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Olympus rarely spoke about Pallas’ death, at least not in a way that was easy to notice.
Ever since her appearance on Olympus, Athena’s presence was surrounded by many secrets, most of which were common knowledge if anyone put in the effort to connect the dots. However, whenever someone figured out one of these secrets, they either kept it to themselves or in hushed whispers where their king wouldn’t hear.
When Athena burst out of Zeus’ skull, looking suspiciously similar to Metis, who had been pregnant when she dissapeared, everyone seemed to accept that she was created purely out of the king’s own wisdom. When she was sent to live with Triton, no one batted an eye— not when Zeus was there to listen, at least; despite Triton’s efforts, she had heard what people said about her presence and quickly understood it was unwelcome.
And when she had killed Pallas and was consequently sent to live on Olympus, she was left to deal with it alone.
Of course, some of her family members still harboured kindness for her in their hearts— she understood it, it was much easier to sympathize with a child, yet that didn’t mean she thought she deserved it— and even that had been quick to go once she proved she could handle herself.
(Well, “proved” may have been a strong word for someone who suffered from nightmares at least once a week and rarely went a day without internally panicking. Still, it wasn’t as if anyone noticed or cared.)
The only one who had stuck around in a meaningful way, despite Athena’s expectations, was Hera. She had been the first one, apart from Zeus, to greet her when she came to Olympus. She had also been the one to fetch her for her first meetings, back when she couldn’t quite make her way in the giant kingdom alone and even past that. She had been the one to point out people to her at parties and gatherings, telling her who she could safely approach and who she ought to avoid. She had been the one to introduce her when Zeus was too drunk or busy with… other matters, giving her a chance to set a reputation for herself.
And Athena did just that. It didn’t take her long to set a standard for herself and what other people should expect out of her. Most of the time, she managed to make it work in her favor.
Unfortunately for her, there was one main situation that her own reputation was a nuisance rather than a reason for pride. Even more unfortunately for her, it was a situation that happened yearly.
Of course, she had tried to prepare before: doing all of her work ahead of time, moving the meetings around, making excuses for her absence, all so that she could have this one day for herself.
However, the beach she was on didn’t stay empty for long.
“I thought I’d find you here,” said Hera, sitting down next to Athena on the sand, giving her a bit of distance.
“You always do,” murmured Athena, her eyes downcast as she drew patterns in the sand. “Find me, I mean. You always manage to find me. Sometimes you’re the only one that does.”
The queen hummed, then extended a hand. “You shouldn’t have to suffer alone, not during a day like this, baby. You shouldn’t have to suffer at all.”
“If it’s what the Fates had in store for me… I was too weak to try to change anything about the future back then.” By the sound of her voice, it seemed like she was only a couple of seconds away from crying, yet no tears appeared so far. “I didn’t want to kill her. I didn’t want to do anything to her— I didn’t know that the fight would go like that— I didn’t think my own father would do that— and now she’s…“
“Shh, darling, I know, I know,” soothed Hera, holding Athena in her arms as the dam broke and she finally started crying. “Just try to breathe, that’s it, that’s all I ask…”
At the moment, it seemed like far too great of a thing to ask, but she tried nonetheless. Her cries slowly— so slowly that she was surprised how the day hadn’t ended yet— tapered off into hiccups and occassional small sobs. Thankfully, Hera didn’t move her from her position or even utter a word of complaint. Instead, she kept rubbing her back and running her fingers through her hair, undoing some tangles and knots along the way, murmuring sweet words into her ear.
When Hera noticed that Athena’s tears came slower and her breathing somewhat evened out, she said: “All tired out?”
“I should be,” whispered Athena, one hand trying to wipe away the few remaining tears and the other helping her extricate herself from the hug. “I’m sorry for—“
The queen’s grip on her hand could barely be counted as an attempt to restrain her, but Athena stopped moving anyway. “I don’t mind holding you, sweetheart. If you want to go, you can, but I do not intend to make you leave if you don’t wish to.”
After a moment of thinking and quite possibly weighing her options, the younger goddess leaned back into her stepmother’s hold. “I liked my life back there. It was far from ideal, being a bird in the water, but I liked the people and the habits and the idea of living out my childhood there. It was… home, in a way, I suppose. Maybe not where I was born, but it felt like I was supposed to be there, one way or another.”
Hera nodded against her head, silently urging her to continue talking.
After a few minutes of silence, in a much quieter voice that Hera had to strain to hear, she added: “I loved her, you know? Pallas, I mean. It wasn’t in the way anyone expected me to and I still… I’m not sure why she liked me so much or why she kept hanging around me even when most of her family didn’t approve of it, but… I’m glad she did. I’m not sure what I would have done without her. She was one of the first who was good to me and she helped me so so much and I’m so sorry to have done what I’ve done what I’ve done, to have killed her and I— I—“
With those last words, she suddenly went silent, the tears making their appearance again, albeit slower and almost without noise.
“I killed her.” A beat of silence. “But I loved her. That counts for something, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, it does, darling. Of course it does,” said Hera, once again rubbing her back. The way she was holding her almost made it seem like she was shielding her from the world, from all the horrors she had to witness at an age that was far too young. “What happened wasn’t your fault. I know you don’t believe it, after all this time, but I will keep saying it until you do. I was there in the stands right next to my husband; I saw what happened myself. You were a child at your first tournament; you couldn’t have known what would happen.”
“My first recognisable victory was stained in blood. Quite ironic, isn’t it?” laughed Athena bitterly, sounding angrier than she had in a long time. “I’m so tired of it all. I wish I could have lived there longer. Not even my whole life, just enough to get to call that place home and for it to feel true.”
“I know, baby, I know.” Although Hera didn’t want to admit it for fear of making Athena pull away, she was becoming increasingly concerned with how much she was crying and that she hadn’t stopped.
“That place can still be home for you, if you want. Ideally not to your father or anyone who would tell him, but you have plenty of hiding spots. I certainly won’t tell him.” Athena seemed to pay more attention at her words and her sobs slowed down significantly. “I… When I was younger, during the Titanomachy, I had a few close friends and we had our special places where we would meet. It wasn’t anything grand; their presence was what made it special, the memories we made together.”
She took a deep breath before continuing. It wasn’t often that she gave much thought to her life before being married to Zeus— it brought up too many painful memories that she wouldn’t have anything to do with— but that moment was as good as any. The conversation had already started, she might as well finish it.
“I don’t visit those places often. I can’t make myself to. Most of the time I can’t even make myself think about them. Still, I considered them my family, in a way, and they were my home for a while.” A beat of silence followed. Then a sigh. “They died during the final battle. All of them. I organized their funerals— thank the Fates we managed to find their bodies, others weren’t even that lucky— but I never really got over them. They were a really important part of my life back then and I… I wish they hadn’t died. I wish they got to live the lives they deserved.”
“But they died.”
“But they died,” repeated Hera. “And we lived. And now all that we can do is make sure we honor their memory and live the lives they would have wanted us to. I doubt Pallas would take any joy in seeing you blame yourself over this.”
Her friends would also disapprove of her drowning her sorrows in alcohol as often as she did, but that was an issue for another day.
After a long pause, where they both did nothing other than ponder the words that were spoken, Athena said: “She was a good friend to me.”
“And you were a good friend to her. Anyone could see it.”
“I hope she’s happy, wherever she is. She deserves at least that.”
Hera nodded in agreement and sent out a mental prayer for her friends as well. They deserved a peaceful rest after everything they had done and sacrificed in the war.
“Can we stay here for a while longer? I don’t feel ready to leave yet.”
Even if she wanted to deny, Athena’s voice was so small that Hera couldn’t help agreeing.
The rest of their day was spent on the beach, Athena staying in the safety of her stepmother’s arms. Conversation wasn’t constant, but it flowed with ease.
The day had been a tough one and they both knew that many more would follow in their infinite, immortal lives. However, they knew that they weren’t alone, even in their grief.