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It’s another sleepless night, one where Scar’s body won’t allow him to rest. His brain continues to run, waiting with apprehension for something to happen, for the other shoe to drop. He takes one look at a sleeping Grian, and sighs, pushing himself up and out of bed. He doesn’t go very far, just a few feet away where he can keep Grian in his sights, guarding him from whatever may dare to disturb his sleep.
Scar sits down on the steps, balcony behind him as he hangs his head. His hair falls in his eyes. It’s long. He never noticed how long his hair was, maybe he should ask Grian to cut it sometime soon. It’s… just another memory. One he’s not sure he wants to hold onto so visually.
He looks down at his hands. Scars line his skin, tracing over his palms and the backs of them. All he’s met with is tan skin and pale scars, but Scar feels like he can still feel the blood on them. He can still see the blood. The red staining tan. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to wash it away, that it’s something he’ll be forced to carry with him for the rest of his days. It’s just another memory. Another reminder.
There’s a soft burst of air from behind him, warm and powerful all at once. The soft hoot of an owl, and Scar doesn’t even have to turn to know who has come to see him. He feels his chest ache, feels it pull at him and sit heavy over his heart. An odd sort of grief appears, tasting salty on his tongue. How can one feel grief over a connection that was one sided? A connection that he held close and dear but so easily threw away? If he was able to discard it without hesitation, then how much had it meant to him?
He drops his hands, sighing quietly. Silence stretches on between them, weighed down by everything that brought them to this very moment.
Scar doesn’t raise his head, “...you were right.” She was right about so many things. He went soft. He leaned far too much into the idea of mercy, and it led him down a dark, terrifyingly lonely path. His mercy is the reason why he came home alone. His mercy is the reason why he failed his men. “I should have listened to you.”
He hears her sigh softly, ever so softly.
A weight settles beside him, and from the corner of his eye, Scar can see her long dress. He bites the inside of his cheek. “I… want you to know that I still consider you family. Even if you don’t accept it… even if I was just your failed pupil, I’ve always considered you to be a part of my family.”
She doesn’t answer immediately, allowing the quiet atmosphere to continue to sit, permeating the air as Scar’s words rest. And then – “I still kept watch over you, y’know.” She follows it with another exhale, the sound of rustling clothes signaling her movement. “Even after I had my goodbye. I couldn’t.. bring myself to completely abandon you.”
Scar’s head shoots up, his eyes widening as he turns to the Goddess of Wisdom. He stares at her with open shock, not bothering to hide it. “What?” he asks. “Athena you–”
“Pearl,” she interrupts oddly gently, passing him a small smile. She’s leaning back on her arms, her helmet set aside beside her. “It’s a nice name I picked up while visiting.”
Scar continues to stare at her, growing more puzzled by the second. He feels like he’s been titled sideways, unsure of how to proceed. Would it be disrespectful to address her in such a way? “This isn’t one last trick to really damn me, is it?” He squints at her.
Athena– Pearl laughs. She actually laughs! Her lips curl in a softer smile, the sweet melody of her laughter dancing in the air. “I can understand why you love them so much, your family.” She nods her head in the direction of Grian, where he continues to sleep peacefully, oblivious of the goddess in their bedroom. “Grian is snarky, mischievous, and quick witted, but he’s very kind; gentle but firm with Peder.” Scar gapes at her. “Oh! And Little Peder, the nugget! He shares a lot of your qualities. He’s got quite a bit of promise when he grows older.”
“What are you…” Scar trails off, slowly piecing together what Pearl is saying, admitting.
“I kept an eye on Grian and Peder while they waited for you to come home,” she says with a gentle hum. “Honestly I had always been so curious about them. They were your main motivation for twelve years of battle, my curiosity was only natural.” There’s a fond look in her eyes as she speaks, the sort of fondness one could only have after spending years with a person.
“You looked after them,” Scar breathes, feeling his chest swell with warmth, gratitude. “All this time.”
Pearl nods, “Nearly every day for the past two years.” She shifts again, reaching into her pocket. She pulls a folded piece of paper out, holding it so Scar can also see it. Holding the paper in a delicate grip, she carefully unfolds it. The paper is creased from the folds, showing Scar it’s well loved and important. Pearl takes her time with opening up the paper until it’s fully opened, showing a drawing of her, Grian, and Pitta.
Scar finds his eyes watering as Pearl wordlessly offers the paper to him. With trembling hands, Scar accepts it. It’s clear that it was drawn by someone talented, and Scar has one guess of who the artist is.
“Peder drew that for me a year ago,” Pearl explains, proving Scar’s assumption correct. “He’s a good artist.”
Ever so gingerly does Scar run his fingers over the front of the drawing. “Yeah…” he murmurs, voice wet, “yeah, he is.”
“He gave that to me after calling me his aunt,” Pearl chuckles, fondness spilling from her in waves. “And naturally, I’ve kept this on me ever since he gave it to me.”
Scar chuckles in return, knowing he would’ve done the same, if given the chance. Any gift from Pitta would have been precious; is precious. To learn he’s an artist makes Scar’s chest clench with love. His throat feels clogged, and he’s rendered speechless by this little piece of his family’s life in his hands.
Beside him, Pearl opens and closes her mouth a few times, as if trying to find the proper words. Her brows furrow in thought. Scar doesn’t rush her, doesn’t interrupt. He’s not sure that he can.
“Scar you were never a failed pupil of mine,” she finally lands on, eyes focusing on the paper in his hands. The edges of her lips tilt low, dipping as she stares. “You made mistakes, you allowed your heart to get in the way, but a failure? Far from it.” Pearl reaches out, gently pulling the paper from Scar’s hands. “Back then I… I hadn’t understood. Humans, I couldn’t understand you. All of your complex emotions and thoughtless decisions.” She sets the drawing on her lap, as if it will crumble into dust if she isn’t careful.
“But..?” Scar carefully probes, terrified of the potential eggshells that he may be stepping on.
Pearl goes quiet, thinking. “They had a lot to teach me. About humanity,” she answers, thoughtful in timbre. “For the past two years I’ve been visiting them, and I learned what it’s like to be human. From watching Grian juggle raising your son while fending off anyone who wanted his hand in marriage.” Scar tenses at the mention of suitors. “From watching Pitta’s kindness in every form, his pure love for both you, and Grian, and eventually, myself. I started to understand you.” She looks at him, her expression so clear and openly set in remorse. “I regret parting ways with you back then, how it ended. You’re a brilliant warrior, Scar. But you are an even greater man.”
The words strike hard, leaving Scar’s chest panging. He sucks in a breath, his vision blurring as his tears recollect themselves, growing. He can’t believe all this happened while he was on his journey home. That Pearl even went out of her way to look after his family. That Pearl went out of her way to understand him. That she cared that much. Maybe Scar truly wasn’t the only one who held their bond close. Maybe it wasn’t one sided after all.
For some reason, he recalls the Underworld, and all of the faces he saw there. He can never forget it, not with the way every moment down there has been burned into his memory. He recalls the grief, seeing Bdubs again. Seeing his mother. It had taken everything in him to hold himself together in front of his men. He couldn’t have fallen apart in front of them, not when things were already straining, tensions were already rising as the strings of trust snapped one after the other. But grief had consumed him with every step.
He mourned his mother. But he also mourned the loss it meant for Grian.
Grian had told him once that he had no family. His parents were long gone, and he never had any siblings. When Scar married him, he swore that Grian would never feel that loneliness, that pain. Scar’s mother became Grian’s, and Scar was so happy that his husband had the chance to experience a family outside of just him. It’s one of the reasons why he had been overjoyed when they found Pitta.
Finding his mother in the Underworld, learning she passed while Scar was away was devastating. Doubly so when he realized he broke his promise to Grian. Because it meant that Grian was all alone in raising their son for who knows how long. Knowing that, carrying that weight left Scar shedding more tears than he could’ve counted. Never had he so badly wanted to hold his husband in his arms, or be held by him, just to make sure Grian wasn’t alone anymore.
But now he sees it. As Pearl, the very goddess who had left him, explains that she visited his family, that she became a part of it, he realizes. A weight lifts from his already heavy shoulders. He didn’t leave Grian completely alone.
His promise wasn’t entirely broken.
Scar can’t hold them back anymore, can’t keep his emotions at bay. “I was so wrong.” The tears spill over, trailing down his face like crystalline streaks. “I thought — I thought I had left Grian all alone, that he had no one besides our son,” he quietly sobs, trying to stay quiet. He doesn’t want to wake Grian up. “But I couldn’t have been more wrong. Because he had you.” Scar turns to Pearl with his tears, his gratitude. He weeps, whether from sadness or relief, he doesn’t know. Maybe both. “Thank you – thank you Pearl.”
Pearl’s face softens. She reaches for his hand, her palms just as rough as his own. “I owe you a thanks as well, Scar.” She squeezes. “I didn’t realize what I was missing until those two welcomed me into their home. If we hadn’t argued, I don’t think I ever would have found this.”
Without thinking twice about it, Scar leans into Pearl’s space, pulling the goddess into a tight hug. She stiffens on instinct but doesn’t pull away from him. “Thank you for preventing my family from being alone.” Thank you for being a part of it. His tears continue to trail, little drops dropping against Pearl’s shoulder. Some catch in her hair.
He feels her embrace him, and Scar thinks this is the first time they’ve ever hugged before. It’s nice, secure.
“Of course,” Pearl mumbles, voice soft. “Contrary to what you may believe Scar, I’m hard to get rid of.” Her voice is cheeky as she says it, and Scar replies with a mix of laugh and sob.
“I’m glad.” His family is so small now (and he’s to blame). “I—”
“Scar?” Grian’s sleepy voice cuts through the air like an arrow, causing Scar to stiffen.
In a moment before Scar can even blink, Pearl is gone, vanishing practically out of thin air. His arms drop, and he sniffles weakly. “S-Sorry, did I wake you?” he stammers out.
“A bit, but it’s alright.” Grian slides himself out of bed, standing up. “Sleep isn’t as important as you are.” He walks over to Scar, kneeling in front of him. Scar doesn’t shy away, doesn’t hide. Grian is quiet as he reaches for him, holding his face in his hands. His thumb gently wipes away a falling tear. “Oh Scar,” he exhales quietly, and that’s all it takes for Scar to crumble right into his arms. Grian moves closer to hold him.
Unbeknownst to Scar, right in the place of where Pearl was sitting, rests an owl’s feather.