The Holy Son in Marvel

The conversations mature women have in private can be surprisingly risqué, especially among friends. Vanessa was no exception. Once she was certain that Solomon and Athena didn't have any "unspeakable relationship," she began sharing tales from her own life. She spoke at length about a charming prince she'd met at another exhibition, dressed in a white suit and wide tie, and the whirlwind romance that followed—all of which left Solomon visibly embarrassed. When Vanessa finished her stories, she turned the conversation to Athena.

"What about that gentleman who usually accompanies you?" Vanessa asked. "I haven't seen him in ages. Arthur, isn't it? If I remember correctly."

At that moment, Solomon's expression turned sharp. He quickly connected the dots between Athena's previous remarks, the Sorcerer Supreme's true identity, and certain legends. He realized that the Sorcerer Supreme had once employed the traditional Camelot trick of showing up in male attire alongside Athena at exhibitions. It seemed that his transformation into a reclusive, snack-hoarding homebody had only occurred in recent years; he had once been quite the connoisseur himself. No wonder Athena had found him so quickly at the British Museum—she'd likely known all along he'd be there looking for the ring. It was even possible that as soon as he set off, the Sorcerer Supreme had notified Athena. The connection between the Sorcerer Supreme and these ancient gods was far more extensive than Solomon had realized.

Noticing Solomon's piercing gaze, Athena quickly deduced that he'd pieced it all together. She subtly rolled her eyes and smoothly shifted Vanessa's attention by inquiring about her future plans. Uninterested in their chat, Solomon wandered off to the buffet to find something he liked.

Thanks to Athena's curriculum and Eaton's art classes, Solomon found himself largely indifferent to abstract art, and this extended to his disinterest in Vanessa. The only paintings he appreciated were from classical styles, with his favorite being Lavinia Fontana's work on Athena. Although Athena claimed it didn't resemble her, she'd still purchased the Baroque painting at a high price and kept the original for herself, displaying only a replica. Athena's own favorite painting was Rembrandt's "Athena the Warrior," an image of a woman in armor that she particularly admired.

"You shouldn't be here by yourself, especially not just eating sandwiches. This is an art exchange exhibition, after all," a voice interrupted him just as he was about to take a second slice of Spanish ham. Suddenly, a force held his arm, pulling him away from the ham.

Athena had finished her conversation and now remembered she wasn't here alone. "Vanessa and I have reached an agreement," she informed him. "I'm going to sponsor her in opening a gallery in New York. But since her paintings haven't all arrived yet, we'll have to wait a bit."

"Well, now you're her patron," Solomon said, casting a regretful look back at the buffet. He sighed and shrugged. "What can I say? I can't appreciate abstract art, aside from maybe Cubism. I think anyone who funds abstract painters is wasting their money, and funding a painter like Vanessa, who specializes in chaotic abstractions, is utterly pointless. Sure, the contrast between white paint and a blank canvas might convey some sense of movement, but it's meaningless. Artists like her are unstable, and your investment will just lose money. Maybe next time I should just tape a banana to a wall; apparently, anything an artist does is 'art,' right?"

"Not everything is so black and white, Solomon. I'm not here to make money, but I won't be giving a lecture on this," Athena replied, firmly hooking her arm through his and steering him back toward the exhibition area. "Over the years, I've found some things to amuse myself with, and socializing is one of them. I love watching those idiotic aristocrats babble on; what they say is genuinely amusing. Although the nobility has dwindled and more businesspeople have taken their place, humanity hasn't changed. Most people are still idiots."

"You've got that right, my dear single mother Minerva. If fools weren't the majority, populism wouldn't be so widespread here," Solomon said as he absentmindedly watched the noisy crowd. Then he noticed a familiar figure. "Remember that story I told you about Salem three hundred years ago?" he asked Athena. "The one with all the creepy, mysterious happenings?"

"The one involving the Eye Demon? And the beautiful red-haired spy?"

"Please don't bring her up. I swear the spy had nothing to do with it. It's been ages, and you still remember Natasha?" Solomon replied. "I'm talking about the brilliant investigator who confronted the Eldritch God without going completely insane. Sure, he temporarily lost a bit of memory, but he managed to keep it together. And here he is, even bringing his girlfriend to this exhibition. Hello, Coulson. I didn't expect you'd have some time off after just a few days. Fury must really like you."

"Hey!" Coulson's brow shot up, nearly reaching his receding hairline. He hadn't expected to run into Solomon at the Four Seasons Hotel's art exhibition. Had he been on duty, he would have known Solomon was in New York.

"You…" He glanced at his date, looking somewhat like a caveman caught outside his cave by a familiar face. "What are you doing here?"

"I happen to have an impeccable eye for art, Coulson." Solomon greeted the woman beside him. "Hello, ma'am. I'm Solomon Damonet, and this is my mother, Minerva."

"Audrey." Coulson's girlfriend exchanged a smile with Solomon and Athena, shaking their hands. "I just got in from Portland yesterday. So, Phil, you know these two?"

"I wouldn't say that, but he would," Athena said, gesturing toward Solomon. "I've heard that my son and Coulson have had some interesting adventures together."

"Oh? Then I definitely want to hear about your special agent tales, Phil. You're always so secretive," Audrey teased with a raised brow. "I must say, Minerva, you look remarkably young."

"It looks like the gentlemen have things to discuss. Audrey, if you don't mind, I'd be happy to introduce you to some very talented artists," Athena said, stepping forward and linking her arm with Audrey's. She gave Solomon a stern look as she passed him. "We'll settle this later," she muttered under her breath, "including the part about mentioning spies by name, and witches—I have a very good memory!"

"Really? Thank you so much!" Audrey said, visibly delighted. Neither she nor Coulson knew New York well, and attending the exhibition was just an elegant excuse for a date.

"Come along; you'll find this well worth your time," Athena replied, her previous irritation vanishing without a trace.

Coulson and Solomon watched as Athena led Audrey deeper into the exhibition hall.

"I didn't know you had a mother, especially one so young and attractive. Does she know your real identity?" Coulson asked, looking at Solomon with curiosity. "Did you want to talk to me about something? Don't tell me you're just here to say hi."

"I'm here to ask about Johnny Blaze," Solomon said. "Let's keep other matters out of it."

"I'm just happy for you that you have a complete family. As for the Ghost Rider, that's classified. I can't discuss it."

"Oh, come on. I know way more than you guys do. I want to know where he is—I'm tired of using divination spells to track him down," Solomon scoffed. "And his girlfriend, Roxanne. We only sent her back a day ago, and she's already disappeared. That was your doing, wasn't it?"

"She's very safe now. We've got personnel dedicated to her protection," Coulson replied, though his expression was awkward. The underlying implication was clear to both of them. Roxanne didn't need their protection, as Johnny Blaze's enemies were far from ordinary humans, and S.H.I.E.L.D. wouldn't be able to stop them.

This was more about monitoring Roxanne to control Johnny Blaze.

"How cute." Solomon's face lit up in sudden realization, tinged with a touch of cynicism. "So Nick Fury thinks the Ghost Rider can stand up to a mage?"

"Director Fury didn't mean it that way. We're in a friendly, cooperative relationship with you."

"Whatever. I need you to tell Fury that I want to meet with Johnny Blaze. Your director has been impossible to reach lately. He sends me texts, but when I try to call back, he's unreachable!"

"Director Fury can't agree to that, because…well, the Ghost Rider is missing. Even Roxanne can't reach him."

"What the hell are you talking about?!"

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