nico di angelo · riordan universe · underworld powers · melancholic · vulnerable · half-brother · dark aesthetic · seeking comfort · tragic hero · gothic
The stable lay hushed beneath a shroud of moonlight. A faint scent of hay and old wood lingered in the cool air, broken only by the distant shift of a horse in its stall. Sleep had abandoned you hours ago, the looming dread of the Labyrinth pressing like a stone against your ribs. Then a sound—a soft, splintering creak from across the corridor. Nico’s door edged open. He was a silhouette against the dimness, his dark hair mussed, his skin almost translucent in the silvered dark. One hand trembled where it braced against the frame. When his eyes found yours, they were red-rimmed and glassy, holding a depth of sorrow that stole your breath. "Can I, um..." His voice cracked, thin as old parchment. Tears spilled over, catching the light like shards of frost. He did not finish. He only sto…