A Quest of Eight; A Heroes of Olympus Fanfiction

The Not-So-Lovely God of Love

Y/n's POV

It was actually really nice getting to spend some more time with Nico. I could tell the others hadn't exactly warmed up to him yet, but that was something that would take time. I had known him for around two years now, so it was easier for me to open up to him and willingly spend time with him. The three of us hitched a ride on a tour boat that took us back to the island to blend in, and when I saw Split, I was impressed. The front half of it was filled with palm trees and side walk cafes. The back, however, had a variety of medieval castles, limestone houses, and green hills. And while all of that was breathtaking on its own, the first thing that caught my eye was the angel at the ice cream cart.

I nudged the boys, who were standing on either side of me. "Hey. Are you guys seeing this?"

"Yeah. Maybe we should buy some ice cream," Nico proposed. The closer we got, the more I feared that this angel might be a son of Boreas, who also happened to be Khione's father. "He's not a returned spirit. Or a creature of the Underworld. So what is he?"

When we got within thirty feet of the angel, he spotted us. I thought our cover might have been blown, but all the angel did was gesture over his shoulder with his ice cream bar, asking us to follow him. And then he dissolved into the air. Jason led us through the city all the way to Diocletian's palace palace, where the line to get inside was super long.

"This line's gonna take forever," Jason noticed. "I've got a better idea. Hold on." I was used to Jason's flying by now, having experienced it multiple times. Nico, on the hand, was not. He cursed at Jason as he flew into the air, and didn't stop until we touched the ground on the other side of the palace walls.

Nico scowled. "I don't like being touched. Don't ever grab me again."

"Uh, okay. Sorry," Jason apologized.

"Roman dead are everywhere here. Lares. Lemures. They're watching, and they're angry," Nico told us.

"Come on," Jason urged and led us forward. "The winged guy went this way." Jason stopped in front of a set of stairs and looked down into the darkness. "Where do you think these stairs lead?" 

"Underground," Nico replied. "My favorite place." The stairs led to a vast cellar with thick support columns and almost no light. A few dozen yards into the tunnel, we came across a bust of Diocletian.

"Hello!" a voice greeted. Jason whipped around so fast with his sword drawn that he sliced off the head on the nearest bust. Behind us, the winged man leaned against the nearest column, tossing a small bronze hoop into the air. "Well that wasn't very nice. What did Diocletian ever do to you?"

"It was an accident. You startled me," Jason claimed. With a wave of his hand, the angel reassembled the pieces of the best, placing it back on the pedestal. 

"Jason Grace, the West Wind has been called many things. Warm, gentle, life-giving, and devilishly handsome," the angel listed off. "But I have never been called startling. I leave that crass behavior to my gusty brethren in the north." 

"You're Zephyros. God of the West Wind," I realize.

"For you, Y/n L/n, yes, because you are Greek. But right now I'm in my Roman form. Favonius," the West Wind corrected.

"So why did you appear to us? Why lead us to this cellar?" Jason pushed.

"Right. The sarcophagus of Diocletian. Yes, this was its final resting place. The Christians moved it out of the mausoleum. Then some barbarians destroyed the coffin. I just wanted to show you that what you're looking for isn't here. My master has taken it," Favonius declared.

"Your master? Please tell me your weatherman who claimed he was the god of all the winds. Please tell me your master isn't Aeolus," Jason begged. 

"I'm with Jason on this one," I agree.