Chapter Text
Chapter 1
The golden chariot crossed through the sky, the embodiment of the sun shining with grace and warmth to the mortals and immortals alike.
Apollon whistled, admiring the view from his place, a firm grip on the reins to avoid any accident. Truly, Father had started the day in an excellent mood, keeping the clouds of rain and the threat of lightning away while the blue of a beautiful, exciting morning spread around.
To this point, everyone on Hellas, and maybe even in Assyria, knew of the dispute for a city’s patronage between Sharp-eyed, Strategic Warfare and Maiden Weaver, and the king of the sea, the Earth-shaker and Storm-bringer, and all those epithets humans were so fond of. Yet perhaps only a select group, which included the inhabitants of the yet-to-be named city, knew the presentation of gifts was set today.
His sister and uncle had followed the old traditions, leaving the mortals to choose their patron for themselves. Which was nice of them, he supposed. More entertaining for both, and for the rest. Besides, humans were such curious beings; they could come up with ideas that made gods and goddesses raise both eyebrows, and then die in the most stupid way possible only an immortal blink later.
Must be this same dichotomy that had left him without a clear vision of the results, thought something on his domains had been tugging at him incessantly since early morning.
Well, surprises are exciting, he mused, his eyes drifting for an instant to a beautiful nymph frolicking on a flower meadow, long, dark hair like pine needles to her knees and sun-kissed skin. His heart fluttered, and his rays of light briefly caressed her hair, provoking a sweet laugh. Satisfied for the little greeting and looking forward to the hours after finishing his job, Apollon’s continued.
As the chariot crossed above a fisher village, the boredom persuaded him to split the smallest piece of his attention to the still unnamed city.
Oh, sister, Apollon felt like a little shit for grinning so wide yet he didn’t fight against from the enjoyment. He had known she was nervous about this matter, being the first time she would be competing with their uncle and that, but no, Apollon, you must be letting your expectations influence your perception, this matter is under control, bla bla bla. And now, look at her feathers! All them tightened against her neck as if she were preparing to march to war.
Thankfully, mortals couldn't see her divine form, only the mirage that she wove, the perfect image of a goddess in polished armor and complete control of herself.
Cute. But this didn’t mean anything to their nosy family. Their uncle was there, so his father would get wind of the matter in a couple of hours at the party (and yes, there would be one regardless of the outcome of the competition); surprisingly, his father seemed to be keeping his word to avoid watching before the mortals made their decision. Which was wise of Athena, to ask for this. They could be so weak, the mortals; it would only end on tears if they got a bit of much to attention from their father.
Now, getting back to the main topic, a smile bloomed on his lips. Poor Athy, getting so flustered by the attention. His smile grew wider, thinking on the family table at night. Better you than me, sister. He was growing tired of listening about his childhood stories those days, after that little shit of Hermes sold him to father and everyone learned about his newest relationship. Fresher news would be certainly appreciated.
Turning his attention to Uncle Poseidon before his older sister could notice —and get cranky—, Apollon admired his composure. Only his hair showed signs of what he was really feeling; long, thick strands like horsehair with a shine that glided between them like life in the deep waters. Although he didn't know if his excitement was because of the competition or because he was sharing time with his niece; his uncle and sea-family had practically raised her those first decades after their father—
The sudden eyes on him stopped his thoughts, and Apollon smiled nervously at his uncle. He hadn’t been quick enough to slip away before being caught so he could only hope the older god wouldn’t be too mad.
… The king of the gods was not the only one asked not to intrude, after all.
Thanks to Tyche, his uncle only snorted at him, hitting him with the equivalent of a bunch of drops of water that stung his nose with a strong smell of salt and seaweed. He sneezed, and wrinkled his nose, thankful that he wasn’t getting a bath of smelly seaweed like last time.
Understood, uncle. Apollon removed all traces of his attention from the scene, focusing determinedly ahead. It wouldn’t end good if his uncle got angry, after all.
Sea deities were so temperamental.
Triton still resented him for Hermes’ idea of a prank from like three decades ago. Which, to his defense, he didn’t believe it was so bad. Maybe they should haven’t use so much golden (and that stinky glue they found on his other uncle’s kingdom, or Aunt Demeter’s latest flower collage). Such a masterpiece. Apollo still owned Hypnos a favor for bringing the image on his last breakup, it brightened those sad times.
It could have been just a couple of minutes, or hours, when the sky turned suddenly black, towering clouds of storm that reminded Apollon’s of that time where a nefarious, ill minded mortal had offered to their father the meat of his own child. His father’s rage had been so strong, his punishment so blooded, that not even the name of that human had been left. His body faded yet his sins persisted on the records of the few survivors, who spread it. No one wanted a repetition.
While his father's anger threatened to erupt at any moment, Apollon exerted the best of his efforts and tried to reign the chariot. The difficult, as always, lay on the horses. Thy were a pain on his ass, worse than before Helios faded away. He still didn’t know what Triton had told to them to make them behave like this for him, and then melt on his cousin’s hands. Unfair, totally unfair.
And then, as if all this Call Before Storm wasn’t worrisome enough, a sudden tug on his divinity almost made him lose the control of the reins. A very, very urgent call. From his father and from the same direction than both of them had been asked to avoid.
He split his consciousness, leaving only the bare minimum up there to avoid crashing the chariot. Something had happened and his family needed him right, this was the only thing that mattered right now.
O – o – O
“The city will be called Athens on your honor, my Lady,” the mortal king Cecrops said, face flushed and trembling hands from his position on the floor. Next to him, a group of elders surrounded the gnarled trunk that spurt from the earth, its silvery-green leaves swaying in the breeze. The blue-and-green fountain rested at its other side, quiet.
Athens, she repeated on her mind, savoring the taste the name of her own city.
A familiar breeze of salt and seagrass caressed her cheeks and ruffled her air. “A beautiful craftsmanship, niece,” her uncle said, voice warm. His turquoise eyes reflected the like the waters that bathed the closest shores, thought she knew it wouldn’t last for too much.
Feathers fluttered inside her, the pride of his voice filling her with warm. Yet, despite she didn’t wish to recognize it, some guilt lingered. If the mortals had not been so quick to dismiss her uncle's gift as nothing more than undrinkable water, if they would have waited to hear about the benefits of coral craftsmanship and the latest technology in Atlantis, or even if she had presented her original gift first...
Her uncle tapped her shoulder, and ruffling the feathers of her tensed wings with gentle claws, soothing them in a well-practiced gesture. “Stop,” he rumbled, the faint distant vibration of earth movement. It brought to her the memories of lessons under the sea, of times she thought of him as a grandparent instead of an uncle. Her father, thought he loved her since her birth, had only welcomed to Olympus after a long recovery, when the sea had become part of her.
“My son’s heart must be flood with pride,” Poseidon’s mused, amusement coloring his words. He stood next to her on divine presence, but his mortal construct was still on his original place. (It was a welcomed gesture; mortals, for all the goodness of their intelligent minds, suffered greatly from the whims of a certain type of creativity. She was sure Aphrodite was involved in the majority of such cases, as the creature prone to daydream as she was.)
Athena’s wings flickered. Truly, it had been very wise of her to make sure no one from her family was watching over the competition until they said it was all over, as she was sure she would not have been able to live after the embarrassing sound that came out of her throat. This wasn’t the time first she wished she had obtained some control over the land.
Poseidon’s chuckle echoed with the laughter of horses and dolphins, and it was the last sound she heard before a severing pain spread through her body.
The brightness of the fountain blinded her and she connected the pieces instantly, but it was in vain. The earth trembled, not due her, as she crashed on the ground, her uncle’s anguished whines echoing around, mixed with the screams of mortals. Distantly, she could felt the beginning of a storm, but her attention was frayed, strained by her boiling blood and agony.
This couldn’t be anything but the agony that Athena had believed to have freed herself after taking the name of ‘Parthenos’, when she witnessed her brothers Ares and Hephaestus’ birth, what this did to her stepmother.
Why, then? Why was her divinity being ripped and yanked like threads from a tapestry? She tried to gather them, fear taking control of her actions –because part of her was so sure that nothing good would come of all this, she knew that there would only be a cold body at the end of it; foam, if the boy leaned toward his father’s side. Hers? Perhaps broken yarn, stained with melted gold.
A wounded, deep hoot burst from her chest. She didn’t know when the pain stopped, but she felt the moment they came to her. Green and blue and golden feathers surrounded her, bringing warm and comfort and anchoring her thoughts, her ragged divinity.
It was too late, she knew, tears flowing down her checks. Too late. Athena herself held the blame of condemning her chick to Hades’ kingdom; she hadn't even tried to offer a domain, too realist and selfish. How would she face Poseidon now, who mourned each one of their children, turning their foam into pearls to be able to held them at least once? Her parents, whose heart bleed for a grandchild to dote?
Distantly, she could see her grandfather –uncle kneeling on the floor, embracing himself while the darkness of the depths surrounded him but leaving him still visible for them. Sadness drowned him, visible in each one of the lines of his body. As Athena closed her eyes, the feathers of her wings widening, trembling and shaking, a useless attempt to hide herself.
Her stepmother grasped her shoulder once before sliding to Poseidon, leaving her inside her father’s embrace.
“My daughter,” her father caressed her hair with his talons, coaxing her with a gentleness that she knew at that moment she did not deserve. “It’s alright, you’ll be fine,” he murmured, kissing her head. “My brave daughter.”
Athena opened her mouth but not mortal or immortal words came out. Instead, what she heard was the heartbreaking cry of a child.
Time seemed to stand still for a heartbeat, then everything broke loose.
No thoughts crossed her mind. She lunged towards the fountain, barely aware of her uncle doing the same.
(She would felt embarrassed later, maybe, for the way she had pushed her own father aside and almost clawed her uncle’s arm, but now her attention was entirely on the water.)
She reached the closest side of the fountain only a half-second before than his uncle, turning into a size equal to that of a human. Her form changed too, more aviar, so she could perch on the coral. To think that early morning, this exquisite masterpiece had made her felt like a goddess born a few months ago, still trying to learn how to weave from the queen of the seal. Her amphora, for all her attempts, wasn’t what she believed to be the expected standard of herself.
(That the mortals preferred the fruit of her fleeting interest in agriculture was other matter altogether.)
Yes, the coral fountain was so exquisite, so well-crafted. Yet Athena paid no mind to the details that had captivated her attention only a mortal moment ago; it was the origin of the cry within that held her breath, that kept her eyes sharp-focused on the turbulent waters. She could feel her father and step-mother skirting on the edges of scene, not quite approaching. But present.
(They understood, she supposed, the mangled feelings of parenthood better than her.)
“Uncle,” she called, her voice barely higher than the ruffles of feathers, anxiety growing as the water hit the edges of the fountain, a storm trashing inside, and no sign of the child –her child, could be seen. What was the use of her Sharp Eyes if she…? Oh, oh. “Uncle-” she whispered, wide eyed, after finally seeing him.
Poseidon’s laugh echoed around, wet and trembling and so gentle that none would believe that this was the same god whose anger had drowned cities, whose pain had marred the land and claw open the clouds. The same one who with a gesture of his fingers calmed the fountain, eyes full-black, the glint of pearls.
“Hello, there,” he whispered, to the fountain-eyed babe that peeked from under the surface.
Slowly, and little by little, hair as black as squid ink and gently curving like waves, soft skin pale as if her brother’s light had never reached him, revealed. He was so tiny, still on the waters of the fountain, as if waiting for the perfect moment to come out. Athena wanted only to launch herself ahead and pick him up and don’t let the world see him for maybe two or three centuries, until he was more a man than boy and could protect himself. Perhaps even more.
“Come on,” her uncle called, clicking sounds coming out his mouth.
The babe clicked at him, and then his eyes grew even bigger and round, and he promptly submerged himself, leaving only a blurred silhouette visible.
Athena tilted her head, considering. He isn’t afraid, she thought. “… He’s embarrassed,” she said, slowly, blinking. “Our son, is shy.”
They both ignored her father’s chuckle and “I wonder from where he picked it,”, though she noticed the faint twitch of his uncle’s face, as if he were holding back a smile.
Poseidon stretched a hand and flexed one of his fingers as if he were calling the water. Slowly, a current formed across the fountain, gently tugging at their son. “He’s resisting,” wonder and amusement mixed on his voice. He made a series of clicks and then rumbled in a very familiar way, which almost made her respond reflexively. Luckily, she controlled herself, and added her own call to their obstinate son.
A whine came from the water, making her wings flicker; she trilled at him, reassuring, while her uncle’s divine form spread across the fountain until he was behind their child. He even got smaller, resting his head on the edge, “Come on, my son, your father’s here.”
Athena gripped the fountain, careful of not to damaging the coral with her talons, and leaned on. “You can come to me,” she tried to use her softest voice, not quite used but making her best effort. “Come to your mother.”
The babe emerged little by little, still on the same place, and glanced around them both, uncertainty on his eyes. Perhaps splinting was a mistake, she thought.
And then, before any progress could be made, a flash of gold struck the space next the fountain. As their child squealed and hid again, Athena’s instincts took control of her, thoughts of her very tiny, very fragile child too close to the newcomer flooding her mind.
Swiveling her head back, she let out a loud screech that spread through the air like thunder.
Apollon almost stumbled back, his wolf-like ears flattened against his head. He raised his hands, words pouring out of his mouth in a quite familiar way, “Alright, alright, everything’s alright, sister. I—” He started walking backwards, increasing the distance between him and the fountain, until a hand on his shoulder stopped him. He sighed, relief on his face. “Father? I’m so sorry, something came and made me late, couldyoupleasetellmewhymyssisterwantstoeatme?”
Athena closed her mouth with a soft click. “I don’t wish to harm you, brother.”
“Yeah, your warm welcoming is certainly appreciated,” the sun god muttered, squinting his eyes towards her.
“Son, Athena has very good reasons to fret,” Father said, grasping him by the shoulder and gently tugging him aside. “And you’re lucky. If you had landed just a few meters further ahead, your uncle would not have been so kind as to simply warn you as your sister.”
Apollon frowned. He ran his tongue over his fangs, glancing at everyone as if he would find the answer on them.
Athena stopped herself from asking him if he had not Seen anything about this. Chances were slim, because Apollon was the god of many things but Subtlety wasn’t one of them.
“Your father called you because joyful news,” Hera inserted gracefully in the talk yet despite her words, her serious expression tightened his. She turned to the fountain, face carefully blank, and Apollon’s eyes followed her movement, his body going unnaturally still as he finally found what was happening.
“Come closer, nephew,” Uncle said, eyes the color of fountain water.
With a flash of golden light, Apollon was suddenly between them both, eyes shining like the sun. As he crouched, the water churned and then calmed down just a second later, but their child had already dived lower until none could see anything more of him.
Shy. Her owlet was shy.
Apollon stretched one of his hands, his fingers barely touching the water before his skin glowed and sunlight tendrils slipped out of his fingertips, gliding into the fountain towards their son. Slowly, the water shone, and a nest of golden silk emerged, carrying a tiny babe. His dry little face wrinkled up as he appeared, and the water began swirling around him, clawing at the strange essence.
Uncle slipped into the water and reached him before the first wail, missing claws as he gathered their son. Athena jumped in only a blink before him, flanking their little one from the other side. As the baby hiccupped, Uncle ran a hand through the black locks of thin hair, and his deep purr rippled through the waters. Their son blinked, big teary-eyes and cheeks as round and red as if someone had brushed the hearth fire on them.
Big teary-eyes that looked at her and then changed, green-fountain turning into silvery-green.
Pride swelled her chest and she cooed at him. His little face wrinkled, and thought Uncle rumbled again, happy and proud and ‘I’m here, nothing will go wrong’, their babe still looked quite unhappy. Could be…?
She tweeted at Apollon. Do something. Is him in pain? Hurry up-
Apollon let out a startled sound as was dragged into the fountain and his brightness intensified, shedding light on them. The babe startled, and looked at Apollon from under his father embrace with a frown. He was surprisingly similar to her uncle; but Athena focused more on the fact that he no longer seemed so shy, perhaps because now that he was with his parents, he knew there was nothing to fear.
Apollon’s eyes shone, sunlight pouring after a long day of rain, as he made use of his domain of medicine. “That’s right, little one, no reason to cry, um?” he murmured softly, leaning on his direction.
“N’g,” their baby complained, bringing a clenched fist to his mouth and squinting his eyes, still looking at Apollon and then at the golden threads on the wrist of his free arm. Finally, his face softened as Apollon’s hummed at him, quiet and watchful, eyes changing between shades of green.
Suddenly, Apollon tensed, eyes flickering to both of them with a quiet horror that made her chest heavy. He swallowed hard, and slowly, the tendrils scattered in the air like ashes in the wind.
Poseidon let out a hiss, his own power coiling around the fountain and all of them, judging for his brother’s tense back. She felt the tingle of lighting on the air and heard the rustle of long feathers and knew when his brother did too because he let out a soft sigh, relaxing his shoulders.
“Uncle, sister,” the god of Medicine said, “your son is healthy as any mortal child.”
Athena tilted her head, part of her clinging to the last word while the other part focused on his paraphrasing. “You meant he’s healthy.”
“Not sickness no corruption hunts him,” he confirmed, and then, licking his lips, he added, “except, half of him is still mortal.”
In her youth, Athena had accompanied her aunt Demeter to the fields on occasion, and seen the farmers' weapon in motion, how the curved blade slid through the air like a sword and cut the stalk without hesitation. For some reason, she felt as if the words were that same sickle. It was appropriate, she supposed. Time… time would steal her son from her.
“He’s healthy,” her uncle, her child’s father pressed on.
“Yes, yes, like I already told you, the baby-”
“Not baby!” the babe, the babe interrupted, and Athena’s attention went straight to him. “Me Percy, not baby.”
Percy.
Her child’s name was Percy.
“Percy,” she murmured.
And the babe looked at her, sea-eyes round and big like a seal, and gave her a gummy smile, “yes!”
It was at that very moment that Athena decided that it didn't matter if he was half or three-quarters mortal, or if his divinity was as insignificant as the children of the gods who had already faded, or of those minor-gods that Titans spread as seeds on the air. This little one, this miracle, was her son, and she would protect him until her last day. She would wave war for him, and slice her own talons through anyone who tried to harm even one of his silky hairs.
Because Percy was her precious child.
“Don’t worry,” her father’s voice came from behind her. She hadn’t feel him approach, but then, her attention ahd been focused on her son. “Mortality might be the fate of mortals, but death won’t steal him from your arms, my daughter. I promise you both that I’ll grant him the greatest gift the moment he reaches adulthood, I swear in Styx and Khaos name.”
Thunder boomed and lighting fell down at his words.
Finally, Uncle Poseidon sighed. “Well,” he started smiling, cradling their child gently on his hands, “I suppose I’ve a couple of years to plan a better gift for our son’s coming of age. It would be embarrassing for me if my brother’s gift is liked than mine.”
Apollon laughed softly, face softened now that the solution has been found. “Father has it easy now,” he joked, showing a bit of his canines in his smile.
“What's so embarrassing about my gift being the best? I remind you all, Poseidon’s has already two sons but this little one is my only grandchild-” he stopped, wincing, and then corrected himself under his wife’s eyes and the amusement of the rest, “our only grandchild, of course my gift will be the best of all.”
“Oh, I don’t know about all,” her stepmother said, smiling at the betrayed face of her husband.
Meanwhile, Athena peered at her little owlet, looking sweet and peaceful now. It would be unwise on her part to challenge her uncle and her father, knowing well their pride. At least aloud. Instead, she would use the next years as she watched over his tiny baby and learned about him what gift would be the best one. She had less time she wished to practice but she was sure she would be able to win.
She expected nothing less when her baby was born in the city who chose her.