The house of Murphy, like the house of Cadmus, belonged to bloodshed and tragedy. They had consumed it long before Athena had for the first (and last) time encountered wary-eyed, battle-scarred Tragos in a hospital corridor. Had claimed it, she suspects, long before the boys made their vows to both Bloodshed and Tragedy.
The vows may have sealed it at the last. They certainly hastened it.
Name a boy for a conquering general, Athena might have told Ares, don't be surprised when he tries to usurp that title. Name a boy for sacrificial goat, for the prize awarded to the most heart-rending composition...
Ares would never have taken her counsel, of course. Neither would Melpomene. That's what makes it a tragedy.
By the time the final episodia was in motion, neither Athena's diplomacy nor her steel were enough to save the youngest brother. When a mortal offends against Ares' blood, be he a Theban king or a teenager from the Hole, there is only ever one outcome. That doesn't mean Athena felt no sorrow for it. Unlike Ares, she has never cared for waste.
And then, half a year after the boy Kaden was supposedly cut down, Marcie let drop a cautious reference to the ward in her care. The boy Athena had fought to save: alive, and in every way a liability.
If (and, more likely, when) her brothers learn he's here, it will be more bloodshed. Removing him is the only prudent action – from the country, for preference – but Kaden is under Hecate's protection, and Hecate will not take any more choices from him. Thus, Athena's choice stand: Cross Hecate and take care of the problem before it can become one, or work with her and give Marcie and Kaden the best chance at succeeding on their own terms.
Hecate's a stabilising influence in the city. She's not an Olympian, but these days her worship far outstrips Olympus. She's powerful, an invaluable ally, and one of the few people Athena goes to for counsel. It's a great deal to risk to preserve a truce that might break regardless.
Besides which— well. Athena has always been drawn to the tenacious ones.
Hecate's told her the story, how Kaden ran from Ares, how the dogs gave chase and tore his tender flesh apart. How the boy's soul hung stubbornly onto life, refused to follow his brothers. Hecate's no fool, either: she knows how to snare Athena's interest.
Capricious, indeed. Atropos is probably smirking into her embroidery hoop.
It's for Kaden that Athena has come to the Enodia today, with an orderly sheaf of guardianship papers and identity documents to deliver to Hecate. She's not expecting to see the boy himself: Hecate guards all her charges as fiercely as a lioness protects her cubs. But Fate again works to its own whims, and Athena's running early, or Hecate's running late, and so instead of sharing a pot of tea in the office, Athena is in the restaurant placing an order for coffee when behind her a familiar voice speaks a familiar name.
Kaden? Kaden— I asked have you had breakfast yet?
Athena flicks a nonchalant look over her shoulder, just long enough to confirm it. Yes, there's Marcie, leaning over a window-side table where a teenage boy sits hunched. Athena taps a thoughtful finger against the counter and adds a spanakopita to her order. She has had breakfast— but it so happens to be approaching midday. Hecate could have no reasonable complaint with her taking the chance to eat lunch while she waits.
Marcie leaves without noticing her. The boy stays hunched in his spot by the window. Athena pays for her order and picks an unconcerned path around the other diners to find a free table – ah, such pure coincidence! – alongside Kaden's. The boy has a laptop open in front of him, but his face is turned away, towards the window. Athena barely glances his way; she spends the next few minutes until her coffee and pastry arrive scrolling through emails on her phone. It's only once she's taken a sip of the coffee, only once she's cut into the spanakopita that she pauses, lowers her cutlery and leans across the gap between their tables with an apologetic smile. "Excuse me, could I borrow your salt cellar?"
(Her own table's salt cellar had disappeared into her bag the instant she sat down.)