Author's Note:
Hi guys! This is my first real ever fanfic, so please feel free to provide any feedback/thoughts/ideas as I will welcome them all. I really appreciate you clicking on my story, and I hope you enjoy.
Disclaimer: I do not own PJO or any of the characters, they belong strictly to the GOAT himself Rick Riordan.
3rd Person POV
On a picture-perfect spring day, the rays of the sun blazed through the white clouds and the blue background of the sky to fall upon the skin of the citizens of the Kingdom of Olympus. Olympus was a beautiful land, stretching from beaches to mountains and valleys alike. As is the center of any kingdom, the castle of the royal family stood tall and proud amongst a great hill towards the center of the region. The royal family was loved and adored by its citizens, as King Frederick and Queen Athena ruled the nation with a mix of generosity and strictness that one could only describe as fair and just.
Outside of the royal castle, the marketplace acted as the chaotic hub for all travelers and peasants. The bakery doors opened every morning smelling of fresh bread and pastries, the butcher offered healthy cuts of meat at generous prices, and the merchants set up their stands every morning hoping that this day would be better than the previous one. Horses and carriages roamed through the streets of the marketplace, as little boys with wooden swords chased each other around telling stories of legendary knights who fought with bravery and honor. Little girls were sent by their mothers with baskets to fetch fresh fruit and eggs, as well as pick stop by the seamstresses shop to purchase more thread and needles. The local inn welcomed strangers and passerbys, offering relief from the hot afternoon sun and the cold evening winds. On the outskirts of the marketplace lie the homes of the citizens of Olympus, ranging from the wealthy merchants down to even the poorest peasants. Many citizens who struggled to find work would turn to the royal castle for aid, offering payment in return for their services as maids, guards, and servants.
Each and every morning at the earliest crack of dawn, before the market even began to spring to life and the villagers went about their day, a teenage boy with dark, raven hair would awake. Living far beyond the castle and even the marketplace, at a rundown barn in the outskirts of town, this boy lived with his little sister, a poor excuse for a stepfather, and a head swirling of "what ifs" and "could bes". He was a boy who dreamed in a world far more advanced than the one he currently lived in. A world where success was earned, not given to those with the proper last name. He imagined a place where a man could turn himself into whatever he dreamed to be – a prince, a knight, heck even a painter if that is what he wanted to be.
But this boy always knew what he wanted to be, and it wasn't a painter. The world of the royals had always fascinated him. Seeing at his current life could literally stray no further from that of a king, he would often catch himself staring towards the massive stone structure atop the hill and picturing how different things would be. Dressed and adorned with elegant robes and jewelry, every meal being a massive feast of fresh meats cooked by the greatest chef in the land, servants and butlers who will do anything you ask.
Against what many would believe, he did not crave living in the castle for the power, as many do. He dreamed of the elegance and freedom of the royal life because it was the only way to distract him from how he was actually living.
Each morning, he would wake up with a sore back and achy muscles after having slept on an old patch of hay in the barn. He would wake up as quietly as possible as to not wake his little sister, for he knew a deep sleep was not easy to come by these days. Stomach still growling from missing dinner the previous night, he would set out to try and find some scraps and crumbs to munch on. Thankfully he was able to catch a baker with his cart of pastries on his way into town that morning and traded a few bronze coins for a spare loaf of slightly burned and mildly rotten bread.
Thankfully, his current job payed just well enough to be able to afford such luxuries. He used to work as an errand boy around town, loading crates of goods onto carriages or helping whoever he could for any amount of pay at all. Then one day, he read a sign about the castle looking to hire young men as potential palace guards and he couldn't say yes fast enough. While he knew it would be physically draining work, any chance to see the castle up close and personal brought him one step closer to forgetting about the hell he currently lived in.
Don't get him wrong, his little sister was his entire world and he would do just about anything for her, but it was their stepfather that caused all the problems. The sibling's real mother and father fell in love hard and fast, a tale that their mother would tell them often as a bedtime story. Sadly, their father was a sailor and a fisherman, resulting in a not so lavish childhood but all that mattered was that the four of them were happy. One morning, their father kissed their mother before heading off to work, only never to return. Lost at sea they said. Their mother was devastated and broken, not only emotionally but also financially.
With next no money to feed her own children, the mother remarried a decently well-off pub owner not long after their father's passing. While he seemed like a generous fellow at first, he true colors began to show. He would go to work at the pub and end up drowning himself in mead and wine, only to be dragged home unconscious at the end of the day by a coworker. He disrespected their mother as the older boy would try and cover his sister's ears every night and lull her to sleep despite the harsh sounds of yelling and bottle smashing that came from their parents below. No matter how drunk or horrendous he was, at least they always had the precious angel that was their mother to provide them with love and care.
Little did they know even that would come to an end eventually. Just a couple short years ago, their mother fell deathly ill. The boy begged and begged the town doctors to try and heal her, but there was little they could do. Those months were the worst of the boy's life. Watching his beautiful, loving mother become a sickly, pale shell of the woman she used to be broke his heart. Day after day, week after week, he would spend hours at her side. He would try and tell funny stories and share memories of good times to cheer her up, but he eventually realized it was keeping him saner than it was her.
Eventually one morning when the boy went it to check on his mother, with a small plate of fruit and water for breakfast, he realized she was gone. Her suffering and pain had lasted for months and yet all it took was an instant for her to leave them. Despite the pain and the horrors of those months, watching his role model disintegrate into little more than a stranger, he selfishly wished they had lasted longer. To sit idly by, unable to do anything to help, and watch his greatest love in the world succumb to sickness shattered him completely. Worse than that, it left him and his sister to be cared for by their drunken stepfather.
In the few years since their mother's passing, the dark-haired boy and his sister have barely scraped by. The boy worked as many hours as he could to muster up a meager salary to feed himself and his little sister and though the boy dreamed of earning enough to one day move out from their crumbling home, they were forced to take shelter under their stepfather's roof.
Their stepfather got worse over the years as well, clearly, he was unable to adjust to not having their mother around to do whatever he required. He drank more than ever before, and the siblings would often hope and pray he drank enough to pass out at the pub for that was much better than the nights he would come home late in the evening in a belligerent state.
On those nights, just when the boy had lulled his sister into a restful sleep, they would be startled by the sound of heavy boots trudging up the stairs to the upper level of the barn. With a mead still in hand, swaying left to right and barely able to stand, the sight of his drunk stupor was enough to send waves of fear through the still young kids. He would laugh and mumble random words, insulting their mother and them as well.
The worst nights were the ones when he was feeling particularly violent, shouting profanities and threating to beat the kids if they ever disobeyed him. To protect his sister from ever having to experience that, the older boy would often purposefully rile up their stepfather to draw his physical anger away from his sibling. The man would beat the younger boy, punching him across the jaw or cutting him with a broken wine bottle, sometimes even whipping him with his belt. Too small and weak to properly fight back and fearful that the harm would then be turned onto his sister, the boy had no choice but to silently take whatever punishment he was set to receive that evening.
With his sister sobbing, watching her supposed to be parent figure mercilessly beat a young teenage boy, the two siblings created an inseparable bond. The brother would take her into town to watch the street dancers or pick flowers from the fields to try and give her some semblance of a normal childhood.
Thus, when the day came for the boy to begin his new job as a guard within the walls of the royal castle, he hoped that this could somehow be a turning point for him and his family. The higher pay could lead towards them being able to leave their horrific guardian and maybe, just maybe, walking through the stone walls of the castle alongside royalty could somehow become the opportunity they had been praying for.
A/N: Sorry it was a little short, just trying to set the scene for you guys. I should be updating sometime soon in the next week or so, thanks again for reading!