Chapter Text
The small child stood, trembling, in the center of the room. Her dark hair was done in braids tight against her head, her brown eyes shiny with unshed tears as she looked around the room. Adults always look scary when you’re small, but these weren’t just any normal adults. And she wasn’t in just any old room.
The child, no older than nine years old, was surrounded by Olympians. Twelve thrones in front of her and on either side. She hugged herself, feeling so cold in their celestial presence, as they bickered and argued. Their voices were so loud, and they hurt her ears. Her bottom lip trembled, but she only bit down on it rather hard, stifling her whimpers. She would not cry in front of them.
The bickering and arguing around her grew louder, but she saw in dismay that one god, the one her eyes had flown to when she first entered the room, was not joining in on the arguments. Instead, he was studying her, his sea-green eyes analytical, but soft, even just barely. Right as they made eye contact, the god next to him shook his head, his gray eyes reminding the young girl of the sky right before a bad storm.
“Enough!” He thundered, and electricity seemed to crackle in the air, the slightest hint of something burning touching the young girls nose before the other gods were silent. The girl took the barest hint of a relieved breath at the moment of silence, before the gods turned their eyes to her.
“Brother,” the god with the sea-green eyes said, “You are not truly considering striking down a child.”
“Your child.” Zeus snarled at his brother. “You have broken two oaths brother, one so ancient that most of her kind do not even know of it!” He spat the word ‘kind’ like it left a bad taste in his mouth.
His brother, Poseidon, merely shook his head. “I am aware of my mistake. But I do not believe that killing this child would prove to fix any wrongdoing of mine.”
The words mistake and wrongdoing cut into the girl’s chest, like she’d been stabbed. But, shockingly, she didn’t flinch. She didn’t whimper. She didn’t cry.
“Father,” A goddess spoke, “She is such a young maiden. What would we gain by killing her? We do not know where her loyalties lie yet, I doubt even she knows where they lie.” The goddess herself didn’t look much older; she only appeared somewhere around fourteen years old. But her eyes, silver, were glowing with the wisdom of an old woman.
“It would be foolish to wait for her to decide, Artemis.” Another goddess snapped, who was sitting closer to the Lord of the Skies. Her own eyes, a different kind of neutral gray, glared at the young child. “We cannot wait until the threat is at our door to neutralize it.”
“This is a kid, Athena.” The god sitting next to Artemis shot back. Unlike his sister, his hair was so bright and golden that the child could only watch him from the corner of her eye. “She’s not some hardened warrior, she can’t even remember what happened to her mother.”
“I vote she lives.” Another god chimed in. This one had smoldering, empty eyes, sockets that seemed to glow like flame. His face, scarred and deeply damaged, looked amused. “She’ll be a hell of a fighter when the time comes; she could lead whole armies to victory.”
“Or she’ll completely destroy us all and threaten humanity.” Hephaestus snapped. As he finished speaking, the bickering began again, louder than last time. Yet, one goddess’s eyes were drawn to the child standing in front of all of them. The booming voices of the Olympians was normally unbearable for mortal men, let alone a child, yet the girl did not move aside from the occasional tremble.
“We shall put it to a vote.” Hera said loudly, finally, tearing her eyes from the child. “All in favor of execution?”
Three hands went up: Zeus, Athena, and Hephaestus.
“And all in favor of letting her live?”
The rest of the Olympians hands went up, even the ones who had been sitting bored and not participating, such as Dionysus. But even without his vote, it was clear; the majority were voting to allow her to live.
“It is decided.” Zeus declared, glaring at the young child before him. “Adrasteia Matthews, your life has been spared. Remember this kindness, and remember that we are always watching.”