Oh god.


Oh god.


She's not even turning to look at him yet, but just the sound of him saying her that name is enough to lock her jaw, and water her eyes. There was a lot in this world she wasn't looking forward to facing, but Nico D'Angelo had a place of honor right at the top of that list. Once, she'd thought they were family. She'd told him they were family. What will they be, once he knows the truth?

There's a long beat of silence while she just breathes. She's always spent the better part of the past two weeks crying about this. It seems like she should run out of tears sooner or later, but for now she'll just have to shove the lump back down out of her throat. She owes him that much, at least.

"Nico..."

When she turns to look at him, the change is unmistakable. Her warpaint is gone, along with the glittering platinum of her jewelry, and the preternaturally bright green of her eyes, all of her hair. Instead it's just a simple pair of cheap hoops, and plane hazel eyes. The girl looking back at him is far more mundane than the Destroyer could have ever looked. She looks tired, and sad, and mortal.

"No." She almost chokes on the words, but manages to croak out, "I'm sorry."