The Gift of the Lethe

A History in Thread

Pallas wakes to sunlight streaming across the bed, and her mind still. Not a single nightmare had invaded her mind while she slept, making it the best night she's had since waking from the stasis crystal. When she rolls away from the light, towards Athena's side of the bed, she finds the bed empty.

For a moment she wonders where Athena could be, but then she remembers something Athena murmured to her while Pallas was drifting to sleep. She was going to keep weaving. Has she been doing so all night? Pallas rolls from the bed, sliding her feet onto the floor. She pads to the weaving room, her bare feet silent on the floor.

The tapestry Athena had been working on is complete, and the story it somehow tells in a single image makes her gasp. In awe or pain, she doesn't know, but it moves her nevertheless. A ring circles around the edges of the fabric, showing her moment after moment of Athena's journey, presumably after her death.

Holding Pallas' body, a statue in a hall with Pallas' face, the weaving that Athena began, and it seems a history of all that has passes in the time between Pallas' lives. Each moment circles around an image in the center of Pallas' face split down the middle. One the left side is her face as it was, her features strong and proud.

On the right is her new face, softer but still carrying a strength that can only be seen if you know to look. The faces are almost entirely different from each other, their only connection in the eyes. Identical to each other, in both the emotions caught in them and the very hue of them, the color of seafoam.

The face takes up the center of the tapestry, presumably meant to be the focal point, but Pallas can't help but be drawn to the history encircling it. Things she didn't know of Athena's life that entrance her in their beauty and hidden pain. At first glance, they tell the story of a proud goddess, someone wise and in a place of majesty.

But Pallas sees the shell of herself that Athena became, the image of her others saw was the result of the wall that formed to protect the remnants of her heart. Athena always was all those things, but she was soft too, joyful and warm. But it seems that joy faded, or was at least hidden away, while Pallas was absent.

After several minutes of staring at the tapestry, she realises that she's been so preoccupied that she failed to check if Athena was even in the room. She flushes, feeling her cheeks burn so much that they must be apple-red. If Athena is in the room, this will be extremely embarrassing. She lets loose a sigh of relief when the room turns out to be empty, but it is quickly followed by a frown. If Athena isn't here, where is she? She exits the weaving room and walks through several others, trying to find the room in which Athena had been conversing with Aphrodite the other day. By the time she thinks she's starting to get close, she can hear the faint sound of Athena's voice.

"-doing here?"

"Artemis sent me, Athena."

"And why would you help us, Stepmother?"

Pallas sucks in a breath. Queen Hera is here? She lingers in the hall, torn between her curiosity and wishing to give the two goddesses privacy. Eventually her curiosity wins out, along with the silent reminder from her conscience that eavesdropping is far less respectful. She steps into the room and dips her head towards Hera in a gesture of respect as she makes her way to Athena's side. Hera watches her as she goes, her brown gaze managing to be both stern and warm at the same time.

"So this is she."

Pallas blinks. "What?"

Hera takes a step towards her. "You're the demigod who's brought all this fuss to Olympus, and you're also the nymph who holds the heart of my husband's favoured child. Is that correct?"

Pallas nods. "That is me, yes. My name is Pallas, Queen Hera."

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What do you think of Athena's tapestry? Were you expecting Hera to show up? What do you think she wants? Tell me your thoughts!

Happy reading and I'll see you next chapter!

~ Goddess of Fate, signing out