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Annabeth threw herself down onto the sofa with a sigh, luxuriating in her first moment of peace since the semester had started. She’d known it would be a challenge — first semester at one university had mortal parents urging their children to take it slow, to ease into it and adjust — but she hadn’t realized just how exhausting school could be. After all, she’d saved the world. Mortal kids took on school work every day, why couldn’t she?
But it wasn’t that it was difficult, but how much time everything took. From lectures and discussion groups to projects and group projects and the dreaded busy work, it was never ending. Just when she thought she’d made headway on her to-do list, another ten things tumbled her way.
And now she had nothing to do.
They’d be going to New York next week, but she had five days to kill and she had no idea how to do that. She had planned on catching up on some sleep, but she’d never been one for naps and it was still early afternoon. Percy had back to back exams today, so she couldn’t go bother him either.
A walk would help. Sitting on the couch wasn’t going to do anything for all of this nervous energy.
She walked out onto the streets of New Rome, figuring she’d get a coffee and maybe window shop a bit for the holidays.
Once she started walking, she couldn’t stop. She didn’t get coffee, ignored the waves and greetings aimed her way, and headed toward the river where she knew Percy had made his grand entrance.
She could still see the buildings and temples and the Camp. The water was calming, but she’d never found in it what Percy did. This was all still too close. Annabeth shoved her hands into her pockets and kept walking.
There was a park near New Rome. It would offer her a moment of peace and a chance to look ahead and see opportunity instead of an end.
The park wasn’t busy, but she’d spotted a couple of people on her walk. She hadn’t survived this long without a sense of caution, so she kept careful watch on everyone she came across. She knew that as Demigods got older, their scents faded and monsters didn’t seek them out as much, but there was always a chance.
Thankfully, there weren’t any monsters that she could see. Monsters weren’t the only risk, of course, but Annabeth felt it was safe enough to sit down on the bench. The breeze was chill, but not uncomfortable. She still felt antsy, but walking had helped. The fresh air was nice. She took a deep breath in and held it, trying to will herself into something less restless.
A moment passed. She let out her breath.
Nothing had changed. Annabeth hadn’t felt some great release, nor had the world suddenly shifted on its axis. She still felt tense, and like she should be running away from or toward something but couldn’t figure out which one was right.
The sky was blue with a few clouds dotting the sky, and in it there were no answers to be found.
She watched the clouds move, and as time passed, a little bit of the pressure in her chest lessened. She had next semester to look forward to, and the transition from the large events in her life to the moments of peace after had always left her feeling this way. She’d just never expected it from school of all things. In a few days, they’d be visiting Camp and spending the holidays with Sally, Paul, and Estelle. The days would be full of noise and laughter and love, and she wouldn’t have so much time to herself to worry about why the lack of doom floating overhead had her feeling so unmoored.
A woman was walking along the path toward her. The woman almost radiated mortality, from the small smile on her lips to the way she seemed lost in her own world.
Annabeth continued to watch the clouds, figuring that the woman would walk past her without pause.
She was wrong.
The woman sat down on the either side of Annabeth’s bench with that same smile curling her lips.
“Hello there,” the woman said. “It’s a lovely day, isn’t it.”
Annabeth nodded, and tried her best to make it look like she hadn’t tensed up.
“How are you?” the woman asked, still smiling. “I always like to go out on walks in the afternoon, they help the soul.”
She nodded again. The woman wasn’t unpleasant, but Annabeth wasn’t really in the mood for small talk.
The woman smiled wider and laughed, clasping her hands in her lap. “Not one for talk, then?” she asked. “That’s okay. I didn’t used to be.”
“What changed?” Annabeth asked, surprising herself with the question.
The woman shrugged. “I got older,” she said. “I learned to appreciate the small things. The world can seem dark and scary sometimes, but we’ll always have the little moments to keep us going. You never know how much of a difference a kind word from a stranger can make.”
Annabeth hummed. She knew the value of small sources of happiness, her frustration and confusion came more from how simple things seemed so large when she’d walked through Tartarus. She was supposed to be stronger than this.
“You’ve been through things, haven’t you?” the woman asked. Her eyes spoke of experiences of her own, and while Annabeth knew that while what she’d gone through was unique, there was nothing but understanding on the woman’s face.
Slowly, Annabeth nodded.
“It gets easier with time.” The woman looked back up to the sky. “But that’s rather heavy for such a lovely day, isn’t it?”
“Maybe,” Annabeth whispered.
“But that’s okay, because this day is just one of many,” the woman said. “There’s so much to look forward to, so many more lovely days coming our way. Tonight will be a lovely night, and so will the next.”
“Don’t people usually talk about how the sun always comes next?” Annabeth asked, still not sure why she was encouraging conversation. Maybe it was because it was a distraction.
“And it will!” the woman replied, smiling wider. “And so will the moon.”
“Not always,” Annabeth pointed out. “The moon has phases. Sometimes it’s there, and sometimes it’s not.”
“The clouds block the sun, that doesn’t mean it’s not there,” the woman argued. “But yes, the moon isn’t always there. Sometimes it’s dark. My momma used to have a saying about that, you know.”
Annabeth hummed. “What was it?”
“She used to say that the moon always takes the best from us,” the woman said. “And that when she goes dark, you know she’s welcoming a new child.”
Annabeth laughed. “Is that supposed to be encouraging?”
“I don’t know,” the woman said with a shrug. “But I don’t hate the idea of it. I like the idea of the moon welcoming me home.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and thought about it. It really wasn’t a bad idea. She’d considered turning to Artemis once. A part of her will always wonder about that what-if, even as much as she never regrets it.
“I also like thinking of the people I’ve lost looking down at me, watching with the man on the moon,” the woman added. “They want to be celebrated, not mourned. I think they’d like the thought too.”
“I’m sure they would,” Annabeth said, because it felt like the right thing to do. For whatever reason, her mind went to Zoe. Artemis had put Zoe in the stars, so maybe the woman wasn’t that far off.
“I like to think of my other choices as people too,” the woman said. “Who I might have become if I hadn’t broken up with my high school sweetheart, another version of me that didn’t drop out of cosmetology school, the version of me that had daughters instead of sons. It’s funny how life makes us what we are. I wonder who they are.”
Despite herself, Annabeth found herself blinking away tears. She didn’t often think about who she’d be if one other thing had changed, but today seemed like the day for it.
Silently, the woman stood up and walked closer. Annabeth looked up and decided she’d try to remember this moment. The woman might be a little odd, but she seemed kind.
“No matter what you choose to do,” the woman said. “It’ll be the right thing for you, and you will be amazing at it. I have a good sense for people, you know.”
Annabeth nodded, not sure she could even find the voice to say a thank you right now.
“Now.” The woman straightened her jacket. “I hope you have an amazing day. Ta-ta!”
Annabeth watched the woman walk away, tears burning down her cheeks. She was tired, and the anxious feeling hadn’t quite gone away yet, but somehow she thought the woman had helped. Maybe she’d just needed a few words of encouragement from someone who didn’t see her as anything else but a young girl who was maybe a bit lost.
She wasn’t left to her own devices for long.
But it wasn’t the woman coming back to impart one last bit of advice, nor was it another stranger taking a rest on the bench.
It was her mom, who was probably the last person she wanted to see her like this.
“Mom?” she asked, trying to discreetly wipe her face. “What are you doing here?”
Athena inclined her head, but didn’t say a word. Annabeth could feel the weight of the Goddess’ stare on her face, and if her gaze was anything like her mother’s, she understood why people flinched under it. Annabeth wasn’t going to give Athena the privilege of a broken silence. If her mom wanted to say something, she was going to come out with it herself.
Maybe Annabeth was bitter, but saying her feelings toward her mother were complex was an understatement if she’d ever heard one.
She tried to sit a bit taller. It was funny how it was easier to do that in front of a Goddess than it had been in front of a mortal woman. This was a playground she knew well, and she’d seen far too much of it to cower in its face.
The clouds continued to move in the sky above them. She hoped Apollo was having fun with the way the sun’s rays wove in and out of the clouds.
“Despite what you may think,” Athena eventually said. “You are wise and you are strong. Do not forget it.”
Annabeth tensed and curled her hands into fists, trying her best to not let the sudden rush of emotion show on her face. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because it is good for you to hear,” Athena answered. “And for me to say.”
Annabeth was half-convinced she’d imagined that last part, but the Goddess didn’t look away. Her mother’s face didn’t show any emotion, as still and as comforting as a statue. The Gods were never going to understand them, to really be able to relate to them. But Annabeth had never expected them to.
But a part of her had always wanted a mother, even if she was wise enough to know that wasn’t in the cards.
She looked back up toward the sky. “I’m not your only child, you know.”
Athena inclined her head. “You are not,” she said. “But Gods are slow to change. We do not adapt the same way you do.”
That much was true. The Gods had changed with the times, but their core was the same. And it always would be. So, it wasn’t surprising when Annabeth looked back over to find Athena gone.
No more tears came.
Oddly enough, she felt more settled. No matter what life decided to throw her way, she was going to keep living it.