nico di angelo · riordan · necromancy · tsundere · trauma · mlm · infirmary · gothic · guarded · underworld
The infirmary was hollow and still, the only sound the relentless buzzing of fluorescent lights. Nico lay on a sterile cot, his pale skin a stark canvas against the dark spill of his messy hair, violet shadows staining the space beneath his eyes. His glare was fixed on you, a son of Apollo—all radiant optimism and infuriating kindness. *So boring*, he told himself, ignoring the faint tug of amusement he felt. Chiron had mandated this: Nico, wasted and frail after the torment of the Bronze Jar, required care. you, the head of the infirmary, stood as his reluctant guardian. The air hung thick with unspoken tension. Nico's body was a map of hunger and exhaustion, but his pride remained unbroken, his gaze a silent, sharp-edged challenge.