Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/2594819.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Choose_Not_To_Use_Archive_Warnings, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      The_Vamps_(UK_Band), One_Direction_(Band), Union_J_(Band), The_Heroes_of
      Olympus_-_Rick_Riordan, Percy_Jackson_and_the_Olympians_-_Rick_Riordan
  Relationship:
      Zayn_Malik/Brad_Simpson, George_Shelley/Harry_Styles
  Character:
      Leigh-Anne_Pinnock, Original_Character
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe, Alternate_Universe_-_Mythology, First_Kiss, Anal_Sex,
      Public_Blow_Jobs, wow_this_is_vanilla_for_me
  Series:
      Part 82 of Chrissy's_Oneshots, Part 4 of Chrissy's_Mythologies_Oneshots
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-11-10 Words: 7516
****** Nyktophobia ******
by ZarryFTZouis
Summary
     nyktophobia - n. fear of darkness
     Brad is unique amongst his siblings and he doesn't exactly know what
     to do about Zayn.
Notes
     It's supposed to be longer but I like cliffhangers.
See the end of the work for more notes
Summer of 2009
Brad just sighs as he dangles his legs over the bridge that leads into Lake
Azure. It’s a week before the June Solstice and he feels so ignored.
He’s learnt of his heritage, that he is a demigod son of Greek god Apollo and
to say he was overwhelmed is an understatement.
Then again, it’s not every day you’re sat at your lunch table at your secondary
school and a hybrid of a human and a bull just bursts in and your school mates
think it’s a stray bull. He doesn’t remember how, but he managed to make a
temporary sling-shot and hit the Minotaur between its eyes with a plastic spoon
and faze it long enough to drive away.
After the eventful lunch, Brad returned home only to be greeted by then-black
and blue haired bloke who was super tall. He has been talking to his mum about
something and she looked so worried. Both of them explained to Brad that he’s
the ancient powers sort of borrowed from the Greek god Apollo, the God of
Archery, Sun, Poetry, Music and Prophecies. Brad wouldn’t have believed them
but how easy it was for Brad to hit that bull thing with the sling-shot may
have convinced him.
Then, as the tall bloke introduced himself as Mr. Ramsay, his life as a demigod
at Camp Ace began.
He learnt that demigods aren’t exactly a rare thing as Camp Ace has dozens of
demigods from all over Europe. The first demigod friend he made — whose name is
Katerina — is from Bulgaria and a daughter of Hecate. (Or Trivia, Brad isn’t
too sure of the goddess’ Roman name.) He wasn’t too sure if it was magic that
made her slightly-tanned skin and doe-brown eyes so beautiful, with the wavy
hair, or her natural beauty that sort of attracted him. He soon found out
Katerina was sort of dating the son of Mars, Avery.
Brad isn’t too fond of how Aphrodite/Venus kids think Lake Azure is sort of
their territory but with how they check their reflection off of the beautiful
lake every four seconds, Brad feels the intense need to leave the place.
“I thought an Apollo kid would be hiding his arse at the Archery Range,” a
smirking voice taunts Bradley. “Really, anyone would think you’re a fucking
pansy like the children of Aphrodite.”
“This is the only place I can really think, Marius,” Brad spits out at the
newcomer. “As a son of Mercury, haven’t you things to steal?”
“Let’s not get into stereotypes, since the most valuable I can steal is your
heart,” the ginger Irish demigod smirks physically. “I’d much rather have your
heart than some meaningless iPod or a hairbrush.”
“My heart is to stay untainted.”
With that, Brad stands up and leaves a flustered looking Marius behind.
 
It’s a ten-minute walk from the Lake to the Stables, a place Brad frequents. He
isn’t a skilled rider but he loves the feeling of wind brushing past his hair,
caressing it, as the pegasus takes him aboveground and makes him feel so
surreal. He takes Lapis out, his favourite mare. The pegasus has golden mane
and tail, unlike most pure-white pegasi. She snorts when Brad doesn’t greet her
with the usual sugar cubes and Brad hopes that doesn’t mean Lapis isn’t pleased
with Brad in language of horses. He hops onto her back and takes the rein in
his hand, then makes her soar into the sky.
Brad spreads his arms wide open, like he’s embracing the sky. He’s been at Camp
Ace for only three weeks but flying on the back of a pegasus can’t beat any
feelings. (The glee from his arrows striking their marks excluded.) Lapis is a
gentle pegasus and doesn’t beat her wings for a couple second so Brad doesn’t
fall from her back and break his neck.
 
He flies Lapis for about an hour before returning to the terrain. He pats
Lapis’ snout and returns to her stable.
“I like you more than all of the campers combined, Lapis,” he whispers as he
presses lips to her soft muzzle. “You don’t really bother me.”
-
Bradley can’t believe he didn’t notice how the sky was darkening when he gets
to the dining area. Mr. Ramsay fixes a hard gaze on him when he walks in but he
looks back to the book he’s reading. He shuffles towards the table designated
for the children of Apollo and his siblings mumble some greetings.
“Brad,” one of them, whose name Brad remembers as Leigh-Anne, says in a
chastising tone. “You didn’t show up to archery practice.”
“I was sort of busy,” Brad apologises. “Did the Hephaestus kids make my bow-gun
yet?”
Leigh-Anne fails at not cringing at the mention of Brad’s preferred weapon.
When he was about twelve — long before he knew he was a demigod — he went to a
weird version of laser tag where the players use a bow-gun loaded with rubber-
ended spikes. If you’re hit, you’re out for the round.
“Pylos, I think that’s his name, said they’re working on the finishing
touches,” Leigh-Anne smiles this time. “They’re trying to add the celestial
bronze to the tips of the spikes.”
“I feel sorry for them to make special weapons just for me,” Brad sighs. “I
wish the regular bows interested me as much as a stupid bow-gun does.”
“I know a couple Apollo kids who use crossbows so you aren’t entirely alone,”
Leigh-Anne pats Brad’s shoulders comfortingly. “C’mon, the dinner’s getting
cold.
 
Brad ate his dinner mostly in silence, not being able to get rid of the feeling
of being watched. He thinks it’s his paranoia since he’s new in the world of
the demigods. Maybe his Spidey-senses are going off like crazy just because
he’s in a different realm.
(Mr. Ramsay told Brad that Camp Ace is in its own realm, hidden from the mortal
world just by a portal in highlands of Scotland.)
Currently sat on his bed, Bradley looks at the amulet he’s had for as long as
he can remember.
It’s a simple silver chain with the little charm that looks like a pair of onyx
wings. His mum told him the day he was born, an unnamed god came for a visit
and told her the necklace was his. It holds the Eye of Hawk.
Coming to think about it, that god knew Brad was obviously a child of Apollo,
and somehow gave him something that’d boost his demigod talents. A part of him
wishes he knew the god personally so he can thank him.
He clasps his hand around the wings before drifting off to sleep.
-
Brad wakes up next morning just as the morning sun seeps through the curtains.
With the disadvantage of sleeping on the top bunk, he gets the stream of pale
golden rays directly in his face.
“Brad?” He hears on of his siblings — Eoghan? — and just grumbles in reply.
“We’ve got a new kid and he sort of needs a tour and everyone sort of ditched
so you’re on duty.”
“Last I checked, giving tours is a senior demigod’s duty,” Brad growls.
Currently, a demigod who’s twenty years old holds that title for his siblings.
“I’ve only been here for three weeks, and only twelve years old.”
“Three weeks is just enough for you to know where the important things are at,”
Eoghan scowls at Brad. “And you owe the Hephaestus/Vulcan kids for making them
craft your bow-gun.”
 
Twenty minutes later, Brad is trudging towards the entrance/portal of the Camp.
He can see that Mr. Ramsay is still talking to the newcomer.
“–you can see why that’s a problem,” the taller, immortal demigod is saying.
“We aren’t really okay with that.”
“Oh dear,” Brad says out loud, letting the other know he’s here. “A demigod
who’s been here for an hour and already in trouble. What more can I say?”
“Watch it, Simpson,” Mr. Ramsay growls out. “Say hello to Zayn. He’s a son of
Venus.”
The way Mr. Ramsay’s voice falter just a bit makes Bradley question why.
“Fluffy hair you’ve got,” Brad sighs at the comment he always gets from newly
acquainted people. “I’m Zayn and you are?”
“Brad, son of Apollo,” Brad manages to smile and extends an arm, which the
other shakes. He ignores how unusually warm the other’s hand is. “I’m sort of
in charge of getting you a tour of this place ‘cos the others ditched and I’m
the only one who doesn’t have excuses.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t mind at all.”
 
They walk in silence other than the leaves rustling under their feet, or the
dryads giggling as they walk by. Nymphs or not, a child of Aphrodite is a
magnet to anyone owning eyes. (Or eye, if you’re a Cyclops working underwater
at Poseidon’s forge.) Brad feels the attraction but he’s stamping that down.
(Yeah, his half-hard dick from just the thought of him kissing Zayn is a good
indication he is fighting off the urge to dry-fuck the older lad.)
“Lake Azure?” Zayn reads the little sign that has the name written in both
Greek and Latin. “Please don’t tell me that’s where my siblings spend the
entire day watching their reflections.”
“You got that stereotype of an Aphrodite kid right,” Brad sniggers. “But sadly,
it is. The colour of the water is a beauteous shade of blue, hence the name.”
“Did a demigod create this realm?” Zayn asks Brad, taking him by surprise. “You
told me this is in its own realm, an off-plane place from the mortal world.”
“You’ve heard of Camp Half-Blood in the New World, right?” Zayn nods. “It works
in the same way. They got a little barrier so that the mortals can’t find them
and with us, there’s a portal traceable by demigods and monsters in the
highlands of Scotland. The location of the portal changes every 8 hours, making
harder for a monster to invade us. For a demigod, we live here most of the time
so that’s not a problem.”
“Can I..?” Brad knits his eyebrows together and flushes red when he realises
how close their faces are. This close, he can focus on actual features of Zayn,
not blinded by the general attraction, and drinks in the raven-black hair
that’s slightly on the long side, the long eyelashes that are thick, plump lips
and amber eyes that just hold every shade of brown known to men.
Brad wasn’t prepared for the electric jolt that runs down his spine when their
lips meet. Zayn is older than Brad and maybe had his share of kissing blokes
and birds but this is aces. Zayn’s lips feel softer than they appear to be and
it’s nice how they set up a simple rhythm of harmony. Purely by instinct, Brad
cups Zayn’s neck just as he feels a slight pressure on his cheek.
They kiss for a couple minutes until they run out of breath and Brad just
stares at the other lad.
His first kiss was with a bloody child of Love and he loved every second of it.
-
Two weeks passed ever since Zayn waltzed into his life and he likes his life at
the Camp just a tab bit more. His bow-gun with the celestial bronze-shafted
spikes are ready and he can see how his siblings look at him with the unusual
choice of weapon. They prefer the older, familiar longbows but screw them,
they’ve all got their preference.
And just today, Mr. Ramsay announced they’re sort of expecting a guest from the
New World. Brad still thinks he imagined the way Zayn’s eyes flashed to stygian
black when that was mentioned.
 
At the stables, Brad is waiting for Zayn and when he hears footsteps, he turns
around with a smile.
Except it’s not who he expected.
A scrawny kid about the age of twelve is staring at him with dark eyes, with
Latin feature of dark skin and dark hair. Brad hasn’t seen all the campers so
maybe this kid is Italian with his mortal parentage.
“You look smaller in person,” the newcomer sounds cynical even without trying.
“I was looking for someone else, a distant cousin, if you will.”
“That’d be me,” Zayn appears out of nowhere — literally nowhere — and that
successfully startles Brad. “Brad, I’m sorry to do this to you but you won’t
remember you saw Nico di Angelo. You waited for me to come to the stables for
an hour but I stood you up.”
Everything fades into darkness after that.
-
Brad feels like he’s floating and maybe the fact that he’s dreaming contributes
to that.
He also thinks this isn’t a normal demigod dream since he’s looking at a winged
Zayn.
Zayn looks regal with stygian iron-wrought full-suited armour and stygian iron
spear. He looks like an avenging god with his stygian black wings that match
his outfit completely.
His eyes, no longer a nice shade of golden-brown, are unearthly shade of amber
Brad hasn’t seen in anyone’s eyes.
Anyone mortal for that matter.
“Little son of Apollo gifted with foresight, eh?” The creature that resembles
Zayn says with a loud, dark, cold laughter. “You’ll figure out who I really am
in time but for now, you must sleep.”
-
Brad comes to life with a loud gasp, not sure what he’d as a dream. He
remembers the caress of dark wings, and a voice that manages to haunt him in
the waking world.
“Brad?”
He turns his head to see Zayn and a skinny kid with super dark eyes.
He also notices how he’s in the infirmary.
“You sort of passed out and I had to carry you here,” Zayn supplies, his eyes
narrowed. “And this is Nico, the kid Mr. Ramsay mentioned.”
“The New World demigod?”
“Technically, I’m a Greco-Italian,” Nico points out. His hair is long and even
darker than Zayn’s. “And the Camp I sort of escaped from doesn’t know this
place exists. Well, other than Chiron, of course.”
“He’s a child of the Underworld, which is why he carries a stygian iron dagger,
not a celestial bronze or imperial gold weapon,” Zayn adds. “According to this
little guy, only the Blood of Hades can wield stygian iron.”
“Thank you for making me sound so ancient,” Nico sighs in a defeated way. “The
metal will suck in the life force of other demigods, or so I’ve heard.”
“Why are you here?” Brad asks the obvious. “You aren’t here to lecture us on
things that we know.”
“I travel a lot,” Nico answers vaguely. “And I just learn things faster than
the others.”
“You want to prevent something from happening,” Brad guesses. He also guesses
that Nico’s appearance has to do with his dream. “And you need our help.”
 
 
Two years later
“C’mon, Bradley, it won’t hurt anyone!” Zayn tries to persuade Brad again.
“It’s just one outdoors sex.”
Brad is stood in the Forest of Frigga, the forest named after the Norse
goddess. He can’t remember of what. It’s the start of winter and he’s dressed
in warm dark green jumper and jeans with inner lining of furry-feeling fabric.
“Um, I think someone might walk in on us,” Brad says with little enthusiasm.
“It’s thirty minutes to curfew, one of the patrol might catch us.”
“What are they going to do if we are? Throw us out of Camp?” Zayn scoffs.
Brad still doesn’t understand Zayn after two years of knowing him. The fact
that two of them are sort of dating doesn’t help at all.
Really, Zayn is as unpredictable as a wildfire and has an aura of mystery
surrounding him.
“Fine, but make it quick.”
Before long, Brad’s back is pressed into the moss-covered ground and he thinks
he feels a twig against his bare arse. He also feels something cold creeping
into the scene they’re in.
“I know what I’m doing,” Zayn whispers against Brad’s lips before kissing him
hungrily. After two years of kissing, Zayn’s kisses still fear otherworldly.
There isn’t a word that perfectly describes how controlling his sort of
boyfriend  can be just by kissing. His soft lips pry Brad’s own one without
much effort — not that Brad was resisting — and he feels the familiar spiking
motions of his long tongue. Zayn’s hand trek up to the small of Brad’s back and
stays there, making Brad feel secure despite his dreams. Soon, Zayn’s other
hand move down to the part of Brad that needs the most attention, half-hard
from the desire-driven kiss they’re sharing. Zayn smirks against his lips and
thumbs over his slit that’s bubbling with pre-cum. Brad whimpers into the kiss,
a desperate, needy sound. Zayn’s kisses get sloppier by seconds and they start
descending from Brad’s lips. Zayn just chuckles, kissing and sucking onto the
soft spot located at the juncture of Brad’s neck between the jaw and the base
of his neck. He needn’t a mirror to see that there’s a bruising shape there
now. Zayn licks and kisses his way further south, a gasp emitted from Brad when
he feels a wet heat lapping at his slit. The calloused hand moves down to the
crown of his shaft, making him even harder if that was possible.
Brad feels the wetness caressing his head before it envelops the other part of
his dick. It’s a nice feeling, both physical and emotionally, having the only
person you love as the only lover you’ll ever get and knowing something so dark
about that person. He can’t concentrate on forming words as the wetness and
warmth surround the entirety of his dick though. Zayn isn’t a child of Venus,
the Goddess of Love and Sexual Rapture for nothing. Virgin or experienced, it’s
a well-known fact her children are expert on pleasuring the others. Brad knows
Zayn sleeps with other people than Brad (couple girls from Ares/Mars sector and
maybe one or two from his own half-siblings) but he also knows Zayn sort of
loves him too. Zayn’s nose prods against Brad’s balls and that’s enough of a
cut-off of all coherent thoughts. Zayn starts to move his head up and down,
starting a slow tempo of his movements. Brad is too gentle to fuck Zayn’s mouth
and lets Zayn do all the works. Zayn keeps making the sound you make when your
airway is halfway constricted by something and that helps Brad release down his
sort of boyfriend’s throat down quickly.
“Liked that?” Zayn smirks as he wipes some of his spittle away, then fully
presses his weight down onto Brad. The kiss is too frantic to be classified as
one, just two sets of lips mashing in a frenzy.
 
Somewhere along the way, Brad ends up on top of Zayn’s lithe body and he can
feel both their erections rubbing off. Brad is still sensitive as the aftermath
of one of the most intense orgasms in his life (the fear of getting caught
helped loads) but he’s up for round 2. He lines their dicks together and starts
to jerk them off, hoping the pre-cum on Zayn’s slit is enough. They both pant
their breaths, Zayn’s eyes half-hooded, and Brad leans close to reattach their
lips when he hears a loud whistle.
“Fuck,” Zayn says intelligently.
 
Ten minutes later, at Mr. Ramsay’s headquarters, Brad thinks for the thousandth
time that night that he really shouldn’t listen to the son of Venus. Really,
for last two years, everything he’s done with Zayn borderlines with illegality.
“The dryad, kid,” Mr. Ramsay is sounds remarkably composed despite seeing both
the younger demigods naked and about to fuck. “She says she never wanted to
witness anything like that but she knew that she had to tell me.”
“And?” Zayn sounds as defiant as ever.
“Zayn, you were next in line as the senior demigod of your siblings but now
that title goes to George,” Brad knows that George was practically born in Camp
Ace. “And as for you, Simpson…”
“No, my position is the only thing I have as something I can hold as leverage
over the others!” Brad is panicking. He can’t lose his position as a senior
Apollo child. “Mr. Ramsay, I’m begging you.”
“It wasn’t just a dryad who caught you,” Mr. Ramsay growls. “Liam saw the two
of you sneaking out of the Divine Forest.”
Well, this is just as I foresaw, Brad sighs. Didn’t know about Zayn though. I
need to ask my father about how to control the visions,ifhe ever speaks to me
in a dream.
-
Two years and Brad still finds his innermost fear — well — fearful.
Two years of dreaming about the all-consuming darkness is enough to make him
fear its existence.
It’s always the same for Brad. He is stood at a moor, nothing but tall grass
and wind whistling through and suddenly, the winged creature descends.
There isn’t a word to describe the winged being, at least for Brad. All he
remembers and sees is a tall person, with ethereal eyes and wings as dark as
the starless night sky. The wings of darkness, as he calls them, embraces him
and the winged creature says one thing.
“No matter how hard you try to run, little prophet, Darkness always triumphs.
But with you, my little crow, you are the one who’ll uncover me.”
-
“No, Zayn, you don’t love me!” Brad wants to rip the other demigod’s arms off
and beat him with it. “You can never say it, can you? You’re too self-absorbed
to notice anything around you! You fuck anyone that breathes the oxygen and
don’t care that I fell in love with you.”
“I can’t love anyone, not as a rule.” There are tears in the voice of the child
of Love. “You either build someone with love or destroy. With you, all I’ve
done is destroy.”
“Fuck you, Malik. Without love, I will make sure your deepest secret is
uncoveredthis I swear on my immortal soul.
 
Three years later, present time (where I left off in “Pistanthrophobia”)
 
Brad is shite with keeping his promises.
Zayn promised that he’ll never let go of the shred of humanity he has, which
takes form of Brad — the love he has for the Apollo demigod. Brad wants to
believe that with how they are officially boyfriends and public with it, maybe
it’s time he revoked his oath he swore three years ago.
As a child of Apollo, Brad knows that much like sunlight and veracity, oaths
are hard things to break or undo.
Apollo is often compared to light, as sunlight is essence of light and Brad
knows, by now, that light is one thing that is truthful. Honest.
Over the course of five years, Brad improved with his rare gift of prophecy and
he now knows the ‘angel’ that appeared in his dreams/nightmares is Zayn. His
dreams tell him that Zayn isn’t a demigod, not really, but the Earthly
incarnation of Anubis.
Now, Hades is a Greek god but over the years and different cultures of the
world, he is revered in so many forms and the Egyptian form/counterpart is that
of Osiris.
Brad isn’t saying that Hades and Osiris is the same deity but he’s saying that
Zayn is somehow possessing the body of a Venus kid and started manipulating
everyone.
Starting with the Shelley kid, of course.
Zayn said that he found a ‘note’ from George saying he left the Camp with Harry
in search of the Yggdrasil. It’s a fable amongst the older Norse demigods. Brad
sort of knew that Harry was a son of Ægir, the Nordic sea god.
“Gods, I’m praying to my father knowing he won’t reply to me,” Brad sighs. He’s
sort of secluded himself at the Alter of Apollo in the Divine Forest, a sacred
place for all the children of Apollo. He’s been conducting a little ceremony
only the truest Apollo kids know. It’s a method long forgotten, something Brad
found in an ancient scroll.
Basically, a child of Apollo can seclude himself from the outside world and
pray to his father, his godly parent and patron, for guidance. On the third
day, the god may grant the wish and show himself.
“Should I give up?” Brad looks at the candles that are only couple inches above
the ground. “You never cared about me.”
Brad just stood up when there’s a flash of bright light.
“I really hate the Greeks,” comes a feminine voice. “Really, I want to question
myself why I even bother.”
The goddess is certainly not ahe and she looks really ticked off. She has the
same golden hair Brad’s seen on Apollo but she isn’t wearing human clothes like
the Greek god of Prophecies. She’s dressed in a warrior’s armour, the only
thing that indicates her female characteristics being her breastplate.
“My knowledge on Nordic gods is practically non-existent but my good guess is
that you’re Freyja,” Brad ventures a guess and soon gets greeted by an inhuman
shriek. “Or not.”
“For centuries, you mortals screw up my name with that bitch!” The goddess is
glowing and that’s not a good sign, nope. “I’m Frigga, the wife of Odin and
certainly not some bitch who likes gardening and thinks she’s prettier than
everyone!”
“Miss Frigga — Mrs, I haven’t a care — this ceremony is for me to meet my
father, not a Norse goddess,” Brad tries a careful tone now. “And you certainly
aren’t my dad.”
“There’s a reason why he didn’t show up, Bradley Simpson,” the goddess’ amber-
green eyes narrow. “Anubis’ incarnation isn’t just inhabiting a demigod’s body,
he’s also inhabiting the child who can become a god on his own rights.”
“And that’s important how?” Brad forgets for a millisecond that he’s supposed
to be courteous. “And why are you here?”
“You know Ægir’s bastard,” Frigga growls, a sound that isn’t too pretty.
“Harry, he calls himself?”
“I need to hear something that makes sense.”
“I’m a goddess of foresight, nothing I say makes sense,” Frigga laughs
sarcastically. “But in plain words, my little prophet, neither Harry nor Zayn
will stay as a mortal demigod by the end of next equinox.”
“The next equinox… the September one will happen in mere two weeks’ time!” Brad
isn’t good with dates but he keeps tracks on a thing or two. “What are you
saying, Frigga?”
“‘The son of Apollo heeds to the call
To West or East he must fall
At the feet of Death
One must take his last breath.’”
“Did you just order a prophecy?” Brad asks the goddess; she smiles at the
demigod. “You can’t do that! You’re supposed to tell me the answers I’m looking
for!”
“That was the answer, my child,” Frigga dips his head down to press a ghost of
kiss to his forehead. “I’m sure Apollo is proud of you if he sees you.”
With another flash of light, the Norse goddess is gone.
-
“I still think this plan won’t work!”
The old, wiser son of Ægir just sighs as he talks to Death. He shares a weird,
deranged friendship with Zayn, as he prefers to be called, and he hates the
cocky son of a bitch.
Zayn is a legacy of Arawn, the Gaelic god of the Dead, and that’s only from the
body he’s possessing. On his own, he is known by many names — Thanatos, Grim
Reaper, Soul Collector… but he likes being the oldest, maybe the most, by the
name of Anubis.
“Keeler,” Zayn uses his real name, the one he’s forsaken a long time ago. “You
know the inevitable.”
“You already have my brother locked up and I must say, you did a good job of
hiding your true identity from me for a really long time. When you interrupted
me and Harry, I thought you were one of the Cult wanting to re-form Gaea,” Josh
— or Keeler, as he was named — smirks. “I thought you weren’t one from the
Sept.”
Zayn smiles at the immortal. Millennia of knowledge and memories don’t compare
to how he’s re-acquainted with one of the primal gods.
Keeler used to be a Phoenician god, the ultimate God of Vengeance, but he was
killed by his nemesis, Noir. Zayn remembers his own time as a young god,
Anubis, and reading the scrolls of the primordial times. Not all the pantheons
remember the constant fight between Light and Darkness but Greeks and Egyptians
do. Zeus, that sodding bastard, forbid his subjects to ever mention the
primordial but Ra never did.
“I made Harry believe I’m truly his half-brother but the stunt you pulled sort
of revealed my true intent,” there’s so much malice in Keeler’s words. “I want
to avenge myself.”
“Noir was wrong to kill you,” Zayn concedes. “But I want Brad out of the
picture before we get into details.”
“Love only brings you down, Anubis,” Keeler growls out. “The first time you
were around as Anubis, before other aspects of you came around, you were
enamoured with some mortal girl. You fucking fell in love with her and wanted
to grant her immortality. Can you imagine it? The god of funerals, the guide to
death, falling for a mere child?”
“You killed her,” Zayn grits. “Which is why I don’t want you to kill Brad. He’s
a prophet, a truer one than you’ll ever be.”
“And that’s why I need him in our plan.”
-
“You’re crazy, Bradley,” Leigh-Anne scoffs. “You can’t possibly ask me to
abdicate as the senior member of our siblings and just reinstate you as the new
one!”
“Leigh, I need to tell you something I never told anyone,” Brad is dead serious
about telling the only sibling of this Camp his deepest secret. “You’ve heard
of prophets, right?”
“The last prophet of the Apollo bloodline died in the London Fire of 1666,”
Leigh-Anne frowns. “You can’t be telling me–”
“I’ve been having dreams,” Brad insists. “And 95% of them came true ever since
I’ve foreseen them. I knew I was going to lose my title to you the night Zayn
blew me in Forest of Frigga. I knew that Harry and George was going to
disappear on their own. And I sure as hell knew that you were planning on
snogging that Jesy girl at Lake Azure tomorrow.”
“I haven’t told anyone that I’m kissing Jesy, never mind going on a date with
her,” Leigh-Anne realises Brad isn’t making things up. “How did you acquire
this skill?”
“I wasn’t sure at first, Leigh,” Brad doesn’t care that his words seep with
desperation. “I just dreamt of a tall, immortal person with wings but I didn’t
know that was going to be someone closest to me.”
 
About an hour later, Brad finishes summarising his entire knowledge. He skips
out on how Zayn is possibly an incarnation of a primordial god but he doesn’t
want to scare his only ally.
“You’re telling me that some deranged demigods actually want Gaea back to
life?” Leigh-Anne gets the point perfectly. “She wanted to kill us!”
“She wanted to re-create the world so you’re technically wrong on that,” Brad
offers a weak smile. “But yeah, Mr. Ramsay has been hiding a lot of shite from
us.”
“But the whole Norse pantheon thing is over the ledge, sorry for the slight
pun,” Leigh-Anne curls a strand of her hair around her perfectly manicured nail
(finger). “Like, the Thor stuff and Odin stuff are real?”
“My powers include archery and foresight, not the theology expertise,” Brad
growls at his sister, the only sibling he really liked talking to over last
five years. “Didn’t you think it was the slightest bit strange Zayn just
dropped out of nowhere?”
“He’s a son of Venus with scary-ass aura,” some children of Apollo can sense
auras like the Children of the Underworld. “How does he tie into this?”
“He’s apparently a legacy of Hades,” Brad deadpans. “I’ve seen him use the
hellfire — no offense to Hades — and that was wee bit scary.”
“The flame of the underworld?” Leigh-Anne isn’t an airhead senior demigod for
Apollo. “That’s something only the strongest demigod child of Hades-slash-Pluto
can do!”
“And Zayn happens to double as a Child of Underworld who can wield that power,”
he still won’t tell Leigh-Anne that Zayn is also Anubis or some shite like
that. “Imagine a monster stumbling upon Zayn, with the looks of a child of
Aphrodite, and being burnt to a puddle because of Zayn’s powers.”
“Why do you need my help?” Leigh-Anne narrows her dark eyes. “I can’t give up
my seat in the Senior Council!”
“With that advantage, I can alert our friends here from Mr. Ramsay’s horrible
brainwash.”
-
Harry doesn’t know how long it has been since Zayn and Josh — or Keeler — sent
him and George to this godforsaken place. This is how exactly he’s expected
Tartarus to be, only with more monsters, yeah.
“I’m gonna die,” George proclaims dramatically. “Harold, you told me that
you’re capable of transcending through dimensions and realms?”
“Josh locked that power from me just as he hurtled me over the portal,” Harry
wants to kill his half-brother. “I’m only useful around water.”
“Please tell me you can purify that,” George jerks his chin in direction of the
putrid pool. “I think water is more important than actual food.”
Harry rolls his eyes and crouches beside the small pool. The pungent odour of
rotting water is too much for his water-friendly body but he ignores that. He
submerges his hand in the water and curses as the water fights him. He orders
himself to brace it and manages to get the water clean, the toxins evaporating
in his body.
“I don’t think I can thank you enough,” George presses his pink lips to Harry’s
cheek, a chaste action. “And you know how I feel about you.”
Harry bloody well knows that George is in love with him and he loves George
back. The little problem is that in sense of the Greeks, he is the child from
the Big Three, which loosely translates into how much of a time bomb he really
is. He can easily tear apart the entire Camp without even trying.
“Water is the key to survival, but our bodies will shut down without an actual
supply of food,” George adds once his dry lips are moist from the water. “I
don’t see anything we can hunt here.”
“I only have three packages of emergency ambrosia left and we aren’t even
injured,” Harry sighs. “We don’t eat these for sustaining our lives like the
gods.”
“These desperate times call for desperate measures,” Harry argues and divides
the ambrosia into little squares. “One piece a day would be just enough not to
kill us.”
“Where are we?” George pouts the words.
“My realm, little demigods,” a feminine voice replies. Instinctively, Harry
whips his head around.
“Skadi,” Harry growls at the goddess. “What have you with us?”
“You’ve always been my least favourite nephew, believe me,” the goddess — Skadi
— sighs, her breath coming like vaporised frost. “I’m here to aid you.”
“Unless you can restore Harry’s powers of teleportation, you can’t,” George
hasn’t the policy of being 80% honest, that’s the thing. “And real food us
mortals can eat.”
Skadi smiles and within a blink of an eye, there’s a table full of food Harry
and George wanted for so long. He can see his favourite meal of creamy tomato
soup with onion, as well as George’s favourite Peking duck.
 
They eat in silence, the blizzard seemingly dodging around them. Harry knows
it’s the trick of the goddess. Two immortal wolves, who are also her sons,
flank the goddess.
“Thank you for helping us,” George is more polite on full stomach. “But my
lady, why are you doing this?”
“Have you heard about the primordial gods?”
Harry’s heart sinks at the mention of the primordial gods. They are the first
gods, before the complications of pantheons and rules appeared. Chaos was the
source of everything and after Chaos began life. Gaea is the most benevolent
primordial goddess and that’s saying a lot. Some primordial gods like Noir, the
Personification of Darkness, wanted to kill the others.
Thankfully, Gaea had help from Hypnos and Erebus, putting them all to sleep.
And demigods think Mother Earth is the worst.
“You know the truth about Josh — Keeler — don’t you?” Harry’s guts feeling
intensifies when the goddess nods her head. “You thought you could try to
restore the balance by making me an immortal.”
“That’s a bit hard given the current position,” George’s eyes glint like dark
amber-hued pools. “It’s like you never considered what I possess.”
-
Brad knows he’s running out of time and the shadows are closing in on him as he
avoids Zayn at all costs. His dreams shifted, from the dark wings caging him
in, to eternal darkness around him. Isolating him.
“You’re really shitty, you know that?” The other friend Brad has in the camp,
Elijah, scoffs as he lights up a fag. “You’re asking a son of Nemesis to help
you with something.”
“Well, I’m out of options,” Brad replies. “You’re the second person I told
about my gift of foresight.”
“And you’re dumb enough to,” Elijah grins. “You can’t trust anyone you’ve known
for a while.”
“I trust you tad bit more than other idiots here,” Brad replies with a sigh.
“And I told you a million times not to smoke around me!”
“Like a give a shit,” Elijah flicks the ash towards Brad. “You didn’t just come
up to me so we can chat about the world possibly ending and my bad habits.”
“You want to make a right choice, I reckon?” Brad stares into Elijah’s mossy
green eyes. “You’ll save the world, not raze it.”
“Get to the fucking point, Simpson.”
“When the time is right, I’ll call for you.”
 
To say the least, the talk with Elijah was a disaster and Brad makes a b-line
towards the Archery Range. He gets a normal bow from the shed when he hears the
footsteps. Habits kick in and he aims his bow at the newcomer.
“One week of avoiding me and now you’re trying to kill me?” Zayn smirks, he
bloody smirks like he was born to do that. “I thought you were killed off by
the Sept.”
“The Sept is powerless without George, you should know this better than me,”
Brad wants to kick himself in the nuts for falling in love with Anubis/Zayn.
“He is the final part in the equation.”
“I love you, Brad,” Zayn closes the distance between them. “It’s hurting me to
do this.”
“Then don’t help the primordial gods rise to their formal glory,” Brad stands
on his tiptoes, letting their lips graze. “Let the Phoenicians do what they
were born to do.”
Phoenician gods are anti-primordial and nemeses of the later. Brad knows that
Keeler is a Phoenician god trapped inside the body of an eight-hundred-years-
old demigod. Unlike most Phoenicians who got killed or put into indefinite
amount of slumber, Keeler managed to hide from the primordial for millennia, if
not older than Chaos itself.
“I’m Anubis,” Zayn grits out. Brad hates it when Zayn brings that up. “I’m a
god of Death, I can’t feel love for you.”
“But you are also Zayn, the same demigod my heart has fallen for all those
years ago,” Brad smiles up at his only love, caressing his cut jawline. “I love
you, and I revoke the curse I put on you, this I swear on my immortal soul.”
The magical bind that put the curse on Zayn lifts and fades away but Brad knows
that’s not why they’re here. He merely initiates the kiss, garnering a
surprised gasp from his lover.
Kissing Zayn never changed over five years, in the retrospect. The only new
concept is that they both know they are in love, no matter how much the walls
are closing in on them. Brad smiles into the kiss, feeling the familiar warmth
of Zayn’s hand on the small of his back. Zayn is a soft lad, unlike his bad boy
exterior, and Brad fucking loves that. There isn’t any rush in their kiss, just
renewing their feelings for each other, and he tackles Zayn to the ground.
The falling part of the snogging session isn’t grand but how Zayn lets Brad be
in charge is refreshing. He didn’t want to have a grind in their reunion but
his hormones are overriding his priorities. He needs this, the feeling of
belonging, and kissing Zayn feels so right.
 
Clothes come off one by one and Brad blushes how the setting sun beautifully
illuminates Zayn’s naked body. His eyes are burning like twin ambers whilst the
stark inks on his body make him look so fearless. Powerful.
Undeniably sexy.
“I love you,” Brad whispers as he grabs the base of Zayn’s shaft and eases the
hole inside of himself. “So much.”
“Amo,” Zayn replies in Latin.
The stretch is too much, and maybe that’s because he hadn’t sex in last couple
months. He couldn’t allow himself to have sex with Zayn when the Sept were
trying to recruit him as well as the missing George. Brad feels the tip of Zayn
hitting his prostate, causing him to gasp from the intense pleasure. He rotates
his hips in a teasing manner, which Zayn growls at. Brad only smirks, mirroring
Zayn from before, and starts to move his hips up and down. His movements are
shallow and fast, barely enough to make anyone race to the finish line, and
Brad loves the fury snapping in Zayn’s eyes. Gradually, Brad increases his
speed and depth of the movements, the little jabs at his prostate enough to
make him moan in a pornstar-esque way. Zayn decides he’d enough and flips them
around, throwing Brad’s legs over his shoulders from the get-go. The way Zayn
ploughs into Brad is unbelievably erotic, enough to make him come in spurts.
Zayn releases his seeds inside Brad almost immediately afterwards, with a
giggling Brad.
“That was the best sex yet,” Brad takes a rag for cleaning the arrow shafts and
wipes his come off of himself. “But I still want you to reconsider.”
“The Sept didn’t realise George’s part in this, which is why I sent him off in
Skadiheim with Harry,” Zayn throws Brad’s joggers towards him. “But yeah, I
think I’m going to side with the Phoenicians this time.”
“This time?” Brad knits his eyebrows together. “You’re Anubis.”
“I’m a reborn god-slayer,” Zayn replies with so much calm, it scares Brad. “I
thought you knew.”
-
“George Paul Shelley,” Harry starts the tic in his jaw. “What have you been
hiding?”
“I didn’t know!” George protests. “The dreams didn’t come to me before I came
to this realm!”
The goddess, Skadi, watches the demigod with a bemused look on her face.
“What dreams?”
“The Sept is real,” George rambles on. “The Sept is a group of demigods who are
also reborn from the Phoenician gods.”
“The Sept is useless without all the members of the Phoenician gods,” Skadi
inputs. “From what I’ve heard from my supplicants, only four out of the
original nine are found.”
“Zayn, Keeler and Harry?” George ventures a guess. “Oh c’mon, Haz. It’s bloody
obvious you’re from the Sept.”
“Yeah, but I’m the youngest in the Sept, unless you come in,” Harry refutes,
his cheeks colouring a dark shade of red. “The Sept are the nemeses of the Cult
of Gaea, you know that from your dreams?” George nods. “We want to stop the
Cult from awakening the other primordial like they did with her. With luck, we
can stop them in time.”
“Only four out of nine,” Skadi reminds the demigods. “You’ve only until the
Solstice to stop the Cult from awakening Noir.”
“Noir?” George is confused.
“The Personification of Darkness.”
-
“Tomorrow is the June Solstice,” Brad is currently yelling outside Mr. Ramsay’s
villa/headquarters. “As a bloody Phoenician, you should be aware today is your
last chance!”
“For love of all thing godly,” Mr. Ramsay actually appears right in front of
Brad, looking pissed off. “Can you be any louder?”
“I know a Phoenician,” Brad knows he needs full attention from the former
Phoenician. “I think you know the other five too.”
“Zayn is a Phoenician slash god-slayer,” Mr. Ramsay studies his nails. “And I
know you got a prophecy from Frigga.”
“Bring–”
Brad wasn’t prepared to be sent to another fucking realm so the cold bothers
him a-fucking-lot. He sees the familiar shapes of Harry’s unruly curls and
George’s tamed ones.
“Did Zayn send you here?” Harry arches a brow; Brad shakes his head no.
“We need all nine Phoenicians,” Brad starts, surprising the two others. “You
two are two of them, and we’ve got Mr. Ramsay and Zayn.”
“You know the end game,” Harry growls. “I bloody well know you’ve the powers of
foresight.”
“We need to travel across this realm and find the four Phoenician gods are free
from their prison, but still stuck here.”
“Four?”
“I’m one as well.”
End Notes
     All the shtuff about primordial and Phoenicians are obviously my own
     version of mythology. :P
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