Chapter Text
Scamandrius was not a baby who took well to goat’s milk or bread soaked in water.
When Apollo suggested Rhea feed him herself like she had done with Antipater with Apollo’s help, she refused. Andromache was his mother, she was the last one to feed him like that. Rhea wasn’t going to take that away from her.
Still, her baby needed to eat, so Scamandrius started on solids. Culturally, most children still had milk alongside normal food until they were two, but Rhea saw no harm in switching him to pure solids at a year old.
“Mama!” Antipater complained as she picked the apple pieces from her hair. “He’s doing it on purpose!”
“No, he’s not.” Olivia rolled her eyes at her younger sister. “He’s a baby. You’ll have one too someday, and then you’ll see.”
Her girls had matured so much in such a short time, Rhea felt like time was slipping through her fingers yet again. Olivia was nearing 15 already, and on her second betrothal after the dark message from Egypt that plagues had hit, and there was a profound loss of sons. Olivia had been passed on to the next eldest living son, and Neffie wasn’t replying to Rhea’s letters.
Antipater, on the other hand, was becoming a proficient fighter and an even more proficient weaver. She took to tying knots like a fish to water, and was now halfway complete with her first ever bolt of cloth. Rhea had to hand it to her, she had been pleasantly surprised by her daughter. Finally, their family had a weaver who could help make clothes for the island.
“Girls,” Rhea chided softly. “It’s just new to him. Scamandrius has never felt an apple pulp, or how it feels to make it into pulp, or what things look like flying in the air. He’ll get bored of it one day.”
“Do you think we ever run out of new things?” Olivia asked, giving her a strange look.
“I think that there is something new to experience every day,” Rhea replied, picking up her son.
At least, she hoped there was. The future, for her, was infinite and immortal. Stretching forever forward until there was no more left to do, and then it all just… Faded.
“And today, you get to experience helping me feed your baby brother.” She said, using a rag to wipe at Scamandrius’ face. “And cleaning up is part of it. Come on.”
Both girls whined and dragged their feet, but they helped her with little insincere frowns that hid their smiles.
***
Olivia had grown up much too fast.
That was the only thought in Rhea’s head as she saw her baby get married.
She walked down the hallway of the Egyptian palace, in a dress made of hundreds of cowrie shells with beads in her braids, and a smile on her face. She walked into a new family with a smile on her face, tall and proud, not a hint of the fear and hesitation that Rhea had seen that morning.
Scamandrius clutched Antipater’s dress, the toddler and teen watching as their eldest sibling went through the ritual of marriage.
Nefertari was stone-faced alongside her husband, but a trace of sourness could be found in the turn of her lips. Her two eldest sons were dead, and while it was presumed that the child she was pregnant with was another son, it wasn’t the same. While still the first wife of the Pharaoh, which made her the highest ranking Queen, she had lost her chance to have her line inherit the throne of Egypt, and thus lost a lot of the respect she carried. That, alongside the grief she knew her friend was suffering from, made Rhea wish to reach out and embrace her friend, but she couldn’t. They were both acting as queens, and as such had a duty to be impassive and unemotional until they were called upon.
With Nefertari’s two sons dead, Olivia’s hand would ordinarily be passed to the next eldest, Queen Isetnofret’s first-born, the Crown Prince Ramesses. However, the boy had been ravaged by the plagues which targeted all firstborn sons, and while he had survived, it was unlikely for the young man to ever produce his own heir, and so Olivia had been once more passed to the next eldest.
Prince Khaemweset appeared to be the good sort, only a year older than her daughter, and had recently taken part in the military. In the field, he had been chosen by Ptah as his divine vessel and also found comfort in religion. He was studious, approving of Olivia’s own studies, and was in no rush to have heirs of his own. It was a good match.
Nefertari’s firstborn had been a good match.
Rhea resisted sighing as Apollo’s steadying hand on her nape massaged her neck, reminding her that, in the end, this marriage was a good thing. It was still likely that Olivia will end up Queen of Egypt. Or, if Ramesses lived long enough, her children will be Kings and Queens.
She played her part as proud queen and weeping mother perfectly, didn’t even have to fake the tears when the priest called her up to cry over her daughter starting her own household apart from hers.
It was later at the feast, with Scamandrius asleep on her lap, that her friend finally approached her.
“She looks beautiful,” Nefertari offered. “Olivia has grown much since her visit.”
Rhea inclined her head. “She has.”
They stand in silence for a second, merely observing.
Antipater was talking with the princess Meritamen, in a debate that both young women did not seem to mind was taking place in two separate languages. Rhea should encourage that friendship later, it would be good for Antipater to know another girl with the same social status as her. The same expectations as her.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Neffie spoke first. “It is not easy losing a son.”
“Don’t,” Rhea shook her head. “You lost two of your own at the same time, it should be I apologizing to you. We are allies, and I ignored you in your time of need.”
Neffied grabbed her hand, forcing her to turn to her. “You had your own needs. Even if you had come, I would have ignored you. I barely responded to Hathor and Ramesses in those days, I put all my focus on my kingdom.”
It was a shared sentiment. Rhea had ignored the world too much as well.
She squeezed the hand back.
“I’m immortal now,” Rhea told Neffie. “Yet I feel more mortal than ever, today.”
Her friend shot back a feline grin, the first smile from her all night. “That’s the beauty of time, isn’t it?”
“Hello Hathor,” Rhea smiled back. “It sure is.”
Hathor faded back into Neffie with a savage grin. “She’s been itching for control since you two came in. She’s glad to know she made a friend she can’t outlive.”
“I’m glad for it too.” She’ll outlive everyone now, but she refuses to pre-emptively mourn when every second is precious now. “Perhaps we should go flying together.”
“You’ve taken a bird as your symbol?” Neffie was better than sounding surprised, but Rhea knew that she was.
“A raven, like my husband,” Rhea admitted. “Although the white raven instead. I need to hide in his shadow as much as possible.”
Her domains could be hid in his; blood in healing, poison in plague, loyalty in truth and his obsessive love. Her hand of Fate mirrored his prophecy, so nobody questioned the divinity at the start and the end. Her symbols, however, needed to be carefully hidden. The white raven sub-species, rarely spotted, were known in the stories as the birds that escaped Apollo’s rage. The gold-brown kelp was practically unseen in the northern hemisphere, and so unknown to all. Hidden and unseen, that’s what Rhea had to be.
“His family would welcome you,” Neffie frowned. “You are wed with children. Surely you do not think they can deny you your place in the skies?”
“I deny myself that place,” Rhea replied. “I cannot forget mortality.”
She made a promise, all those years ago, to not let it happen again. If she goes up there, if she remakes her family again, she’s afraid she’ll forget.
She has already forgotten too much.
Neffie sighed. “No, I suppose you cannot.”
Hathor offered no commentary, but she knew the other goddess was bristling, irritated at the shared curse. She, too, cannot forget the bounds of mortality.
***
Neffie died without ever seeing any of her children marry.
The thought made Rhea fill with rage.
It wasn’t fair.
Only two moons after Olivia’s wedding, the royal prince Meryre was born. Seven moons after that, he was buried.
Nefertari was without a son once more, and it made her position far more fragile than any royal wife should be. Ramesses hadn’t cared, of course he hadn’t, he loved his wife with the ferocity of a thousand suns.
Still, brilliant, clever Nefertari insisted. Said she needed the political power. Said she would be killed by the other wives if Ramesses died first.
Instead, it was the other way around.
Nefertari was too old to be having children one after the other, but still she tried, and it killed her.
The royal prince Meryatum had been born at the cost of his mother’s life.
Rhea wanted to tear apart the Egyptian palace, brick by fucking brick.
She didn’t, however, because this was not what was needed from her.
“Support his head more,” She told Olivia, adjusting her grip on the poor newborn prince. “Come on.”
Princess Meritamen watched them as Antipater comforted her friend. The poor girl, as her mother’s eldest, was now a political pawn. Hathor had taken her as vessel out of respect for Nefertari, and to protect her, Ramesses would be taking his daughter as a royal wife. Her entire life had been robbed from her in one fell swoop due to her mother’s untimely death.
If Nefertari had lived, then Meritamen would have had a marriage to a Hittite prince and a household of her own. Instead, she had to take her mother’s place, unlikely to have any family of her own due to becoming her own father’s wife, and with no place to escape to.
The wedding would be tonight, and it wasn’t fair .
Antipater looked up when Rhea walked past, and she could see her own rage mirrored in her daughter’s eyes.
Apollo appeared in the doorway with Ramesses, and with one quick look, he knew to swap places with her.
“Walk with me,” She commanded the pharaoah in his own palace.
Ramesses raised an eyebrow, but did as she said. Horus knew better than to argue with a foreign goddess.
They walked in silence until she found an empty room far enough away that none of the children would hear her yelling.
With a jerk of her head, the servants shut the door behind them and scrammed.
“Queen Rhea,” Ramesses began, ever calm. “I know that the situation is regrettable–”
“Regrettable?” She echoed, stopping him in his tracks. “What is regrettable is what I will do to you if I ever see you mistreat that girl. Meritamen is a child , she is not responsible for her mother’s choices.”
“This is the way of Egypt-”
“This is the way of a coward!” Rhea snapped. “You did not have to listen to Nefertari, you did not have to get her pregnant when you knew that her last one had been difficult. You do not have to cancel my fostering of your daughter so you can fucking marry her! But you have because you are a coward who doesn’t know how to properly control his court or other wives without Nefertari there, so now you take your daughter to do so because, in your mind, she is just another Nefertari. She is not!”
Ramesses lost his cool, stepping into her space. “You think I could control Nefertari? I couldn’t! My allies were hers , my enemies were hers , my kingdom and my soul were all hers !”
“Nefertari’s!” Rhea agreed, “Not Meritamen’s!”
“But they will follow me if I have Nefertari’s daughter as a queen!” Ramesses flung his arm to the side, gesturing to the invisible lands of Egypt. “They follow me because of Nefertari! I can’t… I can’t rule without her .”
There were tears in his eyes, and Rhea had to look away. Had to give him some privacy for it all.
“Build her a temple,” Rhea said, looking out the window where the papyrus reeds grew. “Marry Meritamen. Allow her to do whatever she wishes. Just don’t forget what Nefertari sacrificed for you.”
She left him without a response.
***
Antipater had said she wished to choose who she would marry, and she had.
Rhea’s first grandchild was born to Antipater and Alektos, a small girl with a dark complexion that would immediately tell everyone that neither of her parents were Greek. It did not matter because she was a princess of one of Greece’s most important kingdoms.
“We share a grandchild,” Deme said, fawning over the little girl.
She had wrinkles now, and silver in her hair. Not much, she was only in her thirties now, but life had been hard on her and it showed.
“We do,” Rhea had started making the girl her first ki-to, although it will be a year before it would be ready to be worn. “She’s beautiful.”
She’s the beginning of the end.
The next morning, Rhea officially handed her title of Queen of Delos over to her daughter.
“My duty is done,” She said, kneeling at the altar of her husband’s temple with her little girl. “You have your whole life ahead of you now, Antipater. Don’t waste it.”
Rhea stood and sat on the altar instead, and let her husband steal her away.
She’ll still be there for her children, but it’s time for a new generation to shine the way Rhea shone.
***
The grandchildren just kept coming, Olivia giving her husband two sons and a daughter while Antipater seemed determined to have her own shipcrew built from her own offspring.
Except one.
“There is no shame in marriage,” Rhea said as Scamandrius swung wildly with his blade. The movement wasn’t sloppy, but it was far from the best. He wasn’t the swordfighter his father was, nor his sister Antipater, nor like Rhea. He was good, though, good enough to live if a fight broke out.
“Isn’t there?” He spoke like Andromache, he had the same cadence as his mother. Sometimes, Rhea hated herself for finding ghosts of others in her children. “I have nothing to offer a wife. I am a prince with no kingdom or land. I am raised in the land of my enemies. My own divine mother rarely leaves her island if not to visit Egypt or to watch over Ithaca. Any marriage of mine would be shameful.”
Scamandrius, unlike his older sisters, was a boy raised only by two gods, and it made a difference. Rhea hated herself for the difference it made.
“There are many fathers with only daughters,” She said gently. “Many princesses who would love to marry you and have you as their king.”
It’s a lie, but she knows no other way to comfort her son. Olivia’s marriage wasn’t loving, but respectful. Antipater had love. Both had built these relationships from the ground up. Scamandrius did not have this at all.
“My bloodline will end with me, mother.” Scamandrius picked up his blade once more. “You know this.”
It wasn’t a prophecy, but it was a feeling that edged her reach. The Fates playing with her again.
“Stop.” She sighed.
Scamandrius stopped mid-blow.
“You’re using too much force, if that was a real opponent, then your blade would be nicking bone. You’d ruin the blade or get it stuck in a corpse before the end of the fight.” She took it out of his hand and replaced it with a dagger. Annabeth’s dagger. Fate’s dagger. Morra . “Copy me.”
And she moved, fluidly and swiftly like the soldier she was raised to be.
She did not raise any of her older children to be soldiers but instead as rulers of kingdoms, and that is what they became. She raised her youngest to be a survivor and that is what he became.
Intent was a double-edged sword.
***
When Apollo came to pick up their son, he came with a plan.
“Hush,” She cooed, taking Morra from his hands. “You did so well.”
Odysseus was dead.
Rhea gained no pleasure from it at all. The man had built her a small group of worshippers, Rhea the Loyal, the cult called her. The goddess who watched over Queen Penelope and King Odysseus until they were reunited. She had seen Odysseus return to his family and his struggles with his mind and the fear that the war had carved into his bones. She had seen that and pitied him.
Still, she was the hand of Fate, and so when the old soldier grew sick, Rhea sent Scamandrius away from Delos for the first time.
“It was so easy,” Scamandrius said, looking at his dripping hands.
He always put too much force into his blows.
“I know,” She cleaned his hands, letting the blood fall into the sea. “I’m so sorry.”
Rhea had waited on the shore in a small dingy, guilt eating away at her for her inability to do this for him.
When Apollo arrived to get them, he wasn’t alone.
“Here, lad,” Antitheon threw down the ladder onto the ship for Scamandrius to climb. “Up you get, let’s clean you up.”
“Apollo,” She hissed at her husband, taken aback at the sight of her brother who she hadn’t seen for nearly two decades now, at Antipater’s wedding. “Why is he here?”
Their last conversation hadn’t ended well. Antitheon had been furious that Antipater had chosen to marry and stay on Delos as ruler without consulting him, and Rhea had thrown it back at his face that he hadn’t spent more than six months total in his daughter’s life. She had forgiven him for too much, but he had finally lost her loyalty with that one.
“Scamandrius needs a purpose in life,” Apollo replied. “I understand that you did your best, but he is not a daughter to keep in the household until it is time to marry them off. He’s a man, and he needs another man to teach him to be one.”
“Antitheon is–”
“Your brother.” Apollo cut her off, “He is doing this for our son. Do it for him too.”
Rhea grit her teeth, but when her brother saw her down below, no words were exchanged.
His wrinkled brow smoothed just a little when he made eye contact. He’s nearly 60 now, and she’s still 26.
He nodded at her.
Rhea’s eyes flickered to her son, and then back.
She nodded back.
***
Rhea attended too many funerals in her life.
Avraham died with surrounded by his many children and grandchildren.
Deme went soon after, too tired to fight off an infection from a cooking burn.
Antitheon had been too slow to block a blow from a rival pirate, and Scamandrius delivers the news to Antipater with the killer tied at his feet for her to take revenge as she wished.
Rhea lost two grandchildren young, both Antipater’s kids.
Then again, she saw many weddings.
“Mama!” Olivia greeted, a wide smile on her face. Her baby was in her late thirties already, and she looked beautiful .
“Olivia,” Rhea reached out and brought her little girl to her chest. “Oh, darling, you just look stunning!”
“You look just like your mother when she was your age,” Apollo said, just to be annoying.
Rhea kicked her husband without even looking at where he was. “I cannot believe Isetnofret is old enough to be married already!”
Olivia’s only daughter was marrying the much older prince Merneptah, her uncle. It left a bad taste in her mouth, but Rhea wouldn’t argue about it today. She would just regret it later, and her family didn’t have enough time left for her to return and apologise like they would deserve.
“Queen Rhea,” Ramesses greeted her, waiting at the top of the stairs for them, Queen Meritamen at his side, helping him stay upright. “Apollon, my friends.”
“Ram, Merita,” Rhea replied with a sad smile. They had aged so much. “Horus, Hathor.”
“Hello Rhea,” Hathor said with that feline grin of hers.
***
Scamandrius died first.
Captain of a ship wasn’t an easy life, nor one that led to a long life, but he tried his best.
He visited his sisters diligently, always bringing gifts for his nephews and nieces. He prayed to his mother and father, and always sacrificied a portion of his food. He practised with a sword, but always flinched away from the dagger like it was Morra itself. He was a good son, a good brother, and a good uncle.
He died choking on his own blood in his mother’s lap, ready to meet his first mother.
Rhea wept.
Olivia died next, not from injury or illness, but old age. A heart attack in her sleep. She had seen it coming and left letters for her parents, her sister, and her children.
Her son, Hori, did the funeral prayers. Her daughter, Isetnofret, prepared the body. Her eldest son, Ramesses, had been the one to discover her. Her husband was the one who wrote to Delos with the news.
Rhea wailed.
Antipater died last, a bad fall onto her hip while she was wearing her sword meant a bad break and a worse cut. Not that she let it get her, that girl was stubborn to the end, walking back down the hill herself because she refused to die alone and away from her husband.
Rhea drowned in her grief as she used her powers to remove the blood from the stones in the entryway of the palace.
What did one call a mother without children? She did not know.
***
“Rhea,” Ramesses could barely move his head to look at her.
She smiled sadly as she sat next to him, “Ramesses. You look tired, my old friend.”
“I am tired.” Her oldest friend, the only one who outlived them all, just like her. “You look young, my dear.”
“I am still young,” She brushed the hair away from his forehead. “Remember the day we met, all those years ago?”
“Nefertari wanted to steal you away the second she laid eyes on you,” Ramesses’ lips curled up. “I thought I was in love.”
“I was in love.” Rhea confirmed. “You are my oldest friend, Ram, and I love you. I loved you for your friendship and your compassion.”
He tried to reach out to her, but he couldn’t. In his nineties, Ramesses had lived to a truly unprecedented age. She reached out and held his hand.
“Rhea,” He struggled to speak. “Look after them for me. Look after them in a way that Horus cannot.”
She kissed his hand. “I promise.”
***
Isetnofret the second became the Queen of Egypt that Olivia never lived long enough to be.
She was strong and confident and just… beautiful.
And, when her older husband died not too long after taking control of Egypt, the Queen put her son on the throne.
“Seti will be a strong Pharoah,” Apollo told their granddaughter as they watched his coronation.
“Of course he will,” She spoke with that same confidence that Olivia always had of the future. “There’ll be struggles, but he will be remembered. I know he will.”
And there were struggles.
Rhea stood beside Seti as he prepared for war against his half-brother, Amenmesse.
“I am the eldest,” He told himself. “I will win.”
“Eldest by less than a moon,” Rhea reminded him. She never liked Merneptah, not his age, or the way he had leered at her granddaughter, nor the way he had slept around despite Isetnofret giving him three sons and a daughter. She hated the way that he had married the lady Takhat when she was twelve, the same age as Seti and Amenmesse had been. Takhat had decided upon revenge on the throne of Egypt by taking Amenmesse as her new husband. “Remember that age is not what gives you the right to rule.”
“Then what is?” Seti demanded. “Blood and age is what all kings base their power on. War and sacrifice another. This is my first military compaign, unlike Amenmesse. It is all I have to rally my kingdom.”
“You have Fate,” She replied, sliding Morra into his armour’s belt. “And you have the gods on your side. Amun, have the boy listen to you.”
Seti did listen to Amun, but not for long.
Foolish boy broke his leg in battle and never got it properly set. He took Takhat as his wife, and the young magician lady had spat curses upon him left and right.
Two years after the battle, the bone disease crawled its way into his heart and killed him.
Another grandchild dead.
One of Amenmesse’s illegitimate brats took the throne after that, but Isetnofret was no wilting queen, even after her crowned son and husband died.
Siptah died from poison, sacrificed to a goddess not from Egypt, and Isetnofret marched into the temple and crowned her late son’s wife, Tausret, herself.
Then, she prayed to her grandmother.
Rhea appeared in front of her aged grandchild, and had the knife Morra shoved towards her.
“It will end in Civil War again,” Isetnofret said confidently. “I want no more of it. Grandmother, I wish to rest in Delos and be buried there alongside my mother and her family. My children are grown and have picked their own sides. Our bloodline will continue to rule Egypt, but I will not be there to watch them all die. Take me away, please .”
It was only at that last line that Rhea could see that little granddaughter that she once held again.
The world did terrible things to her children, but Rhea was a mother. She’ll always welcome them back home.
“Of course, sweetheart,” She cooed and hugged her baby.
***
She buried her children on her sacred island, Rhenea, all next to each other.
Then, when it came time, she buried her grandchildren there.
Soon, the sacred island of Rhenea became the burial place of the royal family of Delos.
Rhea planted a new bloom of Hyacinthus on the grave of her great-great-great grandson, humming a soft song she vaguely remembered from her own childhood.
“We can have more,” Apollo tended his own bloom on the grave of Isetnofret, the old Daphne tree still growing strong despite its age. “You can have children again.”
“You have plenty of children,” Rhea scolded. “And I am done. I’m far too old to be raising anymore babies.”
Apollo gave her a flat look, “And I ain’t?”
She gave him a look of pure love, “You are as young as the day I first met you.”
“In the future?” He raised an eyebrow at her, a small smirk on his face as he tried not to laugh.
“I didn’t say that!”
“You did!” Apollo threw a handful of fertilizer at her, and she retaliated by throwing a handful of worms back at him, just to see him shriek.
“Rhea!” He cried, tackling her just to roll around with her in the graveyard and garden of their love.
She just laughed, happy. “Apollo!”
“Ugh,” He pushed his curls out of his eyes. “Must you always tease me, my love.”
“Yes.” She kissed him softly, before pushing herself up. “Now go back to your tree before it wilts.”
Apollo does what she said, helping her up as he did so. “Did I tell you about what my son has done?”
“No,” Rhea reached for the worms once more. She knew exactly what Apollo’s son was up to, but she needed to see the pride on his face. “What is Homer up to these days?”
She couldn’t wait until he realised the impact his son would have on the world.
***
Over the years, Rhea had often lost track of her descendants.
There were so many, and with so many branches that married and left the island, it was hard to keep track of them all.
Still, they reappeared, and most of the time, she was proud of them.
Most of the time.
“What is your grandson doing now?” Apollo said with an incredulous look on his face.
“Ours,” Rhea corrected, in slight disbelief.
After so many years, their bloodline was back in charge of Egypt. They had another Pharoah in the family.
Unluckily, Rhea feared that they would have given Isetnofret a conniption.
Alexander was clearly one of their grandchildren, with those blond curls, that stubborn look straight from Antipater, and that fighting skill, it was unlikely he wasn’t. Still, the boy was quite clearly still a boy as he took the title of King of Egypt.
“Hathor is going to be so upset,” Rhea realised as Alexander spoke about carving his name into the history books. “A Greek on the throne.”
“Our Greek,” Apollo corrected with a grimace. “Our bloodline has to count for something.”
“Antitheon’s bloodline,” She reminded him.
“Ah,” Apollo summoned a goblet of wine, remembering how Neffie and Antitheon had clashed a thousand years ago. “Then do excuse me, Princess, I do believe she is your friend.”
“Coward!” She called after him.
***
“Sister,” Triton greeted her on the ports of Roma.
“Brother!” It took a long time, but Rhea had finally worn him down. She threw herself into his arms. “It has been too long.”
He spun her around, not too fast as he always did hate having human legs. “A hundred years is not too bad.”
“For you ,” She replied. “It’s nearly a twentieth of my lifetime.”
“I always forget how young you are,” He said, ever serious and uptight. She couldn’t get him to get that stick out his ass, but she could at least get him to sit down and have a meal with her without needing to throw a child or grandchild at him to distract him. “Would you believe that our father has only just now realised that Thetis has faded? It is ridiculous how much you are able to get away with, meanwhile mother always knows when I have left the balls and galas to go feed the hippocampi in the stables.”
“Perks of being the younger sibling,” She teased. Not the youngest now, nor the only, but this way was better.
“How is your family? Any new nephews or nieces for me?”
He always asked, even though he knew that Rhea hadn’t wanted any more once she ascended. Only sometimes, very rarely, did she foster one of Apollo’s children for a year or two when they were in their teens. Just for those who struggled under Chiron’s tutelage and needed a different kind of guidance.
“No,” She sighed. “But a new grandson has turned up. A charioteer at Circus Maximus, named Albanus. Antipater’s line, I believe. He’s racing this afternoon.”
Triton’s eyes softened, “Perhaps we should dine together after the games. We could invite him with us.”
Rhea squeezed his arm and looked up at her older brother, “Sounds perfect.”
***
The day that the flame travelled West enough to reach America, Rhea breathed a sigh of relief.
Europe was always ravaged by war after war, and the Blitz had been more than unpleasant, forcing her to take Apollo’s two youngest children and hide on Delos. Her island was old now, her palace rubble, but it was still safe.
“Rhea,” A voice called out to her.
She had never heard that voice before, but she recognised it.
“Sisters,” She turned around with a feline smile she had learned from Neffie. “Moira, I thought I would never meet you.”
The three sisters of fate stared back at her. “You have done much.”
“And not enough,” So many lives she could not save, or change, or end.
The middle sister frowned at her. “You are our hand, the final blow before death, the last hit before it breaks, the final chain before resistance. You have done almost too much.”
Rhea looked up to where Empire State Building, freshly built and standing strong, stood. “You want me to stand aside despite knowing what is coming.”
“You always know what is coming,” The third sister scolded. “This is no different.”
“I made a promise,” Rhea dug her heels in.
“It’s Fate. It was always going to happen,” The first sister pointed a single bony finger at her. “Your promise to make sure it doesn’t happen again .”
Rhea looked away. Morra was still on her hip, after all these years, the blade still looked new.
“It won’t,” She promised again.
***
Apollo showed up in their home in Brooklyn with a young teenaged demigod beside him.
“Princess,” Apollo was paranoid, looking up at the skies as he hutched himself over the boy as much as he could. “I need you to hide him.”
Rhea didn’t hesitate for a second, “Come here, baby, let’s go inside.”
Apollo left the second that his son passed over the boundary line. The home was no great temple, but it functioned as a new Rhenea island with the new Western flame.
“Who are you?” The kid demanded from her as she pulled out the ingredients to make some nectar-infused cookies.
“My name is Rhea,” She grabbed the blue food dye. Her name was one that was forgotten and rediscovered several times over history, and often conflated with her grandmother. Ithaca was always seen as an archeological mystery for having such a large cult for the Titaness. “I’m your father’s wife.”
“He married a mortal?” He gasped, looking at her in her little 60s dress and carefully done updo.
“Oh baby,” She turned around with eyes of the deepest seas. “Of course he didn’t.”
Halcyon Green reminded her of Kassandra, of Olivia, of Isetnofret.
She told Apollo as such when he showed up three days later to collect his son.
“I know,” He had those sad eyes again. The ones that made Rhea wish to go up to Olympus and claw Zeus’ eyes out. “But he broke the rules, Rhea. It’s not just father demanding his punishment.”
Rhea sent Halcyon off with a kiss to the cheek, some fresh cookies, and Morra .
A new hand of Fate will need to wield it soon.
***
It was by accident that Rhea and Apollo went walking across the Brooklyn river and spotted them.
Rhea nearly tripped straight into the river, and Apollo had to grab her to stop her from falling in.
“By Chaos,” Rhea swore as she righted her feet from under her. It was 1999, she should stop wearing heels everywhere, it wasn’t the 50s anymore, she could get away with it even if it was hard to break habits. “They look just like–”
“More grandbabies,” Apollo declared with a proud smile. “She looks just like Isetnofret.”
Sadie had Olivia’s confidence, but it was Carter that had Olivia’s smile.
Gods, she had forgotten. She had forgotten so much.
“My younger self will meet them soon enough,” She told Apollo. A few years was a blink of an eye to her now. “Carter will host Horus and Sadie will host Isis.”
“The Egyptians will be freed?” Apollo perked up, looking like pure sunshine. The years had been so kind to him. “I haven’t spoken to Horus in too long.”
“I miss Hathor,” Rhea said, ignoring the face her husband made. Those two never did get over their rivalry.
“I miss Egypt,” Apollo looked down at her with a smirk. “Hey princess, want to have another honeymoon?”
Rhea laughed, taking off in a burst of white feathers, smiling to herself as he followed on darker wings.
***
Her younger self had no idea what was coming for her.
Rhea hid in Thalia’s pine, high up in the branches to not alert Peleus sleeping below.
Apollo, after removing the sun chariot from the lake, joined her. “I don’t like not knowing what is going to happen,” He told her.
“I don’t like knowing what is going to happen,” She countered, watching as her younger self led Nico up to the Big House.
“Rhea.”
She looked over to her husband’s face, then sighed. “Your twin will be fine, but you’ll need to help my younger self and Zoe get to her.”
“Thank you,” His shoulders relaxed. “Your younger self is cute. I forgot how young you were when we got married.”
She snorted, “I didn’t. We were so young. Remember how you thought it was fashionable to wear nothing on top of your ki-to?”
“Chitons were far more fashionable,” He shot back. “Not that you could ever wear yours normally. Remember that yellow peplos?”
“Don’t you dare!” She pointed a finger at him. It had been her very first peplos, and she had accidentally flashed several grandbabies by sitting down wrong and popping the pin.
He just laughed and grabbed her finger, pulling it close to kiss the back of her hand.
***
Rhea hid behind the thrones.
It was the first time she had been on Olympus in three thousand years, and she was hiding behind the thrones because she had let her dramatic husband talk her into this. He was always so theatrical, but fuck, was it charming. She can’t believe she fell in love with him sometimes.
She watched him heal Annabeth, who had collapsed after Luke and Rhea disappeared with Morra . They had their own paths to go down now, but those paths all lead back home.
These moments were brand new, time she had never seen before.
Suddenly, time didn’t feel like sand slipping through her fingers, even as the hours blurred together.
Rhea was careful to very slowly and very quietly turn the colors of the Empire State blue, but from a very confused nymph trying to grab an Olympian’s attention, she didn’t escape all notice. That’s fine, she didn’t need to be so hidden anymore.
Apollo spoke quietly with the nymph, some well-made excuse leaving his tongue without ever saying a lie. He gave her a weird look, but as she was hiding behind his throne, it just looked like he wanted to go sit down.
It wasn’t long before other demigods came into the throne room, a slow trickle becoming a stream, each of them greeted with a heroes’ welcome.
Faces and names that Rhea had almost forgotten stood in front of her.
Nico di Angelo, Annabeth Chase, Travis and Conner Stoll, Clarisse la Rue, Tyson, and so many more.
Rhea has had so many homes over the years, but still, it felt like a homecoming all over again.
She covered her mouth to stifle a sob, knowing she’d rather have the surprise than ruin it.
“We have to pay respect to our heroes!” Zeus spoke, voice booming with an undercurrent of thunder and lightning. Dramatic, just like she remembered him. “Many fought well to protect our thrones! Our hero of prophecy, Rhea Jackson, most of all.”
Was it stupid of her to say that she had almost forgotten about her last name? Rhea Delosian had been her name for so many centuries that she’d almost forgotten what her real name sounded like.
“My daughter,” Her father stood up, face stoney. He grieved her. He was grieving her. “Fought well. She never doubted, never hesitated. She was a true hero.”
Zeus inclined his head, “She was. If she had survived father’s final blow, I would give her the highest of honors. The greatest gift a hero could receive. Alas, she perished, and I trust she is now safely on her way to Elysium.”
Wow, sound a little less happy about that. By Chaos, Rhea had celebrated Achilles ’ death less.
Apollo coughed. Loudly.
Zeus turned his head to glare at his son, “What?”
“Ah,” Apollo stood, and Rhea could see the exact little smirk on his face. “I wouldn’t say that.”
“Apollo,” Poseidon was frowning, his hand on his trident. “Kronos disintegrated them with his true form. You heard the daughter of Athena’s testimony.”
“No,” Apollo corrected. “I heard her say that Kronos’ power overwhelmed them. Not killed them.”
Annabeth inhaled sharply through her nose, eyes darting around. She was always too clever, that one. By Chaos, Rhea had missed her.
“You know what his power could also do? Send them back in time,” Apollo was fully smirking now. “Which, y’know, if it did happen, Uncle, I would totally take care of her. I mean, why wouldn’t I, she’s a–”
“Apollo,” Artemis spoke up warningly. “This is not the time for your dramatics. A maiden is dead.”
“I agree,” Rhea said, leaning against the back of her husband’s throne. She rested her chin on top of her arms. “This is totally a time for my dramatics.”
“Thanks, princess,” Apollo pouted playfully at her pausing his little play in its tracks.
Rhea winked at him, “No problem, love.”
The entire throne room froze. People did double and triple takes, Ares was rubbing his eyes like she was some sort of post-battle hallucination, Nico was looking her up and down like he couldn’t quite grasp the 20 foot tall woman that his eyes were seeing, and Zeus’ forehead vein was throbbing.
Rhea just straightened up and looked straight at her father. He looked so relieved to see her, his small intake of breath as he reached out to her.
She reached back and threw herself into his arms with a sob. “Hi dad, I missed you.”
The throne room dissolved into absolute chaos, and Rhea wouldn’t have had it any other way.
"The woods are lovely, dark and deep, But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep." ~Robert Frost