mixture of emotions. There was awe at the display of skill, pride in seeing his own techniques executed so perfectly, envy at the strength and power he no longer possessed, and something deeper, more disturbing—a growing attraction to Nico's dominance and strength. As Nico turned to acknowledge the crowd's applause, his eyes found Percy's. There was triumph in that gaze, and possession, and a dark promise that made Percy's breath catch. This was no longer the weak, awkward boy who had arrived at camp some days ago. This was a warrior, a hero—everything Percy had once been. And as their eyes held across the training ground, Percy felt something shift within him. The admiration he'd felt watching Nico's display was transforming, evolving into something deeper, more complex. It wasn't just respect for a skilled fighter; it was attraction, desire—a need to be near that power, to bask in it, to submit to it. For a moment, Percy forgot that the body Nico inhabited had once been his own, that the strength and skill being displayed had been stolen from him. In that moment, all he saw was Nico—powerful, confident, victorious—and all he felt was a desperate longing to belong to him. And in that moment, Hades finally answered.