To the Sun, To the Stars, To the Sky

2: To the Sun, To the Clouds

Nico's POV (A/N: Ayyye, there's our favorite guy)

I stood in line, back perfectly straight. General Ares had not let us relax since we were called in this morning, and I knew it was my fault. I had made a mistake. And now, hundreds of soldiers of various ages stood in their rank, fingers barely grazing foreheads and chins pointed to the sky. The general was on a rampage, and I was about to be in the line of fire.

"Number 1017. Approach."

I swallowed my fear as well as I could and marched to the general. There wasn't a single pair of eyes on me. They stared at the sun, at the clouds, at the sky. Never at the poor soul about to have his rank tag revoked. You never look at a man about to have his rank tag revoked.

I tightened my jaw and tried to control my breathing as I finished the last few steps. My heart was beating out of my chest. My hands were sweating. I didn't look at the general; I looked at the ground. Don't look at your superior, and don't break form.

God, Nico. You just had to fuck up, didn't you?  

The general inspected me. Looking for any weakness in my posture, any injury, or any fear evident on my face. He wouldn't find any. My stance was perfect, my expression was neutral, and I was standing before the general about to have my rank card repealed. To be given to another soldier. Hopefully a soldier who's better than me, someone who doesn't fucking break form. Someone who doesn't break all the rules in a moment of panic. 

If only Bianca hadn't reached for those red berries. If only I hadn't tried to save her.

The general narrowed his eyes. He was in perfect shape, with very squared out features. Everything about him was sharp, including his tone as he addressed me. "Soldier 1017. Are you aware of the crime you've been brought up here for? Speak."

I was going to curse myself if I showed any signs of panic. Panic is weakness, and Nico di Angelo was not weak. I had trained, I had fought, I had killed to be alive right now, and I could not believe I was up here right now because—

"I broke form during a test without permission from a superior, sir."

The general twitched, irritated. "You broke form." His tone had just a bit of disbelief. I was supposed to be a good soldier—one of the best. And I'm here standing in front of him today because I failed to follow one of the most simple rules I've ever encountered in the military.

He's thinking I did something stupid. (I did do something stupid.) He's thinking I deserve this.

I tried to breathe, but my lungs hurt. I was so terrified, my lungs were starting to hurt. God damn it.

"You're telling me you survived this long just to break the first rule you ever learned."

Trust me, General. I'm thinking the same thing. Of course this would be my end. A simple code break.

"Break form only to give me your rank card, soldier," he ordered. I obeyed swiftly, and the card which was usually pinned semi-proudly to the front pocket of my shirt was now being handed over, signaling my demise. "Your execution will take place at Heraizdawurst Bay tomorrow morning. I hope you get a good night's sleep, 1017. And I hope whatever you broke form for was worth it. Go back to your rank." His voice was disappointed—I had been a good soldier, one of the best. Out of all of the soldiers across the country, I was almost in the top thousand. And now, someone else would take my place as I'm shot tomorrow on the beach. All I could do as I stood there was curse my stupidity and Bianca's naivety.

I marched all the way back, dread sitting heavily in my stomach, past women and men and enbies all keeping their apathetic eyes to the sky, to the clouds, to the sun.

Word count: 680