"As he holds the sacred icons, and is crowned in this holy place, I present to you, king Nico of Hades."

Nico could felt sweat trickle down his back as the crowd cheered for him, calling his name over and over. Sealing his fate, nailing it down even more solidly with every voice gathered in the temple.

He turned back to the priest, who took the icons—the scepter and helmet, symbols of the kingdom of Hades—from Nico's hands, and placed the kingdom's crown, silver and gold woven together and embedded with obsidian stones, over Nico's dark locks. The final gesture, the final nail in his coffin.

And yet, Nico couldn't help but sigh in relief. The ceremony was almost over, and no one had noticed the flames on the candelabras around him, slowly flickering out, one by one. Nico had felt like someone would notice him glancing, watching at the shadows creeping ever closer to him.

One more excruciating minute of empty formulas, and it was over. The crowd—mostly nobility, from Hades and abroad—left the temple through the main entrance, but Nico slipped through a door to the side, weaving his way through the hallways into his personal quarters. There would be a feast, and a ball, of course, and Nico wanted every minute of calm and solitude he could get before he had to show up and endure the night.

A whole night. The thought made him dizzy, and he had to pause, on the edge of the inner gardens, leaning against a pillar to catch his breath. A vain effort—already shadows were creeping in, and the herb was slowly turning brown, then grey, then to dust, in an arc expending from him.

"Your Majesty!" a voice called out, sounding vaguely familiar to Nico's ears. "Nico? I saw you leave this way. Where are you?"

Go away. He had no idea who was looking for him—who could possibly be talking to him with such familiarity? The only answer that came to mind was not a pleasant one. Everyone who knew him as 'Nico' was dead, and most of them would probably haunt him now, on the day he was unjustly crowned.

The boy who walked past him, however, was flesh and blood. He was tall, much taller than Nico was, but he had a youthful face—he couldn't be any older than Nico, who had just turned twenty-one, of age to be crowned—with bright blue eyes and golden hair. His white uniform marked him as a court physician in training, but Nico didn't know him, of course: the court of Hades hadn't lived in the palace since Nico's sister had died.

He froze when he spotted Nico, still leaning against the wall, and Nico stared right back at him. He wished he could at least have control over his face, because he had no idea what the boy was seeing right now, and that thought was making him uncomfortable.

"Nico?" The inflection, once again, was familiar, as was the boy's raised eyebrow. His tentative smile wasn't—it was barely a smile at all, hesitant and shy.

But Nico recognized it anyway, and it was as though his heart was painfully squeezed by ghostly hands when he did. Thirteen years had done nothing to suppress the memory, it would appear. "Will?"

Will's smile solidified. His eyes briefly fluttered to Nico's face, and Nico could guess what he saw—the dark circles under Nico's eyes, his hollow jaws, and all the other traces of thirteen sleepless years. But then his gaze kept moving, studying Nico's outfit, his hair, his eyes. "You look good."

"You look better." The answer hadn't even come because of years of having politeness drilled into Nico's head. Will's skin sported a healthy tan, and his uniform was taut over lean muscles—nothing to rival a soldier's, but more than enough. Will had always been handsome, and he hadn't had to deal with years of sorrow and loneliness. "So you're a court physician, huh?"

Will grimaced. "In training. Whereas you're actually king now."

Nico couldn't help but smile—but it quickly faded, as he remembered everything that came with the coronation. The circumstances that had led to it, and the feast that awaited him. "Yes, I guess I am."

"It's been so long. What—" Will's voice died, and uncomfortable silence filled the air between them, and Nico had no idea what to say. Will had to have noticed Bianca's death was tied to the court being driven out of the royal palace. Everyone had. But explaining why…that was a lot more complicated. Of course, Will had known once, before Nico's parents had forced him to drink from the water of the Lethe. Just a sip, not enough to lose his whole identity, just so that he'd forget one particular night.

So he did what he always did—he deflected. He pushed himself away from the pillar, straightened his jacket, trying to get a hold of himself. "I should go." He hated how Will's eyes lowered—in disappointment or deference, Nico wasn't sure—but he continued. "I have to be ready for the feast, later."

"Of course. My apologies." A pause. "Your Majesty. Perhaps I will see you then?"

Nico hadn't considered that Will was invited, but of course he'd be. Why else would he be in the palace, in his uniform? "Perhaps." I hope so. But it'd be best if you don't.

Will bowed. It was a strange sight: Will had never shown deference to Nico, even when he was the crown prince and Will was only some courtesan's child. Then he left—more rigidly than he'd arrived, Nico noticed.

Nico glanced at the garden to his side. No more grass had died during his conversation with Will.

He took a deep breath. Maybe he could get through the night.

Only when he was standing on a dais in the palace's great hall did Nico realize he had never been to a ball in his life. He could dance, of course: he'd had tutors, though in recent years they'd been part of the small staff that still inhabited the palace. But he'd never had to. This was his first dance, and that would have made anyone nervous—and today, on his coronation day, all eyes were on him.

The feast itself was mercifully short, by Nico's own instructions, and Nico himself had shown up when it was almost over already. He couldn't have eaten anyway. And now, there he was, standing on an emptied dais as couples began to form on the floor in front of him.

He shouldn't have worried about dancing, though: even as dancers started to twirl around the great hall, a couple walked up to the dais, with a young woman in tow.

Next to Nico, a herald announced. "Lord Tristan and Lady Venus of Cythera." The couple bowed at the herald's words.

"Your Majesty," Lady Venus said. "I wanted you to meet our daughter, Piper." The girl curtsied, as if on cue. She was extremely beautiful—just like her mother, though she took most of her features after her father—and looked at Nico with a strangely puzzled expression.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Lady Piper." Nico bowed—a little, just as protocol dictated.

"The pleasure is all mine. Everyone was dying to meet the Prince of Hades. Well—King of Hades."

Nico chuckled. "I still have trouble getting used to the idea, myself."

Piper smiled at him, but the tension between them was barely defused, nor did her eyes lose their narrowed, puzzled look at him. It never wavered, but conversation was mercifully short, mostly because other couples wanted to talk to the newly-crowned king—and all of them had a son or a daughter to introduce to him. Some were less obvious about their curiosity towards Nico, some were even attempting to be charming. And of course, each of the parents managed to slip a mention of marriage in the conversation—never directed at Nico, but it never failed.

Truth was, Nico felt almost flattered by the attention. Of course, all they wanted to secure their child as Nico's consort, but it was more interest than Nico had ever garnered before. And yet, every time he considered a candidate—with one, in particular, the prince of Atlantis, Nico had almost asked him to dance, and damn the protocol—another candle flickered out on one of the chandeliers. No one noticed but Nico, but it was like a sign to him, like that potential future died like the candle.

Two hours into the ball, the crowd around the dais finally cleared, and Nico thought he was done having to deal with noble families attempting to set him up. And yet the herald spoke once more. "Prince Jason of Olympus."

A young man climbed up the few steps separating Nico from the crowd. One man, alone? Even princes and princesses had been accompanied by their parents—Nico wondered if the royals of Olympus were here at all. His curiosity was crushed when the prince reached him, however. Jason towered over him even as he bowed in front of Nico, his midnight blue suit tracing the strong lines of his body, and when he straightened again, Nico couldn't help but stare at his eyes—shifting grey-blue, evoking the sky to Nico. He didn't study Nico the way the others had, didn't seem impressed or intrigued.

Nico realized he had stared far too long, and bowed back to the prince. "A pleasure to meet you, Prince Jason."

A smile formed on Jason's lips, but he didn't return the greeting like all the others had. "I'm sure you must be bored witless after standing here for so long. Perhaps you'd like a dance?"

He held out a hand, covered in the same velvety, dark blue fabric as the rest of his suit. Nico knew he couldn't really refused, but he still felt his hands twitching as he reached out to take Jason's. He wore his own gloves, of course, but it didn't stop him from studying Jason's eyes closely when they touched. He stood still for a few seconds, and only when he saw the light wasn't fading from those eyes did he speak. "I'd love to."

Jason led him to the dance floor, and briefly hesitated there. Nico could guess why: by rank, Nico should be the one to lead, but it would be somewhat awkward considering their relative sizes, and few men were taught to follow someone else's lead. With a half-smile, he place his hand on Jason's hip, letting him lead. The prince smiled in relief almost immediately, and they started to dance.

"You're a good dancer, Your Majesty." His tone was solemn, but Nico could guess what he meant. A good dancer…for someone who'd been a shut-in for thirteen years.

Nico couldn't help but chuckle. "Just because I didn't host any ball doesn't mean I lived like a hermit in here."

"Still, what did the crown prince do of his time, all alone without anyone worthy of his friendship around?"

Nico frowned at his words. Nobility was arrogant, he knew that much, but it clashed with the air of gentleness that Jason gave off. And yet, he smiled now.

"Are you mocking me?"

"I'm mocking them," he said, nodding at…well, everyone else in the room. "Though I am curious what you did with your time."

"Why is that?"

"How else can I know who you are?"

Nico studied him. "So you want to know me?"

"Everybody does. They're all wondering why no one got to see you, of course. But none of them dares to ask, for fear they might offend you."

Nico chuckled again. "And then I wouldn't marry their offspring. But you don't care about offending me? Am I to conclude you've already lost interest in me, Prince Jason?"

"I would marry you if you would have me, because that's what my father sent me here for," he said. "As for interest…I can't lose something I don't have."

Nico looked away, but he was unable to hide his hurt. Nor was he able to contain it—on the edge of his awareness, he noticed the light dimming. He couldn't look up to the chandelier above them, but he would be surprised if half of its candles were still burning.

"I—"

"I understand." It was all Nico could do to keep his voice down. Keep it all in. The words that ruled his life. "You've been sent to marry, no matter what. Attraction doesn't have to play a part in it."

"That's not what I meant—"

"You don't need to appease my ego, Prince Jason. If anything, I appreciate your honesty."

Jason breathed in to speak again, but the song ended before he could, and Nico let go of his hands. He bowed to him, and practically rushed back to the dais. He heard Jason following after him, but he couldn't catch up through the crowd—several of which were the young scions Nico had met earlier, looking for their own dance, but unsure if they could approach him. Nico wondered how much showed on his face right now. At least Jason couldn't get to him, but he couldn't escape, either.

"Nico." A voice, familiar through the crowd. Nico's heart fluttered when he turned to face its source. Will cleared his throat, suddenly under as much scrutiny as Nico was. "I mean—King Nico."

"Will." He sighed in relief. "Dance with me."

Will frowned at the order, but he smiled nonetheless. "Of course." He took Nico's offered hand, and the crowd cleared around them somewhat, leaving them room to dance.

"Is—is everything okay?"

"Yes." Keep it all in. Keep him away, for his sake. "Just nervous." Nico realized they were touching, yet he hadn't checked Will's eyes to make sure he was safe. He looked up at Will, locking his eyes with the boy's, unable to look away.

"People are staring," Will whispered. He looked amused, but Nico could still see the uncomfortably twitch in his smile, the stressed vibration of his voice. Funny how he hadn't forgotten Will's mannerism after all this time—and that Will hadn't lost them, either.

"So are you," Nico teased.

Will instantly looked away. "I'm sorry. Your Majesty."

"Will." He looked back up. "I'm still Nico." He knew he should keep him away, but he couldn't bring himself to keep this up. "And I should be the one to apologize. I was rude, earlier."

"It's your big day. You had a lot on your plate."

"Still, I—"

The music stopped again, and a hand was laid on Nico's shoulder. "Your Majesty, may I have this dance?"

Nico started at the contact, and brushed the hand off—but he couldn't just ignore the newcomer. Mouthing an apology at Will, he turned to face him—some minor lord's son, Nico had forgotten his name. He hadn't looked interested in Nico earlier, but perhaps seeing the king dance with two men had bolstered every lord or lady who had brought their sons.

Nico danced with him, then another, half a dozen. With the last of them, Nico took the lead, for once. It was uncomfortable—this one didn't know how to follow, obviously—but when the music ended, Nico was right next to the dais, where his throne was waiting for him to sit down and rest. He could even refuse to dance some more if he was up there: no one could blame him for needing some time. No one knew what his stamina was, after all, since it was his first ball.

Nico never got up the steps, however. "Your Majesty." He froze at the gentle, begging voice from behind.

Prince Jason met his gaze when he turned, and took Nico's hand. "I haven't properly apologized to you yet."

"I told you; there's no need," Nico said. "You don't…want me, but you're still duty-bound to try and marry me." He couldn't keep his tone low anymore, and heads began to turn, but Nico didn't care. He was too tired, there were too many people around him, scrutinizing him, expecting from him. "I told you I understood. I even said I liked your honesty. What I don't like is your pity."

A few gasps around them made him realize he'd been a little too honest himself. But it was true: there was pity in those eyes. Jason's eyes—

They were darkening. One of them was, anyway, half of the iris turned to pure black, only distinguishable from the pupil because it was a shiny, glossy kind of black.

Nico gasped, and pulled his hand out of Jason's grip. His glove slipped, remaining stuck in Jason's hand, and Nico took a few steps back, only to fall on the stairs leading up the dais.

Keep it all in. Nico stared at his hand, and realized he'd failed. As he felt a familiar heat rush down his arms, all the way to his fingertips, all he could do was cry out, "Stay back!"

Power flowed from him, invisible to the eye, but everyone could feel it, and feel its origin. It wasn't something anyone had ever been able to explain—well, the few people who knew, at least—but all humans knew what it was. Death.

All remaining lights in the room were blown at once, even though there was no wind inside the great hall. And then, forming at Nico's feet, were ghosts. One at first, then two, then four, then too many to count, grey smoke and somber lights, dark grays and greens. In the absolute darkness of the room, their glow was the only source of light left, casting eerie colors and shadows over the horrified guests' faces.

Jason himself, however, was staring at Nico. Surprised, but…understanding. The puzzle was solved, Nico guessed, and Jason was just the first to figure it out. Even in the dark, all Nico could see was his right eye and its black half.

"A necromancer!" someone shouted, and Nico suddenly realized the position he was in. He scrambled to his feet, and rushed away, towards the door behind the dais. It led to servants' corridors, Nico knew: a perfect way to escape. None of the guests would know these passages well enough to follow him, and now that they knew who Nico was, what Nico was, Nico had to leave.

He shoved the door open, and heard someone call out after him. "Nico!" Will's voice. Nico didn't stop for him—or for any of the other shocked voices that were starting to ring in the great hall as he left.

He kept running, even as the lights went out in the corridors around him and more ghosts appeared. He'd forgotten about the ghosts—they were leaving his trail. Or so he thought: as he passed a turn leading into another hallway, he saw that it too was full of ghosts. Were the appearing everywhere now?

If the ghosts were spreading, if the shadows were spreading, all the more reasons to leave. What if someone died next? No person had ever been affected by him at a distance before, but then again, he'd never faced a disaster like this before.

It was a very short relief when he reached the palace's front gate, until his memory caught up with him. The last step of the coronation ceremony: a speech to the people of Hades's capital city. They were waiting for him, but it was too late to turn back now.

He exited through the gates, and the crowd cheered for him, asking for his blessing. It lasted all of a second, until the first ghost appeared. Then, they went silent; and when the second ghost came, they screamed.

Another scream followed from inside. "King Nico!" Nico didn't wait to see who it was, this time: he ran, the crowd parting for him—in fear or respect, he didn't care—and didn't stop until he was near the palace's outer wall. The gate was closed, he realized, and it would take forever to open. He thought of his other options, tripped as he turned around to try and leave by sea, and fell under the wall's shadow.

And then—the world vanished from around him.