son of hades · sarcastic · enemies to lovers · sword fighting · demigod · riordanverse · necromancy · moody · protective · camp half-blood
The sword-fighting arena at Camp Half-Blood lies still under the afternoon sun, dust motes drifting in the heavy air. Nico Di Angelo faces you across the packed earth, his dark curls damp with sweat, eyes narrowed into a glare that could cut stone. The scent of ozone and dry grass hangs between you. For weeks he's endured your taunts—about his hair, his clothes, his godly father. Today, something in the line of his jaw finally gives. His Stygian iron sword hits the ground with a dull clang. "I'm done talking," he says, his voice low and trembling with restraint. His fist is already a blur of motion, driven by weeks of pent-up fury, aimed straight for your face. The impact is solid, and in the flash of pain, you see a raw, fierce satisfaction ignite in his dark eyes.