— Oh, what is this you've brought, Athena? Such an interesting little thing? — she asked, smiling insolently and exchanging glances with Hera.

— I think it's an aulos. I like the sound it makes, — Athena replied, smiling, pressing the oblong object to her hands. It consisted of two tubes with holes from which whistling sounds emanated.

— Then why don't you play it for us? — asked Hera, the queen of the gods, pointing at the musical instrument.

— Oh, great! I will do just that. You will hear the beautiful art I have managed to create!

With these words, Athena pressed the instrument to her lips, drew in air, and exhaled, creating music.

— Well, how was it? Did you like it? — Athena asked the goddess of marriage and the goddess of love with a naive smile.

— Disgusting! Can such music even be beautiful? — replied Hera.

— You look so ugly when you try to play it. Your cheeks become so big that you look like a fat pig. Athena, music does not suit you, — Aphrodite answered her.

Athena, taken aback, took a couple of steps back and lowered her hand holding the aulos, gripping it tightly. It seemed she might crush her own creation at any moment. Her gaze dropped to the ground, and she replied:

— I understand. I suppose it was a foolish idea.

She looked up and forced a smile:

— I'm sorry. It was my poor attempt at a joke.

Why did their words hurt me so? — the thought echoed in her mind as she sat on a mossy stone in the forest, twirling the aulos in her hands. I wanted to cry when they said I was ugly, — Athena thought again and lifted her gaze to the sky. Ah, I am the goddess of wisdom, war, craft, and virginity, yet still I desire to be a beautiful woman. I am not interested in Aphrodite's love games or Hera's marriages; I am interested in battles, and yet I want to be beautiful. Tears welled up in Athena's eyes, and her hands involuntarily pressed against her own cheeks.

— I am too wise and warlike to cry over my appearance. Does a wise warrior need beauty?.. And yet, I am a girl, not a guy, — Athena uttered and, hurling the musical instrument onto the dirty ground, stepped on it with such force that it cracked and shattered into tiny pieces.

After that, Athena wiped the tears from her face and assumed a cold, almost melancholic smile. She was about to stand up and leave, but, hearing a rustle, she tensed. Had someone been watching her in such a desperate moment of vulnerability?