Hestia frowned a bit at her daughter. She’d expected the startled reaction, because it was truly hard to take the village in on some days, and Hestia suddenly felt guilty for the years she’d hid his name from her. She’d been selfish when her daughter was born, she’s was nineteen and had chosen to keep Megan’s fathers name from the girl because she was afraid of what others would think of her because she and Fabian hadn’t had a real relationship and he had been so much older. Hestia ran her hand through her hair nervously, taking Megan’s hand in her own and squeezing it gently.
“His name is Fabian. Fabian Prewett.” Hestia said softly. She felt like there was so much more she had to explain. She wanted to tell her about the war then, about how she was friends with him and that she was afraid of the judgement they’d get if someone knew. About how her father died before she could figure it out and she just shut down. Instead, Hestia just stayed quiet until Megan decided what to do with the information given.