~ { Shadow and Beauty } ~

Keep It Simple

Now here was Athena, dressed in jeans and hiking boots and a red flannel shirt, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders. She held a backpack and a walking stick like she was prepared for a long journey.

"I must return home," Athena murmured, studying the map. "The way is complex. I wish Odysseus were here. He would understand."

"Mom!" Annabeth said. "Athena!"

The goddess turned. She seemed to look right through Annabeth with no recognition. "That was my name," the goddess said dreamily. "Before they sacked my city, took my identity, made me this." She looked at her clothes in disgust. "I must return home."

Annabeth stepped back in shock. "You're... you're Minerva?"

"Don't call me that!" The goddess's gray eyes flared with anger. "I used to carry a spear and a shield. I held victory in the palm of my hand. I was so much more than this."

"Mom." Annabeth's voice trembled. "It's me, Annabeth. Your daughter."

"My daughter..." Athena repeated. "Yes, my children will avenge me. They must destroy the Romans. Horrible, dishonorable, copycat Romans. Hera argued that we must keep the two camps apart. I said, No, let them fight. Let my children destroy the usurpers."

Annabeth's heartbeat thumped in her ears. "You wanted that? But you're wise. You understand warfare better than any—"

"Once!" the goddess said. "Replaced. Sacked. Looted like a trophy and carted off—away from my beloved homeland. I lost so much. I swore I would never forgive. Neither would my children." She focused more closely on Annabeth. "You are my daughter?"

"Yes."

The goddess fished something from the pocket of her shirt—an old-fashioned subway token—and pressed it into Annabeth's hand. "Follow the Mark of Athena," the goddess said. "Avenge me."

Annabeth had looked at the coin. As she watched, it changed from a New York subway token to an ancient silver drachma, the kind used by Athenians. It showed an owl, Athena's sacred animal, with an olive branch on one side and a Greek inscription on the other.

The Mark of Athena.

At the time, Annabeth had had no idea what it meant. She didn't understand why her mom was acting like this. Minerva or not, she shouldn't be so confused.

"Mom..." She tried to make her tone as reasonable as possible. "Percy is missing. I need your help." She had started to explain Hera's plan for bringing the camps together to battle Gaea and the giants, but the goddess stamped her walking stick against the marble floor.

"Never!" she said. "Anyone who helps Rome must perish. If you would join them, you are no child of mine. You have already failed me."

"Mother!"

"I care nothing about this Percy. If he has gone over to the Romans, let him perish. Kill him. Kill all the Romans. Find the Mark, follow it to its source. Witness how Rome has disgraced me, and pledge your vengeance."

"Athena isn't the goddess of revenge." Annabeth's nails bit into her palms. The silver coin seemed to grow warmer in her hand. "Percy is everything to me."

"And revenge is everything to me," the goddess snarled. "Which of us is wiser?"

"Something is wrong with you. What's happened?"

"Rome happened!" the goddess said bitterly. "See what they have done, making a Roman of me. They wish me to be their goddess? Then let them taste their own evil. Kill them, child."