Hey, people! This is a short story requested by one of my readers, Stygian stapler and JPBBX ftw. I'm sorry it took so long to get out, but what with me being busy with finals and crazy studying, I haven't had the chance to write much. However, I will promise that I will upload one chapter of this DAILY, and that there are a good eight mini chapters here.

For those who probably don't know me, this is just a short story relating to the background of Nico DiAngelo. It was requested and I obliged, and it's actually unbelievably fun to imagine a past for our little fuzz ball of darkness!

Well, I won't trouble you guys any longer. Enjoy!

I don't own PJO/HOO/TOA

Six was the age of ignorance.

It's a simple rule that governs the way we work: the younger you are, the more innocent, the happier the story. Six year olds haven't heard of war and racism and homophobia. They haven't heard that they might be having stupid thoughts and unrealistic dreams. Everything has a happy ending- Cinderella marries the Prince, Ariel becomes a human, Rapunzel finds her parents. Good always, always, thwarts evil, and anything is possible. Physics and reality don't matter, only your imagination does. Everyone tells you that you're amazing, that you can be anything, that you're going to grow up and change the world because that's just how special you are.

And no story is complete without a happy ending.

At six, Life was pretty young, so it lived through these notions.

It gave Nico a loving mother and a caring, albeit overprotective father. He had an eight year old sister who's eyes shone with all the happiness in the world, and they had so much fun playing and talking together. While young Nico loved his parents, his favorite moments were the ones when his parents went away to their room to talk or work over things he didn't really understand- adult things, honey, his mother told him gently, before kissing his head and going back to his dad.

Then the real fun started.

At age eight, even though Biancas dad kept protesting that it was too dangerous (It wasn't, honestly, the streets of his Italian neighbourhood were empty and safe almost all the time. The only person standing outside was that scary man with the stormy beard and electric blue eyes who looked like he hated Nico), she, being older, would take his hand and lead him outside to play. They'd chase each other across the cobbles in the winter and fall, and when it got too hot to play in the summer, she'd take him inside and patiently help him learn his ABC's so that he could become a big boy and start school.

Nico lived for those moments. He and Bianca were una sqaudra, a team, and no two siblings had ever clashed so well. They barely fought, and even then it was only just them poking fun at each other; Nico pulling up Bianca's skirt to embarrass her in public, Bianca messing up his neatly combed hair during one those speeches by that weird man Mussolini.

Not to say he didn't love his parents too- he loved tugging at his mother's long, shiny locks when she picked him up to play with him, or share funny stories with his dad about what he and the boy from next door had been doing that day. Nico mostly chose to stick to his mother, though- even at such a delicate age he knew there was something wrong with how Hades only showed up once every few weeks and had a pale complexion that made no sense, judging by how tan Nico and the rest of his family were from their walks in the Italian sun. He knew it didn't make sense that he popped out of their household as suddenly as Bianca's balloon had once done when she held it too close to the fireplace.

Of course, it wasn't all fun and games he was Di Angelo, the angel, supposedly, but Nico was anything but. You just had to hear about the time he'd blew out all the candles by clapping -which led to a very awkward dinner- orwhen he'd scared his mother to death by making a dead bug jump in the air just by asking it to. Sei il nostro piccolo diavolo, non รจ vero? They'd ask.

You're our little devil, aren't you? He'd nod vigorously and they'd ruffle his hair and lightly scold him.

But, he loved them anyway. Nico was far too young to understand most of life, and he probably subconciously knew that, but the little he understood was good enough for him. So far, life had planned a pretty good start for him. He loved his parents and adored his sister, he enjoyed the Sunday walks they had when they went to church (Even if it was stifling when he wore his Sunday best in the summer heat), and his education was coming along pretty good, too. He was great at Italian, it being his mother tongue, and not bad at English either, seeing as both Hades and Bianca would occasionally speak to him with it. English was a weird language, compared to Italian- they used the word it when something wasn't female or male (Why did they do that? Everything was either male or female, it only made sense), but he was already better than most of the older kids he knew.

Last, but never least, he revelled in life in Italy. He'd heard of those mean faraway countries-Gran Britagna andGermania,the ones they were going to have a fight with, and he was instantly proud that Italy wasn't part of it. Bianca had drummed into his head that fighting was wrong- Italy was only talking to Germans, not actually helping them.

If life was like this forever, his little mind decided, he wouldn't mind one bit.

So, yeah, that's Chapter 1! I'm sorry if it isn't too interesting, but after this it's going to get a lot more intense. These chapters are going to be pretty short- one chapter per one year, so I hope you guys don't mind too much. For my readers who came here from TLHT GOD I AM SO SO FREAKING SORRY I SWEAR THAT I'M JUST SUFFERING FROM WRITERS BLOCK AND HAVE NO TIME TO WRITE. This little thing alone took a couple of days. I'm so sorry! I'll be back on track by hopefully next week. Thank you all for bearing with me.

And, for anyone who likes my style of writing but not the story, I've got a couple more on my profile (You're not at all forced to check them out- I just enjoy sharing my writing :P)

Well, tomorrow, we meet again!