Brothers and sisters, friends and family, lovers, and rivals. It didn't matter what they'd been, they all ended up in the same fire after losing their lives. His fingers curled; his knuckles almost white at hot tight his grip was getting at the thought of all those lost in a war that they didn't even need to be fighting.
He felt a seething hatred for the Olympians rise up from what had always been a small pool of bitterness he held towards the gods since he learned what he was.
...
No one needed to say it, but it was implied; he was expendable. As a son of Athena, he held somewhat of a closer tie to his divine parent. Unlike most demigods, almost all of Athena's brood could claim some sort of artifact or tool gifted to them early on. A sign that their mother acknowledged their existence and provided the minimum she could even at her most apathetic.
It was common for it to be something as small and simple as a dagger or small sword; a tool to easily master. Other times it was a little more esoteric; unique books and manuscripts that held valuable information. And rarest, magical items such as Annabeth's infamous invisibility hat. Whatever it may have been, at least it was a sign that she expected them to make something of themselves.
And if they made it to the camp, they rarely spent longer than a week before being claimed and brought into their cabin.
Allen counted his lucky stars that his siblings were actually pretty close nit and welcoming, unlike some of the stories he'd heard about the other demigods meeting their siblings. But that was a tangent. What mattered was that even if their mother wasn't present, there was something to connect to from her and each other. It wasn't perfect, but it was enough to soothe even some of his more volatile siblings. It created a bedrock of loyalty that was steadier than what many other demigods could boast.
But then they got pulled into all the messes that eternally followed in the wake of the Olympians.
The pompous, arrogant bastards that caused half the messes they got into and then dragged their children into it whether they wanted it or not. The demigods didn't need to be here, that was a fact. They could run, return home, and never look back and the new primordials would let them be.
Annabeth had gone and proved it, risking herself both in the trip and the return with how paranoid the Olympians were getting. But the Olympians wouldn't let them go. Even if by some miracle they were allowed to leave at this very moment, Allen could guarantee they'd either had to live the rest of their lives in hiding or by ready to be hunted down one by one. No oath would be able to hold them back from retaliation for long; they'd find a loophole, somewhere, sometime.
And it was knowing that that made his blood boil.
He took a shaky breath, almost desperate to calm himself down. It wouldn't do to lash out now of all times when everyone had frayed nerves because of 'what if' scenarios. He closed his eyes and counted down in reverse from 10 to 1 in Ancient Greek. It was tedious but that extra bit of focus he used was helpful, distracting him from his previous thoughts. He did it twice, almost a third time, until he finally settled and opened his eyes again. Then he felt his gaze drawn to the same spot it had been every time he was even remotely idle.
The edge of the desk, the one untouched corner aside from the dull, cracked ring.
Ever since Apollo had dropped it on the table before the meeting, no one had touched it and Allen had been unable to look away from it. When the meeting had concluded and everyone had shuffled out until he was the last, he'd just stayed still, looking at it. He didn't really know how long he'd sat there, but he finally came around to get up. He'd almost walked out but one glance over his shoulder had him turning, grabbing it with trembling fingers and took it.
He couldn't exactly remember much more of that night.
He'd dragged his feet back to the mass tent of his division and told what was left of his siblings and those close to Annabeth about her fate. The silence that had lasted all of ten seconds before the crying started. Some just dropped where they were, numb and unwilling to deal with anything else after what they'd seen and had to do for hours before. Others clung to anything or anyone they could, sharing in the pain as they mourned their sister, and to those not related, a near mother figure that had done more to support them than their own divine parents.
At some other time he might have been touched at the support shown, but now he could only be numb.
His hands reached out until one finger dragged along the dim, cold metal, a tremble running along the entire arm. His gaze remained on it, tracing the crack running the length. However, a sharp knock at the entrance of the tent made him snap to attention, his hands returning to his sides.
He looked just as the flap to the large camp tent was pushed aside and in stepped one of his best captains.
A full head of long, lush reddish-brown hair that still looked vibrant with the wet sheen of fresh washing and pulled into a ponytail. Only one long strand was left free to frame a tan face carrying the sharpness of Roman descent of her father but then softened by the natural, doe-like features of her nymph mother. Bright eyes that looked almost red rather than brown looked at him with a familiar worry as she approached.
"Acacia," he greeted, his voice dry after hours of disuse.
"Allen," she returned, her normally musical voice marred with concern as she stopped right beside him.
A quick glance at his desk and a moment to linger on the ring was all it took for her brows to scrunch together. She then looked past him to another desk, this one topped with the remains of his half-eaten supper. A sigh left her lips as she turned her full attention on him.
"You promised you'd eat and rest," she said, hands moving to her hips as she gave him a stern look.
"I did eat and I'm only finishing some reports. That's easy enough," he replied but he knew that wouldn't be enough for her.
She didn't point out that the one thing he'd somewhat eaten had been his only meal in well over a day or that he hadn't truly slept in even longer. No, she already knew he'd just dig his heels in and go in circles until she left to carry on with her own responsibilities, or most recently, be somewhat of a mother hen to the few younglings left in their division. He was of two minds with that.
On one side, he was thankful as can be. As he was now, he knew he wasn't the most tactful or sympathetic and while not normally one of the temperamental ones, even he was at the hair-trigger these days. Acacia easily made up for it and then some as the warmer, attentive figure that naturally drew others to her. Even for a legacy of Venus, Acacia's empathetic abilities were nothing to scoff at and it showed with how easily she inserted herself into the group, bringing them closer into a cohesive unit.
On the other side, he felt guilty about it. He was the commander of their division, especially now with the loss of Annabeth and Athena, but for the last few days, he'd barely interacted beyond giving orders and checking things. It was left to Acacia and his three other captains; Nicholas, Ariel, and Benjamin, to actually supervise what was left of the division. Hell, he didn't even linger around after he did whatever task had been in mind, just skulk off to his tent and stay here, brooding.
'Just like I am now,' he mentally chided himself before movement from Acacia got his attention.