A/N I feel like Hestia really isn't appreciated enough in this fandom. Also, I always wanted to know more about her friendship with Nico. So I decided to do what I do best; write a short, grammatically inaccurate one-shot to satisfy my feels.

Percy and Annabeth quickly forgot about Hestia. It's not like their memories of her disappeared or anything; if they were to be asked about their encounter with Hestia, they would know what you were talking about. But outside of direct inquiry on the subject, which never happened anyway, they never thought about Hestia.

Hestia, of course, had been expecting this. The few heroes that had met her almost instantly forgot about her. Everyone knew the story of how Prometheus stole fire from the hearth of the gods, but you never heard of Hestia, who had helped him take it.

Percy had last longer than most heroes. For a few days after the Battle of Manhattan, he had toasted her at every meal. Whenever somebody congratulated him on saving Olympus, he would always say, "Oh, Hestia helped too. Besides, Luke saved Olympus, not me."

But after a while, he stopped adding the part about Hestia and just said that Luke had saved Olympus, not him.

Whenever he told his new friends of the Battle of Manhattan, he usually gave Hestia a one-line mention. "Also this goddess Hestia took Pandora's box.".

Whenever Percy and Annabeth would reminisce old times, they would always think of everything, big and small. But they never reminisced over their meeting of Hestia.

The only one who remembered her was Nico. Hestia remembered the Bubbly, then brooding, Son of Hades fondly. He had never had a stable home, or when Bianca died, he didn't even have any family. The hearth welcomed him home.

But eventually Nico found a new family. Nico, Hazel, Will, they were his family now. Hestia could never think badly of his new friends, and she never tried. She was happy that Nico had found friends and was happier now.

But still, some part of her wished he remembered her too. But even when she first met the boy, she knew he wouldn't remember her forever. A fews days, a month, a year or two if she was lucky. But not forever.

Nobody would ever write epic poems about the deeds of Hestia. Nobody will ever dedicate their life to the remembering and recording of her tale. But still, she hopes. Becuase after all, hope survives best at the hearth.