Percy Jackson: Son of Hades - Prince of the Underworld

[Third Person's PoV] 

Medea chuckled softly, her hand partially covering her mouth. "Lucian, why does this surprise you so much? This is the Greek Pantheon we're talking about. One way or another, we're all related to each other."

Lucian scratched the side of his head, still processing the revelation. "I know, I know, but it's just... shocking. We're talking about the Minotaur here—a monster. It's not something you immediately realize, but when it clicks, it's such a surprise."

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he focused on something else. "So, you were in a coven, huh?" he muttered. "Can't quite picture that."

Medea raised an eyebrow, sounding slightly offended. "Why not?"

"You just don't seem the type. I figured you more as a lone witch," Lucian replied with a shrug.

Scoffing, Medea crossed her arms. "What do you take me for? Even I craved companionship, you know. Those days were my prime." Her tone turned reminiscent as a faint smile crossed her face. "I was quite popular back then—the best there was. There's a reason I was recognized as Lady Hecate's priestess."

Lucian noticed the respect and pride in her voice whenever she spoke of Hecate. Before he could comment, Medea suddenly gasped and clasped her hands together. "I just realized something!" she exclaimed, her excitement palpable.

"Thanks to this crystal," she continued, holding it up, "I'll be able to teach you everything I know even when you're at camp and far away!" Her tone grew brighter. "Oh, I'm so relieved! I thought that with me being dead, I wouldn't be able to pass on my knowledge to you. But now, that's no longer a problem!"

Lucian blinked in confusion. "You do realize I visit the Underworld, right? And as far as I know, you've already been teaching Thalia and Annabeth."

Medea sighed, shaking her head in exasperation. "Lucian, you don't stay long enough in the Underworld for me to go into depth about the things I want to teach. Not to mention, you disappear for days, sometimes weeks. With this crystal, I can keep guiding you and the girls whenever I need to."

Lucian hesitated. "I mean, I get the girls needing your teachings, but do I really need them? I am Lady Hecate's disciple, after all. Isn't that enough?"

Medea gasped dramatically, covering her mouth with both hands. "You… You did not just say that. My own son didn't just insult me like this." She stared at him in mock disbelief, holding out a hand as if physically wounded.

Lucian's expression turned deadpan. "Mother, she's literally the Goddess of Witchcraft and Magic."

Medea took a deep breath, motioning herself to calm down as she muttered under her breath. "Calm down, Medea. He's just an ignorant child who hasn't been taught enough. This is your fault, not his."

After composing herself, she looked back at Lucian. "Listen to me, Lucian. Because of our isolation, I haven't taught you much about the culture of witches, which I now admit is a failing on my part. But as someone who identifies as a witch, you must understand this: witches have an immense pride in our craft. What you just said—about not needing to learn from your own mother—can be taken as an insult of the highest degree. It's no different from calling me inadequate." She crossed her arms and muttered, more to herself, "My own son... calling me an inadequate witch. The nerve of him."

Medea shook her head, refocusing on her explanation. "As witches, it is our hope to pass on the knowledge of our craft to others—ideally to a younger family member or a disciple. Of course, it's our children we truly wish to inherit and carry forward our legacy—"

Lucian raised an eyebrow, his skepticism clear. "Really? I mean, wouldn't witches want to keep what they learn to themselves? Like, hoarding knowledge to achieve immortality or something?"

Medea nodded slightly. "There are some like that, yes. But they are rare. For most of us, our craft is a sacred tradition, passed down from one generation of witches to the next. It's not just about preserving what we've learned but also expanding it. With each new generation, we hope they'll build on it—discovering new ways to push the boundaries of magic."

Lucian tilted his head in confusion. "But what's the point of that?"

Medea sighed, exasperated. "There are moments when you're so clever, and then there are moments like this… Well, never mind that."

Lucian's eye twitched as he thought, Did my own mother just call me an idiot?

Medea continued, ignoring his expression. "All witches have an innate love for magic. It has infinite potential and power. By building on our craft and passing it down, we seek to understand just how far that infinity extends. Is magic truly infinite, or is it merely a means to an end?"

Lucian nodded slowly, starting to understand.

"As I was saying before you interrupted," Medea resumed, her tone sharp, "when you claimed my teaching wasn't necessary, you essentially dismissed generations of knowledge that I've worked to preserve and build upon. You were saying that all the knowledge I've gathered and hoped to pass on to you was worthless—that you'd rather inherit the craft from someone else entirely, disregarding mine. Do you understand the insult in that?"

Lucian hesitated. "I kind of do, and I kind of don't," he admitted. "I mean, I'll still be learning from Lady Hecate whether or not you pass your knowledge on to me. Wouldn't combining what you teach me with what I learn from her… I don't know, taint it?"

Medea pinched the bridge of her nose, letting out a slow breath. "It's like you haven't been listening to a single word I've said."

Lucian looked down, his cheeks flushing with shame.

Becoming more animated, Medea threw her hands in the air. "The point is to build on the knowledge! You take what you learn from her, you take what you learn from me, you add your own insights and understanding, and you create something new! That's the whole purpose of magic—it evolves! There is no such thing as tainting! It's all about growth and progress!" she yelled louder than Lucian had ever heard her. 

When she finished, Medea looked slightly out of breath, even though she was more soul than body. She inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, calming herself. "Sorry about that," she said, her tone softer. "It's just… we witches are very passionate about our craft and magic. It's the centerpiece of our culture, after all."

Lucian smiled and shook his head. "No, I understand now. I get it. Your understanding and interpretation of magic are different from Lady Hecate's, and my interpretation is going to be a blend of both of yours, with my own insights mixed in. Even if our interpretations are all different, it doesn't mean yours is wrong or that mine is right—it's all about what we as individuals understand about the essence of magic."

Medea blinked in surprise, then nodded with a proud smile. "That was well put. Exactly. For example, there's something I wanted to teach you that Circe taught me when I joined her coven. I'm sure you've heard of it—it's called Charmspeak."

Lucian raised an eyebrow, intrigued but skeptical. Medea chuckled at his expression.

"What? Did you think only Aphrodite and her children were capable of wielding that skill?" She shook her head, her smile turning sly. "This lesson is to show you that, through magic, we can replicate and even surpass the powers of the gods."

Her grin shifted into something darker, more power-hungry—the kind of grin that only appeared when she delved into the true mastery of witchcraft. The intensity in her eyes made it clear: this wasn't just about teaching; this was about pushing the boundaries of magic itself.

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