Based on a post I made on tumblr and then I sort of got inspired to keep writing the idea out.
All Riordanverse characters belong to Rick Riordan :D
A sharp pain in Maria's lower abdomen woke her up. She wasn't sure of the time but through a gap in the curtains she could see it was still dark.
She was so very warm, cocooned into her blankets, she wondered if it would be too terrible if she didn't get up at all.
Her uterus wasn't having it, however. Another stab of pain in her belly dissipated some of her grogginess.
Maria huffed. Why had God made her a woman?
She turned on her bedside lamp, picking up her watch and trying to read the numbers.
It wasn't even two yet.
It lifted her spirits a bit, she would still have lots of time to sleep after she'd taken care of… well, after she'd returned from the bathroom.
Getting up took a lot more willpower than she'd anticipated; her room was so cold!
It didn't take her long, but she was freezing by the time she got back into her bed.
Although feeling more comfortable, the pain didn't recede. She twisted and turned, her insides seemed to be raging war against her.
Maria gave up on her attempt to fall back asleep. She turned on the light again, grabbing the book she'd been reading the night before.
She had just gone back to her story —a novel about a pair of unlikely lovers that her mother would've found unacceptably filthy— when she heard a muffled childish giggle.
She checked her watch: ten to three.
Which of her two lovely children was laughing at almost three in the morning? And why?
Maria got up again, wincing at the temperature change. She walked softly up the hallway, avoiding the creaky floorboards.
She heard that boyish giggle again, as she passed Nico's door, followed by her son's excited voice.
After a few seconds Nico spoke again, but Maria couldn't make out the words.
She pushed her son's door open.
"Mamma?" Nico sounded surprised. "What are you doing awake? It's awfully late!"
The audacity of that child.
"What am I doing awake?" She repeated, raising an eyebrow. "Adults can go to sleep whenever they want. 4-year-olds, on the other hand, have a bedtime!"
Nico shrugged. "I couldn't sleep."
Under the dim light of his lamp, the bags under his eyes looked as dark as the night sky. If Nico had trouble sleeping, she wondered why he hadn't told her. She was sure it wasn't nightmares, he still went to her bed every time he had one of those.
Maria sat down on the bed, next to her son, letting him rest his head on her shoulder.
"You won't fall asleep by laughing and talking to yourself," she pointed out. "And you'll wake up your sister."
"But—" Nico saw her face and thought better of insisting. "Sì, mamma."
"How about you stay in my room, just for tonight," she suggested. "See if you can sleep there."
Nico nodded, pressing his face to her side.
Eventually, both Nico and Maria managed to fall asleep for a few hours.
She didn't feel entirely rested the next morning, and she was still feeling unwell, but her lady-maid had brought her a hot water bottle with her breakfast tray, and the pain had lessened.
Nico woke up with the smell of coffee, and snuggled up to her. Maria kissed the top of his head.
"Buongiorno, topolino."
Nico mumbled something.
"Sorry, I didn't quite catch that."
"I'm sorry for waking you up last night," he said, sitting up to grab a piece of toast from her tray.
Maria ran a hand through his hair. "You didn't, but you mustn't stay up that late. Children need to rest well."
"I do rest!" Nico argued, chewing on the bread. "But when I can't sleep Mimmo tells me stories."
Mimmo. That name rang a bell, but she didn't remember any of Nico's toys being called that. He loved naming each of his toys. Bianca baptised her dolls too, each of them had a name in her tea parties.
There was something off putting about it, though. Maria had never heard of a child who pretended his stuffed animals told him bedtime stories.
"What kind of stories?" She asked.
"Dal nonno when he was small!" Nico grinned. "Mimmo calls him Tore and says you take after him."
A cold feeling spread through her chest. Nobody had called her father 'Tore' in years, certainly not within hearing distance of Nico.
"Mimmo says he's my bisnonno," Nico continued. "He wishes he could meet you. I don't understand," he frowned. "He can just talk to you. I told him you were across the hall!"
Maria must've tightened her hold on him, Nico looked at her with a guilty expression.
"I know we shouldn't talk to strangers," he was quick to explain. "But if Mimmo is my great-grandfather then he's not a stranger, is he? It means he's your grandfather!"
"Topolino, my grandfather died before I was born."
"Mimmo" is a nickname for "Domenico" and "Tore" for "Salvatore" two names I absolutely adore.
My tumblr's /tagthescullion!