𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙘𝙡𝙪𝙗 | 𝙥. 𝙟𝙖𝙘𝙠𝙨𝙤𝙣

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Astrid was all too familiar with the phrase "All's fair in love and war." She wasn't unaware of the fact that people lie and cheat to get what they want no matter if it was a noble cause or not. She was no stranger to trickery, not after six summers worth of capture the flag where everyone strove to win. Still, it doesn't lessen the anguish whenever the blindfold is pulled away from her eyes.

Ever since she was young, Astrid had always been told she was too soft, too sensitive. Even by her siblings' standards, who were all more attuned to their emotions than most. She cried easily, she loved easily, she hurt easily. Like holding a rose to your chest to admire its beauty despite the thorns pricking you. But she wouldn't have it either way. To be soft wasn't something to be ashamed of, her maman would say.

It was all a reminder of her humanity. That despite the divinity in her vessel she still bled red. Never would she wish to bleed gold.

On the walk back to the diner, Astrid tried not to think about the gods despite being on their way to meet one. She kept it to the back of her head whenever she could. Even if she was introduced to the world of the Greek pantheon at a young, impressionable age, that she saw wonders no mortal would ever see in their lifetime as the norm, she did well to remind herself of where the gods stood and how they saw their offspring.

It was nothing personal, she got that. Her maman taught her so even before it was revealed that she had a goddess for a mother as well. Bedtime stories about monsters, gods, demigods, and heroes. It all seemed so fantastical. The reality wasn't quite so. Take note of the fact that she said 'demigods and heroes', one does not always equal the other.

In ancient times, being a demigod wasn't anything momentous. Nearly every other child in the neighbourhood was a child of Zeus or some other promiscuous god. Some had prophecies telling of their greatness and/or suffering (most of the time it was both), others sought to make their own destiny, though that didn't always end well either.

When Astrid was told she was a demigod the summer before her seventh birthday it didn't mean much. Her tiny little brain couldn't comprehend that she had a second mother. Then when it settled she was ecstatic but soon turned to a certain sadness. She knew well enough by then about how the gods barely make contact with their offspring. Who was she to complain, to demand to be a special case?

Even before knowing she had two mothers, Astrid never thought to crave another parental figure in her life. Sure, she wondered where her own papa was when all the other children brought their fathers on family day. But never once did Evelyn let her feel that there was an empty space in their family of two, it was never there, to begin with. They were a family just like any other, who loved each other just as much and never failed to let them know they were loved.

Astrid didn't need all her fingers in one hand to count the times she'd encountered Aphrodite. And that was alright with her. It meant that her life would be inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. That the world would never rest on her shoulders. In the world of demigods whose lives were always in peril, she couldn't ask for anything more.