Archive of Our Own ^beta

Athena felt the powers returning to her – returning to her veins, to her bones, to her heart (although someone would argue that she doesn’t have one. Herself included at this point) –  before she realised what was truly happening.

Then she felt it. The raw power of Poseidon’s rage. And she knew. She knew.

She hated it, because she couldn’t stop thinking about it, the contempt in her daughter’s eyes in their last conversation. When had that even been?

~~~

She watched her tend to her garden. It was quite a nice garden. Charming. White and blue forget-me-nots, and delicate pink peonies lined one of the fences. On the other side of the fence was a beautiful magnolia tree that half hung over it, and half over the pool. Ceramic pots with bundles of daisies growing out of them hung off the lower branches. They looked to be hand painted, by children at that. A rose bush grew out of a large pot on the other side of the pool. Many bright red roses stood lively and well. It was a dainty little garden, that all in all, seemed to be well kept.

Athena decided to make her appearance. She landed on a dried leaf, and her daughter swung around, pointing a celestial bronze hand shovel at her. Recognition sparked in her eyes, and she lowered her arm.

“This is coming along quite nicely.” A civil start.

“Thanks. Percy did most of the work, but I try to keep it in check as much as possible when I’m not at work. He does a lot when he’s not at work, so I figured on weekends, and my days off, I could put in some effort too."

“Yes, well, one might even think you were the daughter of Demeter.”

Annabeth actually laughed at that. Athena watched as her daughter started to relax. “Maybe. You know, if it weren’t for the trademark hair or eyes.”

~~~

She did not go to the funeral. She never had in the past. Not for any of her other children. And she couldn’t start now, it would be unwise. Showing favouritism always ended in a mess.

She wanted to go though, she honestly, truly did. But she, and her family had been disrespected, disregarded, and dishonoured. Yet again offered the opportunity of a lifetime – one that heroes seldom got offered. And Athena disapproved of her daughter’s choice. She would most certainly not be seen at her daughter’s funeral as if her daughter and her husband hadn’t offended the strongest beings in the world. How could she just choose to leave this world and stay gone? Who would choose death over bringing glory and honour to their mother’s name? No one had brought her as much glory as Annabeth had, and no one else, Athena feared, would. Not even her grandchildren, Annabeth’s children. For they were as much Poseidon’s legacies as they were hers. They would achieve great things, her grandchildren. But neither would bring her glory like Annabeth had. It was truly disappointing.

~~~

“Where are the children?”

“Oh, Freya’s at school, and Percy took Felix in to work with him. What are you doing here, Mother?”

Athena ignored the question, opting for her own, instead, “You know that camp starts soon, correct?”

“Yeah, we’re going to visit on the first weekend of the summer. After Freya finishes school for the year. And don’t deflect."

“It is time, you know.”

Annabeth’s eyes flared with anger, “No! No.”

Athena tried again. Annabeth had to see reason. “Annabeth, she has a scent, you-"

“She’s seven, and he’s three! It’s not time, and you know it.” Athena felt her anger rise. Annabeth should know not to interrupt her.

“She needs to begin her training. They may be legacies, but they are the children of two of the most powerful demigods of this generation, at least.”

“No she doesn’t. She’s seven. I’m letting my daughter be seven.”

“You were seven when you came to camp.”

“And I had no choice. I was living in a neglectful, abusive home, and decided to run away because of it. I got to camp because Thalia and Luke found me. I’d probably be dead if it weren’t for them. But that’s not the point. The point is, I went to camp when I was seven and because of that, I had no childhood! Excuse me for not wanting the same for my children.”

Annabeth was trembling. And Athena knew it wasn’t from fear. She wasn’t looking at her daughter. She was looking at a mother willing to protect her children at all costs. Athena couldn’t be more proud.

~~~

These children were powerful. Athena knew. And without their parents, they would need proper guidance. Guidance she could not provide. Guidance Poseidon could not provide, either, as much as she hated to admit she considered that Barnacle Brain.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the entrance of her temple. The temple her now-dead daughter had designed.

A cloud spirit was floating in the doorway, holding a bag. “My Lady,” she started, bowing her head, “your granddaughter, Freya, asked me to deliver this to you.”

Athena took the bag. Why would her granddaughter want to deliver hr anything? Why not deliver it herself? Athena turned away and opened it. Inside were scrolls, more than she knew what to do with, where to place. She picked one up. In a swirly cursive that she recognised, the label read Throne Room Courtyard.

Athena dropped the bag like it was made of poison, hands shaking.

“Leave me,” she said, maintaining a cold façade.

Annabeth’s notes and plans. These had been her dead daughter’s notes and plans. Athena had no use for these plans like she had no use for her dead daughter.  She threw the scroll in her hand against the wall. It crumpled slightly on impact.

A scream that sounded like a banshee met her ears. It was only minutes later, when Athena was staring the desk that had been overturned, multiple holes and cracks in her temple’s walls and a bag full of scrolls that hadn’t been touched, that she realised the scream came from her.

~~~

“Annabeth, you must listen to me. Your children are powerful. They are the grandchildren of two very powerful Olympians. If you thought you had a target on your back when you were their age, then imagine if you had the blood of Poseidon in you as well. They need to protect themselves. “

They’re kids, Mother! They need to be wary of strangers, not know how to disarm an opponent three times their size. That’s what Percy and I, their parents, are for. How do you not get that? We are trying to give them the opportunities in life that we never got.”

“They have a destiny, Annabeth. One they must follow. You may not be able to see what it is, but I do. Poseidon does. The other gods do. They need this training if they are ever going to be a success. They need the best training. They need Chiron.”

Annabeth turned back to her garden bed. Maybe Athena was getting through to her.

But then, she said this, “You truly don’t care, do you? All you care about is another soldier to do your bidding to bring you ‘success.’ We’re all just expendable to you aren’t we?” She laughed humourlessly. “That’s the fucking tragedy of it all. After every single thing I have done for you, Percy has done for you, my friends and family have sacrificed for you, it means jack to you. All you want is someone else to bring you glory when your best soldier can’t fight anymore. The new Aristos Achaion.”  Athena bristled at the disrespectful, almost mocking tone. Still, she endured, and ignored it.

“Is there no glory in being the Best of the Greeks?”

“Sure, except for the fact that actually living would be nicer.” She studied Athena critically like she was looking at Athena through a microscope. It was an odd sensation that made the hair on her arms prickle. Athena could feel the judgement, and she hated it. 

Then, Annabeth continued, “That’s the thing with you immortals, isn’t it?”

“Watch your tone-“ she had had enough of this disrespect, but Annabeth ignored her.

“We mortals are merely a blip on your radar. You could come down to earth one day, have a daughter or a son, go to sleep back on Olympus and that child would have grown up and died before you even woke up. Our lives hold no significance to you whatsoever.”

Athena ignored her words because she needed to get through to her daughter. Not because they hit a little too close to home.

“You must let go of whatever grievances you hold against me, against Olympus. Send your children to camp, Annabeth. I will not ask again.”

~~~

She found Poseidon fishing on a beach.

He didn’t look to her, but he asked, “So you heard?”

She didn’t answer. The answer was obvious.

“Freya and Felix are refusing to speak to me. They are under the impression that I could have done something to stop it. They remind me of him so much. Her sarcasm? All his. His glare? Exact same as his father.” There was a pause that seemed to go on for eternity. Then, “How do you do it?”

“Do what?” Although Athena had a feeling she knew exactly what he was talking about.

Poseidon sighed. “I haven’t had a mortal child since the 1940s. I haven’t cared for a mortal since long before then. You’ve had children. They’ve grown and died. How do you deal with it?”

Athena thought back to her numerous children that had died trying to find the Athena Parthenos. She thought about lying. This was her (im)mortal enemy. He shouldn’t get to see her like this. But then, he was going through it too. He had been open and vulnerable with her first.

“Truthfully,” she took a breath, “I haven’t had to. They’ve always just been another number, another face with the potential to bring me glory. When they died, I didn’t consider them as anything but a failure. But she didn’t fail, and she’s dead anyway.”

“The last time I saw Percy was at Freya’s tenth birthday party. They didn’t recognise me. It was the first time Freya and Felix had met me, but they didn’t recognise me. Knew their grandfather was god of the seas, but hadn’t a clue what I looked like. Percy ended up kicking me out because I got so enraged. He told me that if I couldn’t respect him and Annabeth, and the way they were raising their kids, then I should just stay away. He tried to get into contact with me a few years ago, but I didn’t respond. I’d never seen fury in his eyes as great as that day. I regret never sorting it out.”

“They should have respected us more,” she said bitterly.

“No,” he reels the line in, the bait’s been eaten, “we should have respected them more.”

“Well, they should have at least taught their children to respect us. Do you know that I’ve never once received a pray from either of them? Freya had a cloud nymph deliver my daughter’s architectural plans for Olympus. Didn’t offer them to me herself, nothing. As if I wasn’t worth the time.”

“They’re grieving, you can’t expect them to start making offerings left, right and centre as if you’re the reason they didn’t lose their parents earlier. Besides, from what I heard, there wouldn’t have been anything anyone could have done about it.”

Athena pondered that. Along with that dreadful conversation. She hasn’t stopped thinking about it. If only her daughter had been less stubborn.

Just as Athena was about to take her leave, Poseidon said one last thing, “Standing here, next to an ocean as calm as death, has made me realise how much he would hate this destruction I caused.”

Then maybe, Athena thought, they shouldn’t have died.

~~~

“Mother,” Annabeth growled, “It is not your choice, nor anyone else’s, except mine and Percy’s to decide when my children go to camp. You don’t have a right to dictate when my children go to camp. When my children start sacrificing themselves for you!!!”

They heard the front door shut with a bang, and Percy call out, “Hey ‘Beth, we’re home.”

But Annabeth ploughed on, “Besides, it’s not like they’ve had, or will have, anything to worry about since Percy and I-” Annabeth cut herself off abruptly.

“You what, Annabeth?”

Percy came through the back door, eyeing Athena warily. Annabeth stayed silent. When Percy got to them, he looped an arm around her and kissed her cheek. “Felix is getting a snack."

“You what Annabeth?” Athena was dangerously close to losing her temper. Her daughter had better not have done anything foolish. Anything to have belittled her name.

“Nothing, Mother. Forget I said anything” Annabeth glared at her husband, a clear indication not to say anything.

She turns to Jackson. “Jackson, what is my daughter talking about?”

If she was expecting any semblance of respect, she didn’t get it. Jackson looked her dead in the eye and said, “Nothing for you to worry about. It’s between Annabeth and I. Leave it.”

Athena let her eyes flash with power. Jackson didn’t even blink, but Annabeth rolled her eyes.

“Look, Mother, Percy and I just got some extra insurance that our children would be safe. Safe until they were ready to join the Greek world properly. Because we do actually know that they will have to. We know it’s inevitable. Excuse us for trying to prolong the good times in their life.”

“And how, pray tell, did you achieve this ‘extra insurance’?”

Annabeth sighed. “We made a deal, okay! No prophecies, no wars, no tragedy until they’re ready.”

“No prophecies? What? Annabeth, no one can control that. No one except-” Athena cut herself off as the realisation sank in. “You made a deal with the fates.” Her voice was calm. She ensured it. Deadly calm.

“You foolish, stupid girl! There has never been a more foolish decision made in history!”

“Debatable” Jackson cut in. Athena ignored him 

“There’s more important things in life than wisdom and strategy, Mother. Like love, or loyalty.”

  “I know that! But not at the risk of your life Annabeth.”

“Like you would know anything about that” Jackson rolled his eyes. 

Athena turned to him properly, eyes glowing in outrage, “You impertinent cockroach! I should have never allowed you to marry my daughter if you were going to convince her to throw her life away so stupidly”

Now Percy was glaring, “I made the deal too. And don’t you dare talk about Annabeth that way. I’m sorry that our priorities have changed since we were teenagers, but that’s what happens, children grow up and leave, and so does the hero worship.”

Annabeth continues for him; it was strange how in sync those two were. “Welcome to the tragedy of being a demigod, mom! It sucks and we don’t get peaceful deaths, at least we’ll be going down for something important, like I don’t know, protecting our children. Something all you gods have monumentally failed at.”

“You are going to die a death no one will remember. Lost to history! All that glory – gone! You will be no one. All to prevent your children from fulfilling their destiny.”

“No.” If Athena thought she was angry, then Annabeth must have been outraged. “All to protect my children from the bloody, broken life I’m still trying to deal with over fourteen years later! I’m trying to break the cycle. If I go down in history and no one remembers my name, then so be it. It will always be worth it.”

Athena wasn’t ready to stop arguing about this. How could her daughter have made such a foolish decision? Did she have no pride in what she had done at all?

“Now, I want you to leave, Mother. And don’t come back unless you want to apologise.”

Athena eyed her daughter in disgust. “What a disappointment.” She disappeared back to Olympus.

~~~

Athena made her way to the cemetery. The camps may have burned their shrouds, but the bodies her buried in the ground like commonfolk mortals. Gravestones as plain and unremarkable as any mortal’s. Unbefitting for a hero of Olympus. It was then, all those years later, that Athena finally understood why they made the deal. The loss of a child is practically too much to bear. She has done it before and will do it again, but this one is different. Life. An eternal Tragedy when you cannot die.

Athena set a bouquet of white poppies and violets on the grave on the left. She laid her on both graves and said a silent prayer.

“What are you doing?”

Athena turned around. The older one had spoken. She had her arm around her brother’s shoulders.

“White poppies, and violets. They were your mother’s favourites. They represented peacefulness, calmness and tranquillity.”

“We know that. Just didn’t know that you knew it.” Freya’s tone wasn’t harsh, just sad. They were grieving, Athena reminded herself.

“I admit, there were many things I didn’t know about my daughter. But I do know that she wanted peace. And I’m sorry she couldn’t get it sooner.”

The boy spoke up, quietly, “Thank you.” He spoke to the ground.

“Take care,” Athena told them, “I fear this is only the start of your journey.”