Author's Note: So I decided, with all my raving of how much I love PJO, I should get around to writing a fanfic. This idea came to me while re-reading TLO; Hestia intrigued me. I hope you like it, R&r
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Hestia of the Hearth. That is what they call her.
Of the six children of Rhea, she is the meekest. Zeus's quiet older sister. In her mother's fond words, the one who has never given her any trouble, never kicked up a fuss. If there is a fight between the gods, as there often is, she stays away. If someone is need of a place to stay, she welcomes them with open arms. If someone wants her throne…well, she gives it to them.
Even if she knows she'll come to regret it.
It won't make much of a difference anyway, will it?
So she tells herself she was never meant to be an Olympian. One of the Great Goddesses on the Council. No, that is the place of Hera and Athena, of Artemis and Demeter; goddesses whose voices are loud enough to be heard.
She's never really been at the center of attention, never important enough to be brought up at family gatherings. Always passed by, maybe a smile or a word or two is given her way, nothing more. Forever hovering in the background.
So she becomes what they think. She hides her beauty in the form of a small plain girl, her flaming eyes the only parts of her that reveals the immortal she is. Sometimes she wishes she could be more like her sisters, wear flowing chitons and let her hair loose, be noticed. Feel beautiful.
She's never felt important. Involved. Like there is some purpose, some great Deed she was born to fulfill.
Until now.
This boy, this young hero standing in front of her makes her think twice.
His hands shake slightly as he offers Pandora's Box to her, telling her she is the last Olympian; she is the most important of them all. Hope lies at the hearth.
Her mouth opens slightly, then closes. She cannot find words strong enough to thank him.
When he leaves, off to fight the war, she smiles shakily to herself. Imagine! Hestia the meek, the quiet, is more significant than them all. Who would have thought?
Hope, happiness, is a beautiful thing to have and hold.
And she realizes, that there are many different types, different ways of being important. Of playing a role. Of changing the course of things.
She is the Guardian of Olympus's hearth, of the place the gods, her family, call home. And as long as she is there to guard it, to tend to it, it will never be lost.