Apologies for taking so, so long with this. I really struggled with writing it for some reason. It's taken a long time, the luxury of time, the rest afforded by the holidays and a lot of music from the Kerrang! radio station to get this done. That was a combination I hadn't had until now.

I want to thank everyone who has read, favourited, reviewed etc. It really does make me feel special and I hope that people are still out there irrespective of the long delay.

Wishing a happy new year to one and all,

Marzipan.

"She's a sorceress," Rachel said, brushing a strand of hair that had been over-processed for the night out of her face. They were hurrying up the hill towards the hotel now and her 'do was suffering, coming down into her face as they hit the steps, her and Annabeth's heels clacking on the stone.

On hearing this, Percy's mouth turned into a thin line as he burst through the main doors but he didn't say anything. The bright of the lobby after the darkness outside was too much and it took him a while to adjust and get his bearings. Travis Stoll had told them that he had seen Nico and the woman heading towards the hotel but now they were here Percy had no idea where to go next.

Annabeth snorted. "She can pull as many rabbits out of hats as she likes. We'll beat her."

"I think she'll probably do a lot more than that," Rachel said grimly. "She's not that powerful but she really, really wants in with the bad side of Underworld. Assassinating its Prince would probably help her with that."

"You know before a battle there's this thing we do. False bravado, keeping spirits up?" Annabeth tried. "Does none of that mean anything to you?"

Rachel shrugged. "Not really. I never got that. If we're going to die we're going to die. You might as well be straight with us about it."

"We're going to die?" Annabeth asked incredulously, sounding a little strangled. "Tonight?" She had stumbled on the way up the steps as she turned around to crane her head disbelievingly at Rachel. Gods. You came to a wedding expecting to have fun and now she was about to leave in a body bag? Perhaps Nico had the right idea when it came to weddings: avoid them at all cost.

"Not sure," Rachel said breezily, ascending past Annabeth on the steps. "We might. It's a little murky. Blame Nico. Every time he pops up in one of my visions they're always full of death. I can just never tell whose death or whether it's just his natural aura or whatever."

Annabeth was momentarily speechless — to cover this she finished climbing up the steps two at a time, catching up with Rachel and entering the lobby with the redhead at her right elbow. A lot of the time she didn't understand Rachel at all. They could all die tonight, maybe, and all that Rachel was giving her was calm acceptance? Then again, Rachel did generally have a serious case of the que sera sera philosophy, probably part of being able to See all that she could. In most cases, Rachel took the view that whatever happened must have been meant to happen.

Annabeth didn't share Rachel's faith in the Universe; she found that view of the world bordering on insanity and sometimes she wondered if the Oracle made Rachel that kooky or whether it was the way that she'd always been.

"Room 327," Percy said to them, appearing on Annabeth's left side. "That's where they are."

"How do you know?" Annabeth asked.

"The receptionist told me," Percy said, aiming for casual but his voice was a little higher than normal and he couldn't finish the sentence without clearing his throat guiltily. "Okay. So, uh, let's go. Move out!" He headed to the stairs and Annabeth and Rachel followed behind him.

"That's your lying voice," Annabeth told him suspiciously.

"I'm not lying!" Percy said, using the same tone all over again and cursing himself inwardly for it. "She really did tell me."

As he made his way up the stairs Annabeth caught sight of something written on the back of his right hand. She darted up the stairs two at a time, hitching up her dress in a very unladylike manner, and grabbed Percy's wrist. Given that he was right-handed, there was no way that he had written that on there himself. On closer inspection, she discovered it was a phone number.

They'd reached the first landing when Annabeth started waving Percy's hand at him. "What's this?" she demanded.

Rachel settled back against the wall impassively, her head cocked slightly to one side, to watch as Percy's mouth worked silently.

"Phone number," Percy said airily, glancing upwards. "They're on the third floor," he said. "More stairs come on."

"Whose?" Annabeth demanded, tucking her hands into her hips.

Percy sighed. "The receptionist," he admitted. "Her idea, not mine by the way."

Annabeth snorted, turning around and glaring back down the stairs with murder in her eyes. "I'll bet it was," she said. "You guys can save Nico by yourself, right?" she asked. "I'm going to sort something out downstairs…"

"Annabeth," Percy said, grabbing her arm and rolling his eyes. "It was nothing. We needed to know which room Nico was in, right? So I sort of… flirted it out of her."

"Hey, look, if you've got it, flaunt it," Rachel said with a shrug, pushing herself off the wall and wading in to break up the argument, which they really did not have the time for. "And let's face it: Percy's kind of got it. Besides, don't tell me you've never flirted your way to anything."

Annabeth opened her mouth to issue a vehement denial then realised that she was no hypocrite and huffed a big sigh. Her mouth snapped closed again. "Fine. You're right." She started to climb the stairs, leaving Percy and Rachel alone on the landing. "But you're washing your hand as soon as we rescue Nico!" she called from above them.

"How did they find you?" Amélie snarled at Nico as if Percy, Annabeth and Rachel collectively hammering on the outside of the room's door and calling his name were all his doing.

Nico couldn't really say much; his head was spinning and reeling and Amélie's face kept blurring above him. He was lying sprawled on the bed with Amélie perched next to him. This was more than alcohol he knew now, although only the gods knew what it actually was that he'd been drugged with. Maybe it had been slipped into that bottle of champagne? He tried to speak but his vocal cords failed him. He was vaguely aware that Amélie was holding his hand; she had two fingers on his pulse. However, far from playing the gentle matron she was probably waiting for it to stop entirely.

Amélie dropped Nico's hand like a piece of trash. It bounced slightly on the mattress. She turned towards the door, a quizzical eyebrow raised at the sudden silence. There was a spell on the room that meant that no one outside it could hear what was happening inside so there was no point in her asking who it was, trying to play innocent.

Eventually she stood up, hesitating, before taking a tentative step towards the door. There was no room in this plan for underestimation — you did not do that with demigods, especially not ones as powerful as Nico. And from what she could gather, he knew some other pretty powerful demigods too, ones that would be only too happy to stop her at all costs. That's why she'd chosen seduction and then poison — not direct, not combative and she could take Nico somewhere quiet to die where they wouldn't be noticed yet still gain the reputation as the woman who assassinated him.

So the sudden total silence out in the hall? She wasn't about to think that was a good thing.

The window behind her exploded inwards. The shards of glass were followed into the room by the muffled thump of someone hitting the carpet. She whirled around suddenly and saw Percy crouched there, sword in hand, glaring at her. He must have shuffled across from the window of the room next door.

"Hi," Percy said. "Sorry, but I did knock. A lot." He got to his feet and his eyes began roving the room, assessing the situation. He glanced to the door. Annabeth and Rachel were outside; Annabeth had been pretty confident that she could bust through the door by releasing a tiny, Daedalus-inspired bronze bug into the lock which would explode when in position. When Percy had broken in through the window, distracting Amélie, they were going to open the door and come at her from two sides. However, there didn't appear to be any sign of the tiny explosion promised or the door opening which would be a pretty freaking huge spanner in the works of Annabeth's hastily put-together plan.

"You're too late," Amélie said matter-of-factly. "He's going to die."

Percy blinked and followed her gaze to the bed where Nico was sprawled. His blood ran cold and he gasped, stumbling as he walked towards the bed. His feet hadn't worked in the way that he had told them to; he was half-paralysed with fear and worry — Nico was so, so pale, paler than normal, and it looked like he was barely breathing.

"What did you do to him?" Percy demanded, crouching down next to the bed and touching Nico's forehead. It was cold. He checked the door again, convinced that Annabeth would be coming in any second. She would know what to do. She always did.

"Poison," Amélie said, bored. "A pretty strong one too. And stop looking at the door; your friends aren't coming through. The room is soundproof. They can't hear a thing. So, in the meantime, while we wait for him to die…" She held out her hand. Percy had a pretty loose grip on Riptide and it was torn out of his hand and shot towards Amélie, flying over her shoulder and sticking, quivering, in the drywall. Percy did a double take, blinking at the sword, then balled his hands into fists. It would come back eventually but until then…

"Why?" Percy asked tightly, his eyes burning with anger.

"Oh come on," Amélie scoffed. "Seriously? Do you know the kind of respect you get for taking out a demigod?" She paused, cocking her head. "Or… two."

She turned to the nightstand where he purse lay. Her fingers worked deftly on the clasp and she pulled out an old-fashioned perfume bottle. Before Percy could do more than raise an eyebrow at her sudden need to refresh her perfume at such a moment she had squeezed the rubber ball on the atomizer and doused Percy with it.

"Love potion," Amélie said, one side of her mouth quirking upwards into a smug, self-satisfied grin. "I sprayed some on the Prince of Darkness over there when I bumped into him outside the chapel. It worked well enough on him." Next she sprayed herself.

Percy blinked, feeling the fine droplets of potion dry almost instantly on his face. He didn't feel any different but when he opened his eyes it was almost as if Amélie had started to shimmer in front of him. Her features were shifting behind a swirling haze and when she reappeared she looked different. Better. Her skin had tanned, replacing the porcelain-pale it had been before, and her hair had lightened considerably. It was now closer to a honey blonde.

Her eyes were the change the Percy noticed the most, however; now they were no longer blue but grey, a grey that Percy thought he remembered intimately but suddenly could not place at all.

Surely he knew that shade of grey, had seen it in another pair of eyes before, but where and when and in whose eyes that had been escaped him. All he saw was how beautiful she was, how perfect for him. He knew with a certainty that he loved her more than anything else in the world. He stayed on his knees, Nico forgotten, caught up in her thrall. He never wanted to look at another face again; he could study hers forever and would if she would let him.

"More cooperative now, I see?" Amélie said amusedly, placing the love potion down on the nightstand and slinking around the bed. "Who's a good little demigod, hmm?"

"Me?" Percy asked, disbelief tainting his voice at the fact that she could apparently be so pleased with him.

"Of course," Amélie said, giving Percy's head a quick pat.

Flea-ridden stray mongrels that had rolled in something dead had received more affectionate human touches but Percy's heart leapt at the contact.

There was an explosion at the door. Acrid smoke coiled through the lock and some liquid oozed out. It spattered to the carpet, melting its way through the fibres as it went. The lock-'picking' bug had apparently turned the inner workings of the lock to molten metal.

Amélie whirled around at the intrusion and Percy imitated her; Annabeth and Rachel were stumbling over the threshold, half-blinded by the smoke still coming from the lock.

Percy felt another of Amélie's touches, this one on his shoulder. His flesh sang at the feeling and goosebumps raced away from the point of contact almost as if the rest of his body were trying to rise up and meet the light fingers resting on his collarbone.

"Protect me," Amélie hissed to him, ducking down to whisper in his ear. "If you love me, protect me. No matter what the cost." Then the touch disappeared and it was as if she had melted away into the smoke.

"I can't help but feel that kicking it open would have created less noise and mess," Rachel said mildly as she surveyed the damage. "But that's just me."

Annabeth growled out a reply and slammed the door behind her. The smoke was starting to clear and she could see Percy standing by himself in the middle of the room, arms folded. Behind him on the bed was Nico and even from the doorway she could tell his situation was bad. Now they were through the door the air seemed to be punctuated with his wheezy gasps for breath.

"What's going on?" Annabeth demanded of Percy. "Where is she? How is Nico? Why are you just standing there?" She paused, narrowing her eyes at her husband's stance and facial expression. Something was very, very wrong.

"He can't really hear you," Amélie said, appearing on top of the desk by the door, legs crossed at the knee and looking utterly composed. "Well, I mean, he can of course but he won't be paying much attention. Sorry."

Annabeth's eyes widened when she caught sight of Amélie. She looked completely different to the way she had appeared in front of the chapel — shorter, yes, but the most startling thing was that it was almost like looking in the mirror for her. Amélie had been transformed into an almost clone of Annabeth; it was as creepy as all Hades especially given that she currently wanted to tear that face — her face — off.

"What did you do?" Annabeth asked, aghast at the change.

"To me or to him?" Amélie asked easily. "Although, to be honest, it's all one in the same. I made a love potion. Not only does it make them fall in love with me but it also allows me to outwardly project the appearance of their dream woman. And hey, look. I guess his dream woman is you. Sort of. Well isn't that just precious?"

Annabeth snarled; the sound came from deep inside her throat. Knife suddenly drawn as if she had plucked it out of the air she rushed at Amélie, the blade raised. She was fast but Percy was faster; he was suddenly at her side. He grabbed her around the waist and flung her into the wall. Annabeth heard something crack — she didn't have time to differentiate between bone and drywall — and then Percy was on her, pinning her knife hand to the wall with one hand and wrapping the other around her throat. One foot trod painfully across both of hers.

The breath left Annabeth's body, both from being slammed into the wall and the shock of Percy attacking her. She looked up at his face as she struggled to free him; green eyes were glazed, empty to the point that they were almost unrecognisable. If she was going to die now, if Rachel had been right, then sure she wanted to do it looking Percy in the face but this wasn't Percy. These eyes were not her husband's and they chilled her to the bone as he squeezed at her throat and wrist.

Just as black spots were dancing in front of her vision something shattered on the wall next to her head. It had grazed by her temple as it flew and she felt shards of something ring against her skull. The noise had left her almost deaf in the ear closest to the sound.

"Oh, gods. No wonder they'd never let me play softball at Clarion," Rachel muttered, her fingers twitching for something else to throw now that the lamp had missed its intended target. With nothing else throwable — even if she could aim — immediately to hand she took off at a run and leapt at Percy's back, wrapping her legs around his waist and throwing her weight backwards. Caught by surprise, Percy torn free from Annabeth.

It was in midair that Rachel realised the flaw to her plan but there was no time to reconsider as he back smacked to the floor and Percy landed on top of her — Percy was no lineman but neither was he a Nico and it hurt like hell. At least she had saved Annabeth from being strangled; the momentary tangle of limbs that had become her and Percy on the floor had slowed him down enough so that Annabeth could turn on Amélie, swinging her knife in a wide arc that was broken when Amélie kicked Annabeth in the face, sending the demigod staggering backwards.

At that point Rachel lost the fierce grip she was keeping on Percy; with the sound of ripping material and the pop of tearing shirt buttons Percy broke free and got to his feet, charging at Annabeth once again. At the last second, Rachel managed to throw herself flat and snag his ankle with her fingertips; Percy's legs disappeared from underneath him like a cartoon character and he fell flat on his face. It would have been more amusing if it wasn't so necessary to stop him from, you know, murdering his wife.

Annabeth, whose nose was bleeding down her face, tightened her grip on her knife and went for Amélie again, who was now off the desk and on the floor. Annabeth slashed with her knife, aiming for the throat, but Amélie pulled back at the last second, whipping her head out of the way, and the blade caught her in the chest. The metal sliced through the sorceress's décolletage, leaving a red gash, and snagged on her dress, cutting through the supporting strap.

"This is Armani!" screeched Amélie, her mouth gaping in shock as the dress flapped free, threatening to expose her cleavage. "Armani which I enchanted to change shape when I did. Have you got any idea how much this cost?" Her voice lowered to a growl, her face twisted in hate.

"Nope," Annabeth said. "No idea and I don't care." She punched Amélie in the face, sending her spinning down towards the carpet. The sorceress didn't move again. Annabeth's knuckles sang out in pain at her and she relished the feeling for a second before turning to Rachel and tossing her bag at the redhead. "There's nectar and powdered unicorn horn in there," she said. "Mix them and give them to Nico. Hurry."

Rachel nodded, almost dropping the purse but catching it at the last second. She tore the bag open and shook the contents out on the bed beside Nico, her fingers snatching up a vial of liquid and another of a glittering powder. The Oracle wrenched out two corks with her teeth and spat them out, dumped the powder into the liquid and watched it froth in a way that brought back memories of every chem lab she had ever failed. When the fizzing subsided she poured it down Nico's throat; gasping at the icy feel of his skin, which was slick with sweat, when she put her hand on his chin to open his mouth.

Rachel bit her lip and closed her eyes, praying hard to Apollo. Granted, she had way more of an affinity to the prophecy side of him rather than the healing side of him but she prayed anyway, figuring that, Zeus dammit, he owed her and he owed her good. This was the least he could do after all these years of turning up and trying to schmooze with her in that teenage model form of his.

There was no indication that Apollo had answered her prayer, but Nico gave a juddering gasp anyway and sat bolt upright. He immediately began a process that was awfully reminiscent of hacking up a lung until he puked, barely managing to haul himself over to the edge of the bed to do so in time.

A wide grin split Rachel's face, a grin that didn't even falter (much) in the wake of the sound of vomit spattering against the carpet. She visibly sagged in relief and threw herself down in an armchair next to the nightstand, running a hand across her face; as the adrenaline began to drain out of her she suddenly felt washed out.

Amélie's trip into unconsciousness, via Annabeth's fist, seemed to have broken whatever hold she had had on Percy and the son of Poseidon groaned loudly and rolled onto his back, blinking at the ceiling. He had carpet burns on his chin, forehead and nose from the faceplant he had taken when Rachel had tripped him but other than that he seemed unharmed.

"What happened?" Percy murmured, screwing his eyes closed and pressing them back into his sockets with his fingers, trying to push the headache as far back into his skull as possible.

"You tried to kill me," Annabeth said breezily, one hand absently rubbing at her throat where her husband's fingermarks were beginning to show lividly against the flesh. "Luckily you went at it with your usual half-assed attitude so it didn't stick."

Percy sat up quickly, opened his mouth, sealed it tightly against a tide of nausea that had risen within him, then spoke only when he was sure he wouldn't be sick. "Huh? I did what?"

"Well to be fair you were a little under the influence," Rachel said mildly, holding up Amélie's perfume atomiser to the light. She had spotted it on the nightstand from where she'd been sitting. "This is pink and glowing," she continued. "Something tells me it's not Chanel No. 5."

"The love potion?" Annabeth asked curiously. "Clever way to deliver it really."

"I'd place my trust fund on yes," Rachel said grimly.

It wasn't that she was a romantic or anything like that and she was far from an Aphrodite girl, but she firmly believed that love wasn't a force that should be messed with. It was too intertwined with destiny, which really came under the Oracle umbrella, for her to be happy to find someone dicking around with it by brewing up an eau de Rohypnol in a cauldron. With her mouth set in a thin line she crossed the room to the bathroom and emptied the potion down the toilet, flushed, waited, and then flushed again for good measure. Hopefully that was the last they'd see of that.

When she came back out of the bathroom, Nico, it seemed, was done throwing up. He was slumped back on the bed, a pale and rumpled mess. Percy was still on the floor, massaging his temples, and Annabeth was nudging Amélie with the toe of her pump.

"What are we going to do with her?" Rachel asked, leaning against the doorjamb.

Annabeth sighed wearily. "I don't know," she said. "Take her to Chiron, I guess. He'll know what to do."

"Before you even ask, I'll tell you right now that you can order a cab," Nico said grouchily. He was still clutching his stomach. "I am not shadow travelling anywhere tonight. It feels like I just turned my digestive system inside out. I feel like crap."

"Why hi, sunshine!" Annabeth said chirpily. "What, no eternal gratitude for saving your scrawny little ass?"

"If you hadn't forced me to come my life wouldn't have been in danger!" Nico sputtered out incredulously. "Don't even get me started with you."

Annabeth chose to ignore the little tantrum Nico was throwing. "I'll get Chiron to send Argus," she said, going back to their previous topic as if Nico hadn't spoken. "That's easier. Plus it's not like he doesn't have eyes to spare for watching her. Something tells me she's going to be a tricky prisoner."

"This is my last wedding," Nico bit out angrily. "I do not care who is getting married next I am not coming. Got it?"

"So dramatic," Annabeth said. "It's not like you died or anything."

"Nearly!" Nico shot back, sitting up and folding his arms to give the scowl he shot at her extra effect. "And it wasn't fun, by the way."

"I thought you'd be used to it by now," Rachel said. "It seems to be a hobby you three share. Almost dying, that is."

"At least we're good at it," Percy said with a shrug, a trace of his usual grin finding its way back onto his face. "We get points for that, right? For doing it with style?"

"Oh absolutely," Rachel said, lurching upright again as Annabeth finished cramming the contents of her purse back into the depths, flipped open her cell phone, and dialled. "But, really guys, zero points for effort. You have no follow through. You're always nearly dying. You never seem to quite manage it."

"I hate people," Nico muttered. "I hate you all, I hate the world. If it started to end right now my only regret would be that I hadn't had time to organise a parade. When I'm by myself, you know how many people try to kill me?"

"Loads?" Percy suggested innocently.

Nico's nostrils flared. "Only a few," he ground out.

Annabeth snapped her phone shut. "Argus is on his way," she said. "We've got to wait with her until then."

"Ooh. Can we order room service while we wait?" Percy asked, brightening up considerably and reaching up to snatch the menu from the desk Amélie had been sitting on earlier. "I mean, if they're going to charge it to the room and we're not paying…"

"Good plan," Rachel said approvingly. "I could murder a steak right now. Did anyone else notice there was, like, no food on the plates at dinner?"

With the business side of things taken care of Annabeth turned to Nico. "And by the way, just for the record, you're acting like a baby," she told him scornfully. "I know I'm a little late to the part and all but still: grow up."

"You grow up," Nico muttered petulantly, scowling at her.

"Remind me why I just saved your life?" Annabeth asked through gritted teeth.

"Hey, no one asked you to," Nico said.

"So you'd rather you were dead right now?" Annabeth demanded.

"You know what? Maybe. You know what they don't have any of in Hades?" He managed to climb to shaky feet and stumbled across the room, shooting a withering glance at Amélie's crumpled form as he went. "Weddings." And with that opened the door and staggered out into the hall, determined that the next wedding invitation he received was being cast into the deepest, darkest pit that Tartarus had to offer.

"Hey Nico!" Percy called out from the room, the noise-cancelling spell redundant because of the still-open door. "Where are you going? They've got three types of cheesecake!"

Nico coalesced back into human form; he'd been about a second away from turning into pure shadow and winking out of existence all together. His stomach growled treacherously at him and he sagged, sighed, and turned back to the room.

"Fine. I want a burger," he said, closing the door behind him and leaning against it. "With everything on it. Everything. And all three types of cheesecake. Also, wine. And I'm only doing this because I'm hungry. Not because I like you or anything."

Percy laughed, shaking his head. "Whatever. Sit down, man. I'll order."

Nico righted the chair from in front of the desk that Annabeth and Amélie had sent flying earlier and threw himself down on it. Assassination attempt aside, with good food and present company this might, just might, turn out not to be the absolute worst wedding he had ever been to.