[Third Person’s PoV]

“And that’s how I defeated Heracles and sent Ares to the Underworld,” Lucian said proudly, right before stuffing a massive forkful of food into his mouth.

Medusa just stared at him. Fork halfway to her lips, she slowly lowered it, raised one finger in protest, and covered her mouth as she finished chewing with an unimpressed glare.

After swallowing, she asked, “You seriously expect me to sit here and believe every word that just came out of your mouth?”

Lucian grinned smugly and nodded. “Of course. If anything, I might’ve downplayed a few parts. But word for word? That’s exactly how it happened.”

“Excuse my language,” Medusa said, dragging her utensil through her food, “but I call bullshit on that. There’s no way you’re telling me you managed to send the God of War to the Underworld. That’s practically the same as saying you killed him!”

Lucian’s grin only widened. His eyes twinkled with pride. “Oh yeah? You don’t believe me?”

“Not a single word,” she replied, her mouth full again, finger casually hooked over her lips.

Lucian leaned back, pulled out his phone, and waved it dramatically in the air. “Well then lucky for me… I have picture evidence~”

Medusa’s eyes snapped open in surprise. “Oh, you have to let me see that.”

“Oh, I’m gonna. Don’t worry about that,” he said, scrolling casually through his camera roll. Once he found what he wanted, he slid the phone across the table to her.

Medusa snatched it up, held it out at arm’s length, then pulled it closer and squinted at the screen. Lucian had to cover his mouth to stifle a laugh.

Her eyes suddenly widened. She blinked rapidly, her expression shifting from skepticism to stunned disbelief. The image was unmistakable: Lucian crouched beside a furious and frightened Ares being dragged into the dark, empty crevices of the Underworld.

“Well I’ll be… You really did manage to do it. I’m impressed, to say the least,” she said, nodding slowly as she handed the phone back.

“Thank you~ Thank you~ That means a lot,” Lucian said, beaming arrogantly.

Medusa just rolled her eyes, finishing the last bite of her food. “I know for certain your mother would’ve been proud.”

“Speaking of my mother,” Lucian said, wiping his mouth, “Would you like to speak with her?”

Medusa blinked. “What? That’s possible? I thought she was… you know… dead.”

“She is. But thanks to who my father is, I’m still able to talk to her. Here, watch.” He held up his ring finger. The polished red gem embedded in it slid outward and expanded rapidly until it was the size of a soccer ball.

Lucian tapped it lightly. “Connect me to my mother.”

The crystal sphere filled with swirling red mist, the foggy haze shifting until Medea’s face appeared within, peering out from the crimson glass.

“Lucian! My wittle baby! How are you? Did you miss your mommy?” Medea cooed, lips pursed in exaggerated pouts, barely holding back laughter.

Lucian groaned, lowering his head as his face turned beet red. Medusa tilted her head and covered her mouth, doing her best not to burst into laughter.

“What is wrong with you, woman?!” Lucian muttered, burying his face in his hands.

“Aww, but I miss my wittle Lucy Goosey! How else am I supposed to show it~?”

“Mother, please! I’m with company and you’re embarrassing the hell out of me!”

Medea’s eyes lit up with intrigue. “Company? Who’re you with?”

Lucian pushed the crystal ball toward Medusa. “It’s someone you know very well.”

There was a pause.

Then, Medea’s face lit up with glee. “MEI MEI!” she squealed, the ball practically glowing from her excitement.

Medusa winced, visibly cringing at the ancient nickname—but her lips curled into a soft, fond smile as she stared into the sphere. “Hello, Dea. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Far too long…” Medea said, her voice softening, her smile turning bittersweet. “I missed you.”

Medusa sighed, crossing her arms and grumbling under her breath, “I hate to admit it… but I missed you too.”

Sensing the thick tension in the room—one filled with unspoken emotions, awkward memories, and the subtle weight of long-lost connections—Lucian slowly rose from his seat. The air felt heavy, almost suffocating, with a silence that teetered between sadness and unresolved curiosity. Wanting to give them space, he picked up his plate and reached out for Medusa’s as well.

“I’ll take care of these,” he said casually, trying to lighten the mood. “You two probably have a lot to talk about… and catch up on.”

“Huh? Oh, no, Lucian, sweetheart, that’s really not necessary,” Medusa replied quickly, shaking her head with a warm but firm smile. “You’re my guest. Let me handle it.”

Lucian rolled his eyes with playful defiance. “I showed up without warning, remember? The least I can do is wash a few dishes. Besides, I’m trying to give you both some privacy. Just let me be helpful for once, okay?”

Before she could argue further, he took her plate and turned toward the kitchen. Medusa exhaled with a soft sigh, then turned to face Medea, her expression softening.

“You’ve raised a remarkable young man, you know that?” she said, the fondness in her voice unmistakable.

Medea chuckled lightly, her eyes glowing with maternal pride as she nodded. “Lucian is my pride and joy. He’s everything to me.”

From the kitchen, Lucian’s ears turned a deep shade of red. Despite the clinking of dishes and running water, his heightened senses made it impossible not to hear every word they were saying.

Medusa laughed gently, a nostalgic tone creeping into her voice. “Imagine my shock when I met him for the first time and realized he was your son.”

Medea let out an amused huff. “Yeah, and imagine my surprise when he came down here and casually told me he met you—his godmother—completely out of nowhere. I figured you two would meet eventually, but I thought I had a few more years before that happened.”

Medusa smiled before suddenly coughing violently, caught off guard by Medea’s last words. “Hahaha yeah—Wait—Cough! Cough! I’m sorry—what did you just say?!”

Lucian came rushing out of the kitchen, only for both him and Medusa to blurt out in unison:

“GODMOTHER?!”

The two of them whipped their heads toward each other in stunned disbelief, then turned back toward Medea’s image in the glowing crystal ball, waiting for answers.

“Explain! What do you mean by ‘godmother’?” Medusa asked, her eyes narrowing with suspicion.

“Yeah! Seriously, what she said!” Lucian added, his voice rising in both annoyance and confusion. “What do you mean I have a godmother—and how come I’m just now finding out about it?!”

Medea chuckled nervously, she knocked the side of her head before sticking out her tongue. “Oopsie… Did I forget to mention that? My bad.”

“NOW IS NOT THE TIME TO ACT CUTE!!” both Lucian and Medusa shouted, pointing accusing fingers at the crystal ball.

Letting out a sigh, Medea’s face turned sincere, a faint blush of embarrassment coloring her cheeks. “It’s something I learned about during my time exploring the non-supernatural world. The concept of a godparent—it was beautiful to me. A guardian chosen not by blood, but by bond and trust. Mei Mei has been my closest friend for longer than I can count. When Lucian was born, there was no one I trusted more to watch over him if something ever happened to me.”

Medusa’s eyes widened slightly, her expression softening as Medea continued.

“When I felt the end drawing near, I planned everything. I wanted Lucian to grow up safe, loved, and guided. I had it all figured out… I was going to send him to you. You were supposed to raise him in my absence.”

Lucian’s mouth opened as if to respond, but Medea cut him off gently.

“I know, I know—you ended up going to Camp Half-Blood instead. That wasn’t my decision,” she added with a bitter edge. “Your father… he had other ideas. He insisted that you experience the supernatural world for what it truly is. He said it would make you stronger, more prepared, more independent. I hated it. I wanted to protect you, but in the end… I couldn’t argue. His logic made sense, even if it hurt.”

She paused, her voice softer now, filled with regret. “And since you weren’t going to Medusa, I figured… there was no need to bring up the godmother thing. It didn’t seem important anymore.”

For a long moment, neither Lucian nor Medusa said a word. They simply stared at Medea’s image, mouths slightly agape, before slowly turning toward each other again—each mirroring the same look of stunned disbelief.

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