Victory doesn’t come cheap – Victor Grant ft. Nike and Athena
Nike’s victory wasn’t sweet. Not like she wanted it to be at least. They had won yes, however, no matter how relieved she was to crown the demigods and Olympians as victors, it did nothing to lessen the pain of loss. She looked at the boy down by her feet, crushed under a bunch of concrete and steel. Dark brown hair with blond tops, much like her own.
“Now we match,”
Nike still heard his voice as he had proudly shown his hair to her after coming from his latest hair appointment. The boy’s gray eyes stared up at the sky, frozen in time. Not a single trace of fear or pain contorted his face. He might as well just have been lounging there, if you forgot he was in the middle of the road under a collapsed bridge at least. Nike crouched by his side and closed his eyes, lest his mother see him like this. She shivered as she stepped away from the sixteen year old she had once held so closely to her chest. Nothing about this victory was good. Nothing about this victory was like she had intended it to be.
“Would you like to hold him?” Athena asked.
Nike looked up at her. The wisdom goddess still had a faint line of ichor on her forehead. The only sign that not even an hour ago she had been suffering from head splitting headaches. All because of the little boy resting in her arms.
“No, ‘Thena, I can’t. He is yours, he should stay with his mama,” Nike smiled in return.
“I trust you Nike, more than anyone else. If any god is going to make sure my children are safe, I know it will be you,”
The victory goddess saw the tiredness in Athena’s eyes. Her breathing slightly elevated from earlier, her hands still shaking.
“All right then,” She said.
Athena smiled at her and gently handed over the baby she had been holding. The light weight settled in Nike’s arms. It felt strange to hold a baby again. It had been a while since she had children of her own. Unlike the Olympian demigods, Nike found out that her own children didn’t always seem to feel at home in Camp-Halfblood. As much as she loved her children she did not want to put them through the trauma of a crammed living space, about the size of a sleeping bag, shared with a dozen or more other children. She appreciated everyone got a place in the Hermes cabin, but at some point that cabin would be full too. Nike looked at the boy in her arms, slightly thankful he would never have to go through all of that, seeing that since he was Athena’s boy, he had been claimed the moment he was born. Athena was never one to postpone matters that could be handled quickly. Perhaps that would be one tragedy less in his demigod life. The kid seemed comfortable in her arms, resting his little head against her chest. “What will you name him?” Nike asked. Athena didn’t respond so the victory goddess tore her eyes away from the bundle in her arms and looked up at her. It seemed the wisdom goddess had been exhausted, her eyes having already closed, her chest steadily rising and falling as she slept.
“I guess we’ll have to find out later,” Nike whispered, gently touching the baby’s cheek.
“Charles Beckendorf, Selena Beauregard, Lee Fletcher, Victor Grant,”
From a distance Nike and Athena watched as the names of the fallen heroes were spoken and their shrouds burnt.
“Victor would have been magnificent,” Athena said.
She had a faraway look in her eyes as she stared at the funeral pyres from the hill. She wore her armor as usual, but it’s normal radiant glow was dim. Only days ago Nike had seen her radiating with power, fighting Typhon and living up to her status as goddess of war. Yet now, it seemed like all the energy had been drained out of her. The loss of one’s child is never easy, not even for gods, who are so used to seeing death in all of its forms.
“He already was,” Nike replied, her own eyes trained on one specific pyre.
Victor’s pyre. She saw Athena’s other children standing around it, each holding onto each other, afraid of who might go next. If even Victor could die so easily, none of them stood a chance. Victor was to turn seventeen this year. He was the eldest of Athena’s children and possibly the most skilled after years of training at camp. The younger ones all looked up to him. Especially Annabeth, who had been named cabin counselor last summer on Victor’s insistence, since he spent the majority of his time in the mortal world. Besides Luke, he had become her closest friend after Thalia died. He took her in, showed her around the Athena cabin, taught her how to make offerings to her mom and spent hours upon hours training in the arena with her. Nike shook her head. She felt the cool metal of a golden medal materialize in her hand. She stared at it. The medal was engraved with the image of a running man. The back had been engraved with a date that was still many years from now. Nike ran her finger over the metal. She would have been the one to give it to him. His Olympic medal. Part of her wanted to throw it now, as far away as she possibly could, but the other part knew that she would never forgive herself if she actually did. Victor was great at running, selected for the track team, competing in nationals, winning them. He had been on his way to a scholarship. The victory goddess’ heart broke a little more as she heard Athena sniffle beside her. She looked up to see silent tears roll over her cheeks, yet her face remained the same flawless mask it always was. Fate was cruel and Nike’s heart ached for the small kid that had been in her arms all those years ago. The same kid who offered the same portion of food to her, a minor goddess, as he did to his own Olympian mother. The kid who considered her his second mom. Victor Grant.
Victor ran, past the monsters and demigods trying to slash at his arms and legs.
‘Push Vic, come on!’ He told himself.
“Amelia!” He yelled. His eleven year old sister stood near a weak bridge, ready to collapse. They had just made the explosions go off. His ears still rung. The biggest part of the bridge had already crumbled to the ground, but this other piece was soon to follow as it was losing its battle against gravity. “
Amelia, move!” He tried again.
The girl was disoriented and likely momentarily deaf from the explosion. Tears streamed from her eyes as she looked around her, frozen in place.
“Kyle, get Amelia!”
Kyle, hearing his older brother yell, started running towards his twin as well. He was even further than Victor. The chances that he would make it were small. Perhaps if they both called for her though, at least one voice might get through.
“Amelia!” They both yelled.
Victor’s legs and lungs were burning as he sprinted towards his younger sister. He pushed demigods out of his way, shoving and stabbing his way through the monsters. The other Athena kids turned to watch, hearing his voice. Their eyes went wide as they realized what was happening. Under any other circ*mstances Victor would have found it funny to see all of his siblings simultaneously confused, now he just prayed he was fast enough.
“Annabeth, Malcolm, clear everyone out!” Victor yelled.
“Please Nike,” He muttered more to himself than to the goddess.
He knew she had other victories to secure today. Preferably giving priority to the gods who fought Typhon, yet he couldn’t help being a little selfish in this moment. His victory was more important, he was saving his sister from instant death. Victor had to make it to Amelia. He couldn’t fail. Not when he was this close. He was not burning any Athena shrouds when this was all over. Victor jumped over a Jersey barrier and finally reached Amelia. He crashed into her, effectively pushing her away from him, just as the rest of the bridge collapsed.
“Vic!”
“Victor!”
Half a dozen Athena kids called his name before it all ended with the abrupt crushing of bone. Kyle slid to a stop, his arms immediately wrapping around his twin sister, before realizing he had stopped right next to Victor’s head. He seemed intact, for the parts he could see at least. His rational brain told him it would be best for him if he didn’t try to look underneath the rubble.
“Vic?” Kyle asked.
His voice shook. He didn’t know if he was trembling because of his sister’s shaking form in his arms or the mix of adrenaline and fear that seemed to set his veins on fire.
“Vic!” Annabeth cried out.
She rushed forward, trying to move the rubble. Her form heaved with uncontrolled sobs.
“Victor please!” The now eldest child of Athena cried, trying to get her older brother out.
“Mom, come help him!” Annabeth yelled at the sky.
There was raw anger and pain in her voice. Her hands bled , the sharp metal and rough concrete of the bridge cutting into her skin as she tried to save her brother.
“Mom! Athena!”
Xene tried to swallow the lump that had formed in her throat at hearing her older sister cry and curse at the sky. To her right she spotted her youngest sibling, Henry, all but eight years old. Henry stared blankly at Victor, his form shaking, but completely silent. Utter shock was written all over the little boy’s face.
“Hey Henry, let’s take a walk okay?” Xene offered. She took him by the shoulder and lead him away from the scene.
