.x Pandora's Box x.
.
"The human heart has hidden treasures,
In secret kept, in silence sealed;
The thoughts, the hopes, the dreams, the pleasures,
Whose charms were broken if revealed."
-Charlotte Brontë
Shame
He never wanted her.
There was no way for him to deny that small, but damaging fact.
When he had met her mother, he was enraptured by her. He had found himself lost in her wisdom, her knowledge... her very being. She had told him she was a goddess, and he had never believed anything more in his life.
But what he had for her wasn't love, it was curiosity. The goddess of wisdom, Athena, had taken interest in him, and all he could think of was questions. He wanted to know how she thought, how the world functioned. He wanted to challenge her to a battle of wits and discussions. That was all. He never wanted to kiss her, or to hold her... all he wanted was to talk to her.
He certainly never wanted a child.
When he had first seen the child, he was appalled. She had simply said it was a gift from her, and a gift it looked like. Wrapped in silk cloth and laying peacefully in a golden weaved basket, the infant looked more like the gift she supposedly was, than an actual child.
Can't you keep her? he had asked, not bothering to hide the slight disgust that was apparent in his voice. That was a bad thing to do. The goddess was livid at his remark, but explained the rules to him nonetheless. She was a gift -- a gift he did not want, a gift he could not return. And so he was stuck with the child. Annabeth...
~o~
Growing up, she was indeed a lovely child by any standards, but he still could not hide the fact that he did not want her. She loved him, the love that a child shows only to their parents, but he never returned it and it hurt, because no matter how many times he shunned it, she never did stop loving him.
But she knew. She was a bright child, and she could see it in his manners, his actions, in him. It was when he had gotten married and had his sons that it became more apparent than ever. He knew the way she was treated by her stepmother... how his wife was cold towards her, and how she shunned the girl. And while he wanted to help, he didn't, because he had felt the same way.
He knew that she would cry silently to herself when she thought she was alone. He knew how lonely it must have been for her, to be in such a large house with so many people, but with no one to talk to, to play with, to love her. He had tried at some point to love her, but it didn't work. He never loved her, and he would never love her. She was her mother; interesting and lovely, but not to be loved.
She was seven when she ran away, and he hadn't even noticed.
It wasn't until dinner that he had realized that she wasn't there, when he had noticed that her chair was empty and her place, barren. He had gone to her room, to all the little places she usually spent by herself, but she wasn't there. He hadn't found her, only a small piece of paper with two words etched into them.
I'm gone.
He was shocked, but not surprised. He found it hard to grasp that she was gone, but he wasn't entirely surprised at the fact. He knew it was coming, he just had not figured it would have been so soon. He told his wife, only to be faced with the same stoic expression that he felt inside him. How could expect her to care, when he himself didn't.
It was the next day when he had walked in on his wife cradling the young boys that he felt it. Shame... he had never been so ashamed in his life. Not because he had pushed his young daughter to run away from him or that he had neglected her so viciously, but that as he looked at his young wife and their sons, things had never felt so right.
~o~
Years later, he would realized that he loved her. His wife too.
When she went missing for the second time, he refused to let her fall out of his grasp as he had those years before. He had loved her, he knew that now. He really did. He hadn't loved her like he loved the boys, but how could he? They were two entirely different cases. He had loved her in his own way, and in her own way, and it had taken him years to realize.
But it wasn't love that fueled him the most in getting his only daughter back, it was shame. Because every time he looked at her, every time he looked at the boys, every time he looked at his family when it was broken, he would always remember that feeling.
He would always remember his shame.
Brief A/N: This is clearly based on Mr. Chase's feelings towards Annabeth. I also want to take this time to thank those who reviewed, I really appreciated it!
Next chapter: Stubborn
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