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Demeter had learned her lesson millennia ago. Her children were to be seen, not visited. Not loved or nurtured.
Kore had been stolen from her. Kidnapped by Demeter’s own brother. When she begged Zeus, the girl’s own father for help, he said he was the one to approve the match.
Not that she was still bitter, no matter what her son-in-law had said. Putting so much attention on her eldest daughter had only led to heartbreak.
For her demigod children, this went doubly so. Their lives were fragile enough. No need to risk angering Zeus. So she would occasionally glance into the lives of her spawn. Never long enough to get attached, of course.
And then she met Phillip McCaffrey.
He came from a good bloodline. Generations of botanists and gardeners. He knew the importance of grains to society, which was most important. It didn’t hurt that he had wheat colored hair and eyes the color of dirt.
Demeter was not one for sentimentality, nor hookups. She was not one of the fickle new gods. And no, she didn’t have something specifically against Apollo.
They spent a year in their affair. When their child was born, a golden cradle was placed on his doorstep. Her heart did not twist at the gentle cries of a newborn for milk. And it was not her fault if Phillip wasn’t supposed to be home for another hour.
Upon Kore returning to the world of sun and grass, Demeter had more pressing matters to deal with. Such as convincing her to stay away from her husband.
Two years later, she abruptly remembered that she had a new daughter. A little later than she usually checked on her half-blood children.
But no matter. A chubby little toddler explored her father’s greenhouses. Earthworms and small rocks in hand. No worries with Margaret.
Three years passed again with barely a thought to young Margaret. A small girl greeted her. Still distracted by the bees and wildlife around Aeithales. Demeter was sure she had been set on the right path.
She couldn’t help but notice a nagging thought at the back of her mind. Margaret had not gotten her father’s blonde hair. Not his nose. Only his brown eyes. Without seeing the way she clung to him, one wouldn’t think they were related at all.
For seven years, Demeter would make an attempt to see her. She had potential after all. But no matter how hard she tried, Margaret was hidden from her. At first she assumed that the poor creature had burned with Aeithales, but Hades assured her that she was not in the underworld. Even with her mistrust for him, she knew she would’ve worn him to the truth by now.
She was resigned to thinking Zeus had meddled to spite her. For seven years the McCaffrey girl was a mystery to her. All until she turned twelve.
In the girl’s twelfth year, Apollo had made a grave error. Starting a war he couldn’t win and disobeying his father. Not that Demeter particularly agreed with Zeus’s punishment, but the young upstart needed some humbling.
Margaret, the clever girl took him as her slave. Very well indeed.
It discomfited Demeter the way she talked of her stepfather. The tension in her shoulder, the closing shut. Who was this man to claim her daughter as his own?
Treachery. Her daughter turned against Olympus. Without Demeter having a clue. The Second Titan War had taught all the Olympians to be cautious of wayward children.
So she was quite justified in her watching over the girl. To make sure if she could be redeemed, she would. Apollo seemed to recognize in Margaret a certain companionship. And so he brought her back. Turned her against the Beast and set her free.
Their journey continued on. They faced trials and Lester faced humiliation. Much by the hand of that daughter of Bellona. Who seemed to make Margaret laugh. For the first time she could hear, Demeter realized.
Eventually, Apollon was released from Margaret’s service. Though that was a pity, Meg did return home to Aeithales.
And calling her by her preferred wouldn’t be overfamiliar. Would it? She was her mother after all.
By the end of it, Meg was a pretty young woman. Her hair would have to grow out, but that was the work of a few years. Brown hair, brown eyes, and a pleasant smile. Very similar to Demeter’s preferred form indeed. Except for the eyes, which missed their golden sheen.
Seasons passed, winter turning to spring and winter again. There were floods and famines. California greatly worsened, and then seemed to improve. There were whispers of an upstart goddess, some sort of protector.
Demeter must check it out at once. To make sure that the hierarchy was kept. There was an order to these sorts of things for a reason. No young immortal would try to take her place.
She appeared within California, searching. Eventually she led herself to the home of her former lover. The current house of her daughter.
Working in long repaired greenhouses was a nymph looking thing. Thick brown hair and cateye glasses. A young woman stood before her.
Demeter stayed silent. She watched as the unknown being walked to a small pond. Staring into it, she revealed her own face.
If goddesses could stumble, Demeter would. Looking back at her. It couldn’t be. Wasn’t.
But there was Margaret McCaffrey staring back at her. Sharing matching reflections. Younger yes. But other than the lines implied on the older one’s face, they seemed identical.
The curve of the nose. The shape of the eyes. The angle of their jaw. The way they held themselves.
Meg did not react. Apparently unsurprised to have two reflections. She simply stared back. Reaching her fingers out, she almost touched the water. An inch away, and yet so far.
A quiet voice filled Demeter’s head.
I’ve never asked for anything. Not your love, not your time, and not your blessing. My dad is dead, and I look nothing like him.
Please, mother, give me one picture to remember him by.
And it hit her then. No longer were even her eyes Phillip’s. They were green, and shone bright gold.