Between TC and BotL

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Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians or Heroes of Olympus, all rights to Rick Riordan

The small boy walked through the crowded field, he tried not to show how scared he was as the palace grew near. The spirits parted before him, some bowing some, some calling him "Lord". He reached the gates and took a deep breath, trying not to look at the gruesome scenes displayed on them. He walked down the dark halls and though he had never visited this place before his feet seemed to know the way to the throne room, just as they had somehow known the way to his father's kingdom.

The king sat upon his throne as the young boy entered. He could barely feel what little innocence that remained in him under the hatred and sorrow. He felt the waves of hate rolling off of his queen at the sight of his son. Though the child was his pride and joy when his mother lived, he couldn't help but feel disappointed at the pathetic excuse of a son before him.

The boy knelt in front of his father. He could feel the death glares his step-mother gave him burning into his skin, the disapproving scowl of his father deep in his heart. He looked into his father's face, the child inside of him hoping for some glimmer of love or any kind of approval yet he got nothing but disappointment. That night he'd pleaded and begged to have his sister back, but his father wouldn't allow it. He'd told him the only way to get a soul back was to trade it for another – even though that had never been done. I'll give you mine! Just please, Father, she doesn't deserve this! His father simply shook his head. It was clear the boy's time was up. He stood and walked back the way he came, out the gates and through the field. The spirits parted again, bowing and calling him their lord, but he heard none of this. He stopped when he reached the river. A single tear ran down his dirty face as a light flashed in front of him. He looked at the dark sword and small velvet bundle before him as the light dimmed. Shocked he picked them up. A silver ring and a piece of paper fell out of the fabric. He picked up the ring and gasped as he saw that it was the same one his father had worn. He looked at the note attached: My son's do not cry.

The little boy wiped the tear off his face and looked back at the castle. I'll make you proud Father. I promise.

Thanks for reading, love you for it!

I'll try to update again around the 7th.

Hope you have a good day/night!