Chapter Text
Her mum named her Helen, back when she was born. Helen Andromeda Jackson for the woman who ended the Bronze Age and one of the few mythological women who got a happy ending. Good, strong names. A threat to those who would harm her and a promise of a future for herself.
No one calls her Helen. Or Andromeda. She was three when a kindly neighbour asked her name and she declared she was Rhea. She was five when her mother gave up trying to refer to her by any name other than Rhea.
She was seven when the dreams had started.
Another mother, strange and bitter, a father, great and terrible, brothers and sisters aplenty. A husband, who is sweet and loving and adores her, who's gaze has her waking with flushed cheeks. Children, six of them, perfect and beloved.
She wakes screaming from dreams of that loving husband devouring the children. When she dreams of his gentle touch and soft voice while those same children rot within him, she wakes crying so hard that she nearly throws up. When she dreams of those children tearing him to pieces, she just lies in bed and stares at the ceiling.
By the time she is twelve, even her teachers call her Rhea and no one remembers she ever had any other name. She had bled for the first time when she was eleven (early by mortal standards but late, as she would learn, by demigod standards) and with the rush of blood had come a welter of memories. Centuries, millennia of memories.
Five years of dreams overwhelmed by so many more memories, everything finally slotting into place at last.
There is a reason that Rhea feels more comfortable than any other name, a reason why she feels strange and stifled in her body.
Of course she does.
She used to be a Titaness, daughter of the primordial earth and sky. Why would she be at all comfortable within the tiny, fragile body of a mortal?
She can tell there is ichor within the too-delicate veins, enough that it probably comes from one of her sons (her second, she suspects, judging by her newfound inclination towards water). But not enough. Never enough.
She is twelve when she stands before Hades' throne and the mighty god of the underworld crumbles the moment he sees her face.
"Mother?" He demands in a ragged, desperate gasp, almost tumbling from his throne in his haste to reach her.
Rhea smiles and holds out tiny, mortal hands towards the towering form of her firstborn son.
"Hello my darling." She breathes. He curls into her arms, shrinking until he is hardly taller than a mortal man, trembling as he touches her.
She is a mortal girl of twelve, and yet it feels so natural to hold this ancient, dread being in her arms. It is centuries of habit that has her pressing a kiss to the crown of his head, crooning comfort into his ears as he shudders against her. She has never been so small before but she has held him uncountable times.
"I am sorry it took so long my heart," she whispers, "can you forgive me?"
He does not speak. He just clings to her, tightly enough that her fragile mortal bones groan under the pressure. Rhea ignores them. What are bones to the closeness to her son? It has been so long since she saw her children.
She had gone to Dodona alone to fade, but she had not quite faded - there had been enough left of her to form a human soul. And she had floated in the ether for years uncounted, until Zagreus had found her and stuffed her into the stillborn body of her son's newest child.
He hadn't known who she was. Still doesn't most likely. She will tell Hades one day, when their reunion is not so raw.
She lets him hold her for what seems like hours, basking in the presence of her son. "I have to go, sweetheart." She says at last, gently easing away from him. "There is still a quest I have to complete."
He protests, clinging onto her hands hard enough that the bones grind together. She holds back the wince - he doesn't mean anything by it, not when he is used to her being taller and stronger than he.
"Stay here, mother." He begs her. "Let me keep you safe where none can touch you."
Rhea smiles sadly. How she would love to stay here, with her sweetest boy, to live away from war and grief and violence.
"Not this time, sweetheart." She says, keeping her voice soft and crooning as it was the one time she got to hold him when he was but a newborn babe. "It is my turn to do the fighting."
She crushes the pearls beneath her heel, closing her eyes as they draw her and her companions away from her son. If she had looked, she knows she would not have been able to leave him. Not again.
They burst out into the sea, where Grover and Annabeth promptly pepper her with questions. Rhea swallows. "I am the reincarnation of the Titaness Rhea.'' She says briskly as she propels them towards the shore. "Which can be more relevant when the quest is over and we aren't on the brink of death every two minutes."
Annabeth looks a little mutinous but agrees to wait until after they are safely back at camp.
Before that, of course, they have to retrieve the helm from Ares. He is waiting for them at the beach. How convenient.
"You were supposed to be dead, kids." He says cheerfully.
Rhea thinks back to her first life. He had only been a few centuries old when she faded but she had still been a presence in his life while she could.
"Do you recognise me?" She asks him, keeping her voice as level as she can. He won't recognise the composed Titan queen in her if she's trembling. It would be easier if she didn't look like a feral mortal child but beggars can't be choosers.
Ares raises an eyebrow. "Old Seaweed's kid, yeah, course."
"Of course." Rhea corrects without thinking and then decides to roll with it. "But you must be blind if you cannot see beneath the flesh. Have you truly forgotten everything I taught you, child?"
The fire starts up again in his eyes at the taunt, but his protest dies on his lips. He takes off his sunglasses, staring at her. He blinks. Once. Twice.
"Grandmother?" He demands incredulously.
Rhea smiles, reaching up to pat his shoulder. "There we go. How have you been, darling?"
He blinks a couple of times, the flames of his eyes hissing slightly on what she pretends are not tears. "Olympus has missed you, grandmother."
"I have missed Olympus." She soothes in response. "I hear you have children now?"
A nod. "Several with Aphrodite, and one with Enyo. You met the ones at camp?"
Ah, there is her sweet boy. She knew he was there behind the tough act he was putting on in front of strange demigods. "Clarisse and her siblings, yes?"
"Yes." He says, his face lighting up. "You fought her, didn't you? Isn't she wonderful?"
She cannot help the chuckle that leaves her at that. It seems her grandson dotes on his daughters as much as he ever had. Good. "The best." She says indulgently. "Now, give me your uncle's helm, darling."
Ares doesn't even hesitate before handing it over. She tosses it to the Furies hovering over the beach, and then has her grandson transport all three of them to Olympus.
"Would you take Annabeth and Grover to camp for me, darling?" She asks, staring at the doors of the throne room. "Best not to have an audience for this I think."
"Yes Grandmother." He says obediently, vanishing with her questmates. No doubt she'll have to explain a good deal to them later. She would rather do it when they have time as opposed to this very minute on the brink of a war. They can wait.
Rhea slams open the doors and stalks inside to where her younger sons are slumped on their thrones glaring at one another.
It feels so familiar that it brings a lump to her throat. How many times had Hestia come running to her to stop Zeus and Poseidon quarrelling?
They both glance up with matching scowls at someone daring to enter the throne room so disrespectfully.
Perhaps no one has done so since she had - after all, no one else could claim to be mother to half the council and grandmother to the other half. Except Aphrodite, she supposes, she'd almost forgotten about her baby sister.
Both of them go white the moment they clap eyes on her. Well, at least they're more observant than Ares had been. How the silly boy hadn't noticed her is beyond her understanding.
She still has several criticisms as to the way her boys acted in her absence (beginning with, but by no means limited to, the shameful way they have treated their sisters).
"Hello boys." She says cheerfully. "Zeus, sweetheart, I have your bolt. Keep a better eye on it in future. Poseidon, the pollution in the seas is appalling, I hope you intend to do something about it."
They are still staring at her, jaws hanging open.
Rhea sighs. "Yes it is me, yes I am a mortal, no I have no idea what your father is doing beyond that he is trying to rise. Which reminds me, Zeus, what is this nonsense about him being stuck in Tartarus? You know that isn't permanent, Olympus has been dreadfully slack the last few millennia as far as I can tell. I nearly got sucked in when I went near the entrance. Terrible maintenance."
"It's Hades's job." Zeus manages to get out, still staring at her like he doesn't believe she's there.
"That's another thing." Rhea snaps, putting her hands on her hips and levelling her boys with a disappointed look. "Hades is monstrously overworked, only allowed to see his wife for half the year, and Grover told me he's banished from Olympus save for the solstices? That is not how I raised you to treat each other. I don't see his throne or Hestia's here either even though half of Zeus's bastards are on the council. What have you all been doing with yourselves?"
Poseidon lets out a watery laugh. "It's good to see you too, Mother."
She softens a little and opens her arms. "Come here, boys."
The two kings stumble down off their thrones much as their elder brother had only hours before, shrinking down as they throw themselves into her arms.
They fit oddly against her tiny, mortal body, but still as perfectly as they ever had. They are her babies after all.
Rhea presses kisses to first one beloved face and then another. There are tears in their eyes, which she tactfully does not mention. "I love you, darlings." She tells them, holding them as tightly as she can manage with her fragile mortal body. "And I see those elbows. Stop it."
Sheepishly, they retract the elbows that had been digging into each other's sides.
"Sorry Mother." Poseidon responds, Zeus only a beat after him. They shoot sideways glares at each other.
Rhea sighs. "Boys."
"I missed you, Mother." Zeus says softly, ignoring Poseidon. "So much."
"We all missed you." Poseidon cuts in.
Rhea tightens her arms before they can resume elbowing each other. It's like they never grew up at all. She will admit it's rather harder to do this in a mortal's body. "I missed you too, my loves."
Behind them, the doors to the throne room slam open. Rhea whirls, releasing her sons in favour of grasping for her sword.
She lets it go again just as quickly when she sees the three figures racing towards her.
"Hello sweethearts." She opens her arms for her daughters to burrow into them. "I am sorry it took so long."
Hestia is openly weeping into her shoulder, and Demeter and Hera aren't much better. Five of her six children in one place.
Rhea feels better than she has since she began to fade.
"I love you all." She tells them, pressing kisses to her girls's cheeks and blowing more to her younger sons. "I love you all so much."