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Part 6 of Athena Dies AU
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2025-11-06
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2025-11-19
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The Funeral of Athena

Summary:

When Athena had died during God Games, everyone was in shock. But enough time had passed that they couldn’t leave her rotting body in Apollo’s infirmary, so a funeral was planned. The first one for a goddess of her status. All of the gods had varying reactions, yet they were united in one thing: their shock over the death of the goddess of wisdom.

Notes:

I am deeply sorry for the delay in posting! Basically I had this chapter written out like on Monday but when I went to post it (aka copy and paste it), I found that I only had 1.1k words out of the initial 2.7k words. Idk where the remaining 1.6k went, they're lost media now ig. I tried to write the rest yesterday but that was difficult because 1) I had to recall what I initially wanted to say and, despite getting the main points across, I'm sure some details were lost. & 2) I was coming back from a school trip which meant that I had to write in a noisy bus when I was tired af after walking 15km on Tuesday (which is a little over 9.3 miles for anyone who doesn't use km) which had very little chance of happening. So I wrote about 600 words yesterday, wrote the rest today and now I'm posting this. Idk if anyone will read this but if you do, you're awesome.

That's basically what happened. Now I'm tired and I have to study and I just hope y'all like this <3

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter 1: Funeral Preparations

Chapter Text

As it turned out, staging a coup against the King of Olympus and Ruler of the Gods took a tad bit longer than a few days (as Hera had said from the very beginning, a fact Metis was pointedly choosing to ignore) and the planning was put on hold when said king had given them permission to begin the funeral preparations.

Thankfully, Zeus hadn’t seen Metis yet by virtue of her staying inside Aphrodite’s palace, a place where nobody dared to enter without permission, not even their king.

“It’s like a very long sleepover,” joked the goddess of love when they had first suggested that Metis remain in her palace in order to keep her safe. “Like the ones we did when we were younger, do you remember?”

Although Metis wasn’t opposed to staying with one of her closest friends, especially since it would give them an opportunity to catch up and help each other through their grief, she was itching to explore what had become of Olympus since she had last been alive, to see the changes for herself, to potentially reunite with some of her other old friends. The curiosity, a trait which was probably the main reason she was given the wisdom domain (a trait that she was also told was passed on to her daughter), burned inside her heart and almost made her feel close to exploding some days.

Despite her internal complaints, she recognized the necessity of keeping herself hidden and kept her mouth shut about her restlessness, blaming it on the want to avenge her daughter when she was asked— which was a huge part of the reason, naturally— and keeping her goal in mind. Whenever she wished to go outside or lash out at those she knew were innocent in the matter, she reminded herself of her daughter who didn’t have the option of escaping her forever resting place, took a deep breath and refocused her mind.

Aphrodite helped too, even without being asked. When she wasn’t out helping the others with the funeral preparations for Athena, she spent as much time as she could in her palace, noticing her friend’s ever-growing restlessness and trying her best to distract her from her anger. Not because she was afraid of it— she could never be afraid of her friend, especially not when a similar anger was churning inside her soul (not the same, nothing could or would rival a mother’s rage, but similar enough in its love nonetheless) —instead because she was worried it would begin eating Metis alive before they even had a chance to act against Zeus.

Most days, they would have their meals together and Aphrodite would show her new foods and drinks that had been invented, mentally noting her reactions and comments. Afterwards, they would either play games or simply discuss everything that had happened within the last millennia: the inventions, the creation of humans, the wars, the heroes and their quests, the godly drama that oftentimes seemed to never end, and everything in between. Sometimes, they would sit in silence, Metis’ head in Aphrodite’s lap as she braided her hair, the thoughts floating around her brain being too much to handle on her own, yet not enough to talk about.

Aphrodite would also tell her friend stories of her daughter and everything that she had achieved, and Metis couldn’t help but beam with pride the more she learned about her daughter, both about their similarities and differences. Even when she had heard about the chaos Athena had caused— such as falling for Eris’ golden apple and the Trojan War, a topic she remarked that the goddess of love was particularly fixated upon— she couldn’t help but laugh and softly shake her head.

She had always known that she would love her daughter no matter what she did or what kind of trouble she got into, but these stories only seemed to solidify the idea.

“That’s good,” muttered Aphrodite, though not without affection. “Because she caused a lot of murder.”

“So have you, from what you told me,” retorted Metis, another giggle on the tip of her tongue. She received no response other than an eye roll and a soft tug on her hair, much softer than the ways they would fight around during the Titanomachy. (She was told that the gentleness was due to her fragile state as a newly resurrected being, her immortality still being a debatable topic that was constantly brought up during planning sessions, but she saw the sadness in her friend’s eyes and the guilt radiating off her.)

Meanwhile, Hera was running the funeral preparations and, for the first time in a long while, the pantheon worked together. In their defence, whilst gods had technically died before, it was the first time they would have to organize a funeral for a deity, so there was little time for arguing.

In truth, there wasn’t much more physical work to complete, since they had already prepared the objects that the goddess of wisdom would hopefully carry into the Underworld with her— at least by human beliefs, which was the type of funeral they were aiming for because of the Athena’s role in creating them and, more specifically, their minds— and the food was not too difficult to make either. Hestia had the biggest role in that part, which not only helped with the actual taste of the meals, but also helped prevent arguments and defuse the tension when needed (which turned out to be quite often).

However, they needed to decide the guest list, send out the invitations, do all of that without causing too many political disputes, all while trying to keep Athena’s body in a decent state. At first, Demeter had put charms over her corpse to keep it from decaying, all in hopes that Zeus wouldn’t get mad and strike her down further, yet the spells became more intense and therefore more difficult as the time passed. It reached an all-time high once Hermes led Athena to the Underworld and she arrived in Elysium, due to the fact that her soul was now permanently severed from her physical body. It was fortunate that the king no longer demanded perfection, merely for her to look acceptable.

In the worst case scenario, Aphrodite could use makeup to mask the look of death, but they hoped it wouldn’t come to that. They wanted to preserve as much of Athena’s pride, even if she wasn’t alive anymore, and everybody knew that the goddess disliked how "frivolous" makeup was. (Unless she could use it to hide the bruises she got in fights and to pretend that she was better at not getting injuries than she actually was. In that case, she was quite skilled… not that Aphrodite or Ares would mention that, not when their fellow goddess of war was dead and couldn’t defend herself, even if they told the truth. Especially if they told the truth.)

In any case, they were doing fine. Really, they were. A little confused by all the new tasks they would have to perform for a funeral, slightly crazed by the fact that Athena had died in the first place and that her mother had come back to life, somewhat avoidant of Zeus, too afraid to invoke his wrath again, and definitely going crazy from the increasingly insane situations the Fates threw at them, but they were fine. They had to be or else Athena’s funeral wouldn’t be able to take place and, after everything that she had suffered, she deserved to have at least a dignified farewell.

Despite their questionable mental state, the gods who knew Metis was alive still had semi-regular meetings to ensure that everything was going smoothly and that the secret was being kept hidden. These meetings had the added benefit of discussing how the funeral preparations were coming along, although that usually brought more chaos.

Which was exactly what was happening at that moment.

The gods’ voiced overlapped as they talked, both their suggestions and protests being drowned out by the noise they made themselves. Some were quieter than others, of course, but everyone was participating in some way.

That was until Hera decided to stand up and screamed: “Enough!”

No one was phased by this— it was how the pause in the chaos usually happened, after all— and allowed the Queen of Olympus to speak.

“Thank you,” she said in a much calmer and quieter tone, sitting back down since she had already gathered everyone’s attention. “Well, from what I understood of the… conversation, if we may call it that, the preparations for Athena’s funeral have been completed. Naturally, we’ll need a few days to go over everything and make sure we haven’t missed anything, but, for now, we have done well.”

“Great. How much longer until the funeral then?” questioned Metis, not trying to conceal her excitement anymore. Whilst she wasn’t happy that her daughter was dead, a great sense of relief came over her at the realization that her baby girl would finally get a funeral, a luxury she hadn’t been granted herself.

“My guess would be about three or four days. It could be more, it could be less, but, unless something— or someone— inferrers, that’s when it will happen,” answered Hera.

She steeled herself before speaking again, as she knew that the topic was about to bring another onslaught of, in her opinion, unnecessary and annoying comments. However, she didn’t get a chance to speak before Hermes interrupted to ask: “So what do we do about Metis?”

When the others turned to look at him, he added, somewhat sheepishly: “What are you staring at me like that for? I’m asking the important questions here! I doubt she’ll be able to stay for the whole duration of it due to the danger that the King will spot her, but it also seems cruel to not let her see Athena one last time.”

“I hate to agree with him, but he’s right,” said Hera, twisting the ends of her hair as she looked at Metis. “You do wish to say goodbye to Athena, yes?”

“Of course I do! She’s my daughter, why would I not—“

“Because the memory of her dying is fresh and painful,” cut in Aphrodite, her voice sharp, yet soothing. “We are all still shocked by what happened during the Games and I can practically feel the guilt and sadness radiating off you.”

“Okay, fair point,” conceded Metis with a shrug, then gestured towards Hera to continue.

“Right, so having you be as close as we all may want during the funeral is clearly out of the question, but we may be able to do something else.” The queen’s voice got quieter towards the end of the question and Metis had to lean in closer to hear her. She had a decent guess as to what she was going to propose next since Hera staying quiet always signaled some sort of plan, usually one that involved sneaking around. (Not that she would oppose that, of course.) “From what I remember, you were skilled at staying hidden during the Titanomachy.”

“I was. I have no idea if my skill remained though and, if it did, it’s definitely not at the same level.”

“That’s alright. I don’t need perfection, I just need this to work well enough that none of us die,” replied Hera. She paused before voicing her plan, wanting to make sure it was actually as good as she initially thought it was. “I think you will be able to stay at the funeral, as long as we follow a few safety measures. Firstly, you’ll need to stay on the sidelines, where the gods and nymphs with lesser status will be. Zeus will not dare talk to them personally, so the chance that he will see you in such a crowd will be minimal. Secondly, you’ll need to try to act as unsuspiciously as you can, at least for a few hours. Follow what the others do, stay quiet, pretend that this is the Titan War again if you must— just don’t get caught.”

At that point, Metis knew that the safe and sensible thing to do was for her to remain within the safety of Aphrodite’s palace as she had done so far. However, she also knew that if she missed her only daughter’s funeral, she would never forgive herself for it and ran the risk of going insane from grief, which certainly wouldn’t help in their mission of assassinating Zeus.

It seemed like the others had also caught onto this, since no one had any remarks thus far.

“Last of all— and this may be the most important part— I need Aphrodite to cast an illusion charm on you to make you look and sound different. On the off-chance that Zeus does see you, this may prevent him from seeing who you truly are.”

“I’ll do my best,” nodded Aphrodite. “Even with the grief I’m feeling, my magic will hold steady. It has to.”

“And it will.” Hera’s tone held such conviction that Metis almost found herself believing it. Perhaps that was one of the powers she gained alongside the title of queen, she mused, before her attention was dragged back by the goddess’ words again. “We have survived on far flimsier plans before, we have to survive this too. Besides, it’s been a long time since you were his wife.”

It’s been a long time since you were alive.

Hera didn’t say it, but Metis understood it anyway. She had lost several things during her time in Elysium and this, losing Zeus’ affection, is finally working in her favour.

“What about Athena’s corpse? Won’t she be able to see it and have a proper goodbye?” asked Ares, having gotten accustomed to the way humans grieved during his years governing over war. The thought that he would have to do that alone, that he had lost the strategist who always seemed to have his back when it mattered most, threatened to overwhelm him, but he shook it out of his mind. He would have time to think about the logistics of the domains their sister had lost with the rest of his siblings later. “I’d go mad if one of my kids died and I couldn’t see them before the burial.”

“Oh, I fear insanity would have claimed you much sooner, my son. That’s good though, Olympus needs that sort of commitment.” She took a deep breath before resuming and distantly wondered when this nightmare would be over, despite the fact that she knew it was no dream, but reality. “As for Metis, I can take her to see Athena and Aphrodite can come along as back-up in case something goes wrong. That, however, shall be talked about when the three of us are alone. Are there any questions or concerns we haven’t yet addressed?”

 

After a chorus of “no”’s, Hera said: “The meeting is dismissed then.”

Once everyone left the room, the queen turned to Metis and that conspiratorial grin, looking much creepier than before, returned.

A plan was about to be made.

Chapter 2: A Mother’s Farewell

Summary:

Metis sees her daughter one last time. Despite the pain and grief of losing what had mattered to her the most, what had been the main reason for her sacrifice which ended up costing her own life, she continues on with the plans of revenge (with the others’ help, of course).

Notes:

Basically a shit ton of angst and mourning happens (yes I did kiss the brick before throwing it at y’all)

Chapter Text

“They’re gone,” announced Aphrodite after a few minutes, watching the outside of her palace from the windowsill to make sure no one was listening in.

“Wonderful, let’s talk then,” replied Metis as she stared at Hera in an attempt to discern her reactions. It had, after all, been a long time since she had interacted with the goddess who would grow up to become the Queen of Olympus and she had always had more… interesting ways of showing her emotions. “How soon can I go see my daughter?”

“In a couple of minutes, if you wish,” shrugged Hera, tilting her head downwars to hide her face with her veil. It was a simple action, something that most people wouldn’t bat an eye at, but Metis wasn’t most people. She knew better than to not pay attention to details that seemed insignificant at a first glance, only to be revealed to be otherwise in the cruelest of ways. “Aphrodite surely has her spells ready and there must be a cloak around here—“

“What are you planning, Hera?” asked Metis in a sharp tone, one that would mean treason if the two weren’t working together at that point. The queen, to her merit, didn’t lift her head and opted to stare at her through her veil, her eyes betraying very little emotion. “Are you scheming against me— against us all perhaps, hoping I would be foolish enough not to notice? Are you planning to betray me like your husband betrayed you? Do you wish to get rid of me to stay in power yourself, as you father did to you and your siblings, daughter of Kronos—“

“I suggest you leave that name to the humans, since they enjoy calling me by that title so much,” interrupted Hera, voice soft, yet it still had a slightly threatening edge. “I do not intend to do anything untoward to you or the others and I suggest you quit this irrational suspicion before it turns against you as well.”

Aphrodite hugged Metis from behind, preventing her from potentially lunging to start a fight, and leaned her head on her shoulder. The goddess of love waited until she felt everyone in the room was calmer before she spoke.

When she did, she lifted her head to whisper in her friend’s ear, though she was sure Hera could hear what she had spoken as well. “I hate to admit it too, but she’s right, darling. Let us work together in as much peace as we can muster upon this damned mountain, at least until we achieved our goal. If you still want to beat her up after that… just save me a seat for the show.”

“Fine,” huffed Metis as she pushed Aphrodite back, not harshly or with much force since the goddess hadn’t been trying to keep her restrained— she knew that would be a useless fight, considering how much experience her friend had and how weak she currently was— yet another thing she needed to work upon. The list seemed never-ending and Aphrodite had told her that she ought to take it easy, but she had to be better and to work as hard as she could to ensure her daughter got the justice she deserved. Everything else… well, it didn’t matter much when she had lost the girl who was, for all intents and purposes, her whole world. “Fine, but just because I want to avenge Athena. Nothing more, nothing less. I only want to make sure she is remembered.”

“Of course,” nodded Hera, determination clear in her voice as she finally lifted her head. “And we will avenge her, mark my words.”

A few moments passed as her words sunk in before the queen decided to say in a tone that was perhaps too innocent for the situation at hand. “Speaking of Athena, shall we go to see her or…?”

“Yes, we shall,” nodded Metis as she heaved a heavy sigh. “Aphrodite, if you will.”

The goddess of love took her cue to change her friend’s appearance, focusing on her most prominent features. Her face, which was sharper than most due to her being an Oceanid, softened, her grey eyes turned a deep brown, her long curly red hair became a short black spiky cut and, last of all, her wings dissapeared.

“That’s an ability for sure,” muttered Metis in amazament as she looked at herself in the mirror— though she didn’t look anything like herself anymore. The fact brought no panic to her, since she was aware of her friend’s ability since before the Titanomachy even began, it had simply been a long time since she had seen her in action. When she became a goddess due to her marriage with Zeus, Aphrodite had taken care to show her the easier charms every god ought to know, but time and death had weakened her abilities. Hopefully, one day, she would be strong enough to get them back. “You’ve got to teach me these again someday.”

“I will. Don’t rush it, we have time to do everything we want… after we complete our goal,” said Aphrodite as she pulled the black cloak onto her friend, lifting the hood over her head in order to hide her face. “I think you’re ready. Hera?”

“I think so too,” agreed the queen with a slight nod. “Let’s go now, before Zeus can think I’m up to something. He hasn’t trusted me as much since the Trojan war.”

“Who can imagine that?” muttered Aphrodite sarcastically, though there was no malicious undertone to her voice.

The walk to the secluded place where they kept Athena’s grave was relatively short, especially since they hurried in order to not be noticed. However, to Metis, it seemed to take forever.

She wanted to see her daughter— it had been all she wanted ever since she was ressurected— even if all that was left of her was her corpse. At the same time, she knew that the sight of her only child’s dead body would be enough for her to come undone, but, despite her emotions, she had to do this. If not for herself to get some semblance of closure, then for Athena to watch from Elysium.

She hoped that her little warrior was seeing what was happening from Elysium and realized that, even if their time together was short, Metis’ love for her surpassed everything else.

Before she had time to further ponder what her and Athena’s lives could have been like— either on Olympus or in the Underworld, as long as they were together— the three arrived.

Naturally, there were numerous charms that were designed to reject entrance to anyone who didn’t know how to bypass them, but Hera did so with ease, since she, alongside Athena, had been the ones to create them in the first place.

“We’re here,” murmured Aphrodite in a comforting tone, gently squeezing Metis’ hand. “Do you want us to stay or leave you alone?”

“Go, please,” replied Metis, voice almost cracking due to her sadness. “I… I need some time to myself. Don’t go far though.”

“We won’t,” promised Hera sincerely. With one last sympathetic glance, she took Aphrodite’s arm and the duo walked away, leaving Metis alone.

Metis checked to make sure she was truly alone, then immediately walked over to the open casket which held her daughter’s body.

Despite the fact that she had imagined what it would look like, it still felt like someone had stabbed her in the chest and hollowed out her heart, leaving her to stare in shock at the corpse before her.

Eventually, she forced herself to kneel down next to the tomb and hesitantly reached out to touch Athena’s hair, the same shade as her own, except it was much shorter and the ends were somewhat uneven due to the fact that it had to be cut because of the damage the lightning caused. The lightning that was held by Zeus, the god Metis had at one point called her friend, her lover, her husband.

Sobs bubbled up in her chest and it wasn’t long before she began crying, one hand holding her daughter’s own as she desperately tried to ignore how cold she was, the other one gently carding through the red curls that looked so much like her own.

“I am so sorry, Nea,” murmured Metis in a heartbroken tone, still holding onto her daughter like she was the most precious thing in the world— because to her, she was just that. “You deserved so much more than Olympus or Zeus or even I could give you and I regretted the fact that things had to go the way they did, but I will make it right. I promise. I… I know that I cannot bring you back to life, but I will avenge you and everyone will make sure your name will not be forgotten and… and you will be remembered for who you were and everything you did.”

She continued caressing her daughter’s hair and weaved a few small braids in it as she spoke further. “I hope that you met Pallas in Elysium— I saw how much you loved and grieved her and I promise you that she loved you just as much, though I suppose she will tell you that herself— and that you will reunite and do all of the things you didn’t get to do together. I hope that you will be happy and that you will finally get a chance to rest.”

For a while, Metis simply sat there, murmuring soft words to a corpse, yet she still hoped that Athena could hear her, no matter how far she was.

It was only when Aphrodite knocked on the doorframe— quiet enough to not break the solemn atmosphere, yet loud enough to catch Metis’ attention— and pointed to where Hera was sitting, indicating that they needed to get going. As much as they all wished Metis had enough time to say goodbye on her own terms, they understood that their safety and keeping Metis’ resurrection a secret was of priority at the moment.

So, she tucked the few braids she had made behind her daughter’s ear and pressed a light kiss to her forehead, still holding her hand. “I will avenge you, Nea, I swear it on everything that matters. You just rest now, my little warrior, you’ve fought enough.”

With those last words, she turned back and walked out of the room, afraid that she would break down crying again if she dared even spare a glance to the tomb where her daughter lay dead, never to be seen again by the living.

Chapter 3: The Funeral of Athena

Summary:

The time for the funeral has finally come and, despite the heightened emotions of everyone involved, they (surprisingly) manage to pull it off.

Notes:

Woooooooo the funeral is done!!! If anything is unrealistic, I’m sorry, I’ve never gone to a funeral, nor lived in Ancient Greece. Up next: the Ithaca family (+a ✨special✨ guest) find out about Athena’s death and it’s gonna be veryyyyyy fun

Chapter Text

After only a few more days where the preparations were finalized and Hera ensured that the guests would all attend, came the day of Athena’s funeral.

It was a collective decision to host it in an olive garden— untraditional and odd, yes, but they were hosting a funeral for a previously immortal being, so they were allowed some creative liberties, especially since everyone knew how proud Athena had been both of her creation and gaining a new city, as well as her triumph over Poseidon— and opted to skip the decorations in order to preserve the sacred nature of the situation.

Between two tall olive trees whose branches intertwined, bearing a striking resemblance to a crown (or perhaps a war helmet, as was more accurate for the occasion), sat the tomb. It was painted a beautiful silver, a color similar to Athena’s eyes, with blue accents of several shades and patterns. The color scheme was unmistakably one the former goddess of weaving would have enjoyed, had she still been alive to witness the situation. (Then again, if she hadn’t been killed, there would not have been a need for such a funeral in the first place; it was certainly a conundrum that Athena would have spent hours dissecting and analyzing and rambling about it to anyone who would listen.)

The lid of the casket wasn’t yet placed upon it since Zeus and Hera wished to speak their last words to their daughter— by blood in one case, by love in the other— before they, alongside everyone else who attended the funeral, truly said goodbye. The two also wished to show off the numerous objects they would place in Athena’s grave, borrowing the mortal belief that the dead would take the buried objects in the Underworld with them. Usually, they wouldn’t have dared to stoop so low as to borrow traditions from humans, mortals whose lives rarely had a serious impact upon theirs, whose whole existence seemed to pass by in the time it took a god to blow out a candle. However, at the same time, they were aware of the involvement of Athena in creating humans, especially in the formation of their psyche and thought processes, and it was clear she greatly enjoyed spending time amongst them, so they decided that, in the end, they could excuse themselves of a couple borrowed traditions.

Once everyone was gathered and settled, Hera and Zeus stepped forward, which provoked complete silence among the crowd that was full of whispers and rumors just a minute ago. It seemed that, even after everything that had happened, their status still held power.

“I give my thanks to everyone who is present at this momentous occasion,” began Zeus, though he knew that no one would dare stand up against him after what he had done during the Games. However, he also knew that this had always, more or less, been the case, so he chose to continue his speech. “As you are all aware of, my dearest daughter, Athena, has… died as a consequence to the Games. Whilst I certainly didn’t expect my lightning bolts to have such a drastic effect, nor do I wish it happened, I intend for this to serve as a valuable lesson for all of Olympus. May we all remember her as the wonderful goddess of wisdom she was and, in honor to her domain, let us become wiser because of the unfortunate circumstances.”

Quiet applause filled the room, most of the guests still shocked at the fact that a goddess— never mind one with such important titles and status as Athena— had died in the first place, as well as itching to get out. Not because they didn’t respect or care for the former deity— they actually did, quite a lot, which was why her death and Zeus’ willingness to strike her down came as a shock to everyone on Olympus— but because the little trust they had in their king had shattered after what went down in the arena. The normal order of things was held together by spite and pure stubborness, yet anyone with enough awareness to see Hera’s face was more tear-stained than Zeus’ could realize it would not last long.

Once the applause dwindled off, Hera stepped forward to give her own speech.

“Athena is dead, we are all aware of that much,” said the queen in a sharp tone that she was thankful managed to hide the tears threatening to run down her face. “However, that doesn’t mean her memory has to be. Whether we only knew her by word of mouth and by her roles that I assure you were an essential part of keeping this kingdom running, or more intimately, as a family member and friend, we all ought to remember her. We ought not to forget not only her sacrifice, one braver and more noble than I have seen in a long time, but also everything she did before it. We ought not to forget the strategies and council she has gifted us with, the tapestries with which we decorate our halls, the heroes we watch from our place above and the humans which we, for better or for worse, grew to love. As my husband said, let us remember her and her sacrifice and keep her name alive. For when it is lost to time, that will be the moment her essence has truly disappeared.”

After she took a deep breath both to steady herself and to allow the crowd to take her words in and process them, she stepped back and gestured back to her husband.

“Thank you for your speech. Now we shall proceed with the ceremony,” began Zeus as he revealed the objects they would put in Athena’s tomb. “Whilst we realize these… traditions are quite similar to those of humans and we do not dare to compare our divinity to their own mortality, for we are still immortals and more powerful by birthright, my daughter had played an important part in creating them, so we choose to honor her by partaking in some of their practices.”

The king gingerly lifted the golden war helmet his son, Hephaestus, had crafted and watched as the crowd delighted in the creation. Despite the fact that he didn’t have a close relationship with Hephaestus, he did enjoy his crafts which always turned out to be absolutely breath-taking, as well as the attention it brought to him.

Hera lifted Athena’s head slowly, careful to not injure her further, and watched the helmet slip onto her head. She couldn’t help but think of the battles she would lead and no doubt win, if only she had had the chance to live long enough to see that possibility.

They both showed the shield to the audience— only for a second though, in order to not let them experience the debilitating fear the carved images would bring— and placed it upon her abdomen. Despite having been changed out of the clothes she had died in and was currently wearing a soft light blue chiton, the lightning scars still seemed to glow from under her skin. It was as if they wanted to taunt Zeus further, to remind him of the unchangeable mistake he had made and the fact that his own daughter had suffered for it. That she was tainted by his anger, even in death.

Next came the sword and spear, which were placed on either side of her, almost giving the impression that she was holding them, preparing for a fight.

Other trinkets such as olive tree branches, small owl sculptures, a spool of silver string and a few flowers that she had liked, particularly snowdrops, had already been placed around her body long before the actual funeral day. Now, after the finishing touches, Hera saw that Athena’s corpse looked ready to be buried, though it wasn’t easy to admit that, even if it was only to herself. Fortunately (or unfortunately, if you asked her), the crowd’s eyes were on her, nearly to the point of boring holes in her skull. She couldn’t afford to break down in front of them, lest they begin judging and mocking her (which they were doing enough of already) or— worse— her husband took it as a slight against his own pride and status. So, with that information in mind, she stood up straighter and looked at the crowd as she showed them the shroud.

Whilst it couldn’t even compare to the works of art Athena had made when she was alive, it was a close contestant due to the time that was poured into it in order to make sure it was up to standards.

The shroud showed images of battles, of war and bloodshed, but, more importantly, of heroes successfully completing their quests, which the goddess had helped them with, more often than not. Above it, there were silver and blue threads interlinked, akin to her Quick Thought power, with depictions of olive trees and owls in flight between the swirls of color.

As expected, the crowd showed their awe and Hera couldn’t help but scowl slightly at her husband, who showed a small smile at their praise.

“If you love these tapestries so much, why didn’t you keep her alive to make you more?” she asked herself, though she would never dare voice those thoughts aloud. Unlike Athena, she enjoyed staying alive, thank you very much. Her mind was still her own, however, so she could say whatever she wanted in there. “You know she would have, she loved you too much not to listen to your orders. And you loved her too, I know you did. So why? Why hurt her? Why strike her down until she couldn’t get back up? Why kill the daughter you claimed to favor?”

Deep inside herself, Hera thought she had the answer to her own questions, but she couldn’t allow herself to get lost in her own thoughts. Not when the whole crowd was looking at her expectantly, waiting for her and Zeus to cover Athena with the shroud.

It was a quick affair— quicker than Hera had expected, if she was to be honest with herself. No matter what their previous disagreements and fights were about, the queen couldn’t deny that she and Zeus worked efficiently as a team. When it was truly needed, it seemed they were actually capable of doing a good job without arguing.

Now, covered in the shroud and surrounded by several objects which all had held some sort of importance to her, Hera knew the moment where the goddess she considered a daughter would have to be buried for good.

“Shall we bury her then?” asked the queen in a quiet voice which she hoped didn’t betray the tears threatening to spill from her eyes.

Thankfully, Zeus didn’t comment upon it and simply chose to answer in the same quiet tone: “Yes, we shall. We have dragged this on for far too long.”

Hera nodded and turned to the crowd again.

“It is time for us to truly say goodbye to the goddess of wisdom, warfare, strategy, weaving and more and allow her to pass into another world,” said Hera and, with that, the grave was gently lowered into the ground. It was an easy feat due to their godly strength, yet it still felt like it was breaking her heart apart— if it could be broken any more than it already had been during the tumultuous weeks leading up to the funeral.

“You have done well, my daughter,” murmured Zeus, though he didn’t try to hide his words from the audience either. “You have fought valiantly and you met a fate worthy of your title. Now may you rest and know you have done more than enough for all of us. Farewell, Athena.”

Soon after those last words were spoken, Hera signaled that they were allowed to leave, which is what most of the crowd did. Whispers about their kings’ true intentions in smiting his daughter and guesses as to why it had taken so long to plan the funeral of one of the most important goddesses erupted, but they all knew to speak in low murmurs, lest their king hear them and choose to bring them to the same fate he had brought his own daughter.

A cloaked figure easily weaved their way through the crowd and, unbeknownst to most of the people there, they were taking note of everything they heard.

Still, Metis didn’t allow herself to speak until she was safely back in the confines of Aphrodite’s palace.

At that point, she was satisfied with the knowledge she had gotten. But she knew it wouldn’t last long before her plan was put into action.

Notes:

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