A/N: Hiyo! This is my... 17th is it? No wait... This is my 19th story! But, it is my first Percy Jackson story. I've been a fan of the series since it first came out, and with the new book out I decided to throw my bit of talent into the section. My favorite character is Nico, so this is about him and his little family of tragic cuteness. This spoiler heavy, so if you haven't finished the first series don't read this. I tweaked the canon a bit, or just filled in the blanks a bit so if you find yourself thinking that this isn't totally canon then you're right. All of the dialogue in this is Italian, but the translations are right next to the phrases so you shouldn't have any trouble. Thank for reading, and enjoy!
The setting sun of the west melts into the earth; staining the fertile land of Italia red with its fading colors. Shop owners are closing up their shops, merchants packing away their wares. Restaurants are opening and the streets are thinning from the market day crowds, farmers' carts dragged by mules and horses parade out of the village and back to their farms and families. The singing of the house women sign the end of the day and the time to sup as they call in their dirty-handed and barefoot children in from the river and into the warmth of their homes. A mother bustles in her kitchen, singing to herself the song of her mother and her mother before her and watches her children clambering up from the reeds of the river. Her son merry-eyed and feet caked with mud, her daughter chasing after her little brother in her clean dress and shoe bound feet.
"Mamma, vedi la rana! Vedi! Vedere!" ("Mama, see the frog! See! See!") Her son cries as he parades into the kitchen, his small chubby hands clasping the swam-green frog as if it were the greatest treasure in the world. His sister rolls her eyes and in her best impression of her mother, discards her shoes by the door, placing her brother's dirtied ones next to her own with much show of disgust.
"Io lo vedo, il mio piccolo angelo. Pregate dire, il mio piccolo angelo, dove lo hai trovato?" ("I see him, my little angel. Pray tell, my little angel, where did you find him?") She leaves the simmering stew on the old stove and wipes her olive hands across her many-stained apron. She crouches to her son and smiles softly at her daughter's emphasized disgust at her six-year-old brother's lack of maturity.
"Bianca e l'ho trovato nel fiume! Destra, sorella?" ("Bianca and I found him in the river! Right, sister?") He cranes his head to his sister, seeking her approval in the way only an oblivious little child could.
"Fratellino! Ho detto di non portarlo fuori del fiume!" ("Little brother! I told you not take him out of the river!") The girl storms, pouting and trying her best to appear very cross, earning a well-deserved chuckle from her amused mother.
"Ma che stava per affogare! Egli era nel fiume Mamma, mi hai detto di non andare nel fiume da solo, ma egli era!" ("But he was going to drown! He was in the river Mama, you told me not to go in the river alone, but he was!") His dark eyes fill with tears as he sniffs out an explanation, trying desperately to make his mama understand him. She only laughs again at him and wipes his eyes with the delicate swipe of a hand across his dirtied face.
"Oh, mio dolce angelo..." ("Oh my sweet angel...") She smiles as he sniffs again, trying hard to appear strong in front of his mama. She laughs as she stands up when the door to the kitchen opens, her smile widening with the appearance of man in the door.
"Maria ..." He says, his dark eyes taking in the situation before him with elegance and composure as any father must. A hint of a smile flits a cross his lips, a shadow on the water, an expression that it obviously unaccustomed to his hardened features.
"Ah! Bentornato, amore mio! Nico, Bianca dire ciao al tuo papà!" ("Ah! Welcome back, my love! Nico, Bianca say hello to your papa!") She greets him with open arms and an open heart, more than he could ever want or dream of. She smiles and world lightens despite the darkening sky. He embraces her and the world is still, until his enthusiastic son tugs on his pants and demands his attention.
"Papà! Papa! Vedi che cosa ho ottenuto! Ho salvato una piccola rana!" ("Papa! Papa! See what I got! I saved a little frog!") His father greets his son with the ruffle of his black hair and a twitch of the lips. Curiosity defeats his attempt at maintaining distant as he kneels to the ground to further greet his children.
"Papà, fratellino sta prendendo rane fuori di nuovo il fiume!" ("Papa, little brother is taking frogs out of the river again!") He could not hold back a chuckle as he stares at his stern faced daughter, her constant shifting of her feet and twiddling of her fingers collapsing the mature appearance she tries so hard to acheive.
"Ah, il mio Nico, il mio piccolo eroe, no? E 'molto buono che si è salvato quella piccola rana, e Bianca ... grazie per guardare il tuo fratellino. Perché non lo riportano a casa sua? Bianca, Nico?" ("Ah, my Nico, my little hero, no? It very good that you saved that little frog, and Bianca... Thank you for watching your little brother. Why do you not bring it back to his home? Bianca, Nico?") His heart swells as he peers down at his son, already adventuring into the world outside and bent of protecting what little he has. He dismisses his children with a little wave of the hand, nodding towards the bubbling river in the backyard.
"Sì, papà!" ("Yes, father!") They dash off, his daughter's poise forgotten as she chases after her brother already racing toward the riverbank.
"Così giovane ... così innocente." ("So young... so innocent.") He murmurs at their retreating backs, his heart already swimming with the emotion of regret, before an occasion has even formed.
"Sarebbe bello se il tempo, potrebbe rimanere qui, no?" ("It would be nice if time could just stay still, no?") She muses; returning to her boiling pot on the stove, the savory fragrances of the garden and earth invades his senses as she lifts the cover from the pot.
"E 'sciocco desiderio così, Maria. ... Ma faccio anche io. Non è normale per noi ... di avere una connessione con i nostri bambini. E' strano, soprattutto per me." ("It is foolish to wish so, Maria. But... I do too. It is not normal for... us to have such a connection with our children. It is odd, especially for me.") He sighs, and wraps his arms around her waist, inhaling the sweet smell of her dark hair. She relaxes under his hold, placing the top on the counter and turns to face him, wrapping her lithe arms around his neck.
"Devo averti avvolto intorno al mio dito perfettamente, no? Per avere una tale presa sul re dei morti?" ("I must have you wrapped around my finger tightly, no? To have such a hold on the King of the Dead?") She laughs lightly and presses her warm lips to his steely ones and then buries her face into his neck. He lets her hold him and kiss him, and smile into his neck. There, standing in the kitchen enveloped by his loves arms and the aroma of cooking tomatoes and basil, the laughter of his children ringing in his ears, Hades finally feels at home.
"Sembra che hai, Maria. Sembra che hai." ("It appears that you have, Maria. It appears that you have.")
A/N2: Fail Italian is fail. I used an online translator, so if any of it is incorrect please let me know and I would be forever grateful. Thank you. So as you can tell this is before Zeus is trying to kill them and stuff, and in my little head I have this idea that before Maria and the children lived in Italia, and then move to America to be closer to Hades. Well, whatever. I hope you enjoyed it! Little!Nico is so cute~ Please leave me a review, they mean the world to me. So thanks for reading and please drop me a review to let me know your thoughts! Thank you so much~ Grazie!