Hakyeon, Son of Hestia (1/2)

Hestia holds a small bundle in her hands. It squirms, as she runs from the camp. She plans to raise what's inside away from the camp. She stills, and pulls back the charred blanket. The little baby inside coos out, blinking up at her. She smiles, and rubs his soft cheek.

A growl erupts from behind her. She covers his face, and takes off again. Green lights flicker before her. She nods, as follows after them. Dryads have always taken care of the gods. They disappear, as she makes it out of the forest before. She leaves past the barrier of the camp. She runs, as the growls fade behind her. She uncovers the baby's face again. "Let's get you someplace warm."

"Hakyeon, come to the fire," Hestia calls. Bare feet pad against the floor. She laughs, as the body stumbles to kneel beside her. He smiles up at her, blinking his big brown eyes. His five-year-old body is burnt slightly, with his clothing singed.

"What are we doing, Mommy?" He asks, rolling up his sleeves. She smiles, and pushes back his black hair.

"You're going to learn how to build a proper fire," she speaks, gesturing before them. A mini-cave of stone sits before them. Hakyeon moves closer, eyes widen in amazement.

"You told me not touch the fire," he says, as she places wood in front of him.

"I think you're ready now," she whispers, brushing her hands on her pants. She pushes a hair back from his face, and pecks his cheek. He blushes, and moves away.

"Gross," he whines, laughing after. She pulls back.

"Alright, Hakyeon. Why don't you follow your instincts and build a warm fire for us both?" Hestia offers, gesturing to the wood before him. Hakyeon nods, and moves forward, grabbing small pieces. It doesn't take long for a steady blaze to appear before them both.

Hakyeon washes off the ash and charcoal from his fingers. Tears streak down his face. He sobs quietly, as he scrubs as his skin. It turns raw, and he sinks to the ground. He closes his eyes, and curls into a ball.

A gentle touch rubs his cheeks. A thumb wipes away the tears. "What happened, Hakyeon?"

"Mean people, mommy," he whines, like a five year old.

"You're ten, Hakyeon. You should know that mean people have those problems they mock you for," Hestia coos, pulling him into her arms.

"They called me ugly. Said my skin was too dark. They also said I was dirty," Hakyeon whispers, snuffling after.

"Hakyeon. You are beautiful. You work so hard to make warmth for both of us. Your skin and the ash on your fingers show that. You've probably done more than they every could," she speaks, kissing his cheek. He cuddles into her, smiling happily.

"I love you, mommy," he whispers, as she plays with his hair. She smiles back, as Hakyeon curls closer.

"I love you, too, Hakyeon. Did I ever tell you how you were born?"

"No," Hakyeon denies, looking up at her.

"I was at this camp. There is a big hearth where the cabins are. I was building it up, when I cut my finger. Some of my blood landed on a log in the middle of the blaze. It changed slowly, forming a small baby, and do you know who that baby was?"

"Me?"