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Poseidon knew, deep down, the moment his child was conceived. Could feel the spark of it, the way he had for millennia before. Could feel the sea reaching for its newest progeny. This child would be strong, it knew it. He knew it. It had to be. He had brought a curse upon it for his own selfishness, and he knew one brother, at least, would punish the child for his broken oath as well. Still, he could not bring himself to regret it. As the summer warmed, so did Sally’s womb, and he could not find it in himself to feel anything but love, for both of them. Finally, sadly, he was called back to Atlantis, having been away too long, and so he went with a heavy heart. Amphitrite, bless her, understood. She had always understood. She comforted him as best she could, and their currents danced together.
When Perseus was born, Poseidon felt it spark in his heart. He felt the currents of the sea around him dance, rejoicing with him. Amphitrite knew what it meant, and expressed her pleasure for him, even as she admonished him for bringing a child to a world that would be so hostile to him. All of Atlantis had heard of his child’s birth by the end of the day, and celebrated with him, even as they made sure to keep it quiet from any of his siblings and niblings. The sea keeps its own, and the surface will never know all of its secrets.
He lasted three months before he finally gave in to the urge to see his newest son. He’d never done well with being restrained, even if self-inflicted, and the prayers Sally had been sending him, telling him news of his son, Perseus, only strained his willpower further. Triton had seen him staring off across the depths and sighed.
“Go. Go, and see my brother. You will not rest until you have done so, and you are quite useless when you are so distracted. Mother and I can handle the affairs of state while you are gone.” It took barely a second before Poseidon was in a small apartment in Manhattan, staring down into the crib set up next to a small bed.
Sally was fast asleep, worn out by an energetic three-month-old demigod, but the child, his child, his Perseus, was waking up, reacting to his father’s presence. Poseidon didn’t decide to start moving, but suddenly his son was in his arms, staring silently up at him with bright green eyes.
Perseus cooed softly, waving a hand at him, and Poseidon fell in love. He loved all of his children, of course he did, everyone knew what he’d done to Odysseus when he’d hurt one of his children, but Perseus was special. He was as much a son of the sea as he was a son of Poseidon, and Poseidon knew that would make all the difference. He could feel, in the back of his mind, Neptune examining the child with begrudging pride. The small hand slapped him gently in the face, and he couldn’t resist the urge to press a kiss to it, warmth filling his heart.
Ten perfect fingers, ten perfect toes, bright green eyes, absurdly thick dark hair…all of his children were perfect to him, no matter what form they were given or cursed with. The Cyclops, Pegasus, Khryasor, Charybdis, Lamia… he loved them all, and saw them all as perfect, no matter that everyone else saw monsters. Perseus, however, was nothing like that. He looked as human as his mother, despite the power he contained, and he would be magnificent. Poseidon made a face at his child, remembering doing the same to Triton, Rhode, and even Pallas. To his joy, Perseus laughed, the same high, carefree chortle he remembered from his other children and grandchildren.
Above him, he could feel a storm gathering, Zeus noticing that he was out of the sea. He could not risk his child, not after what Zeus did to Maria Di Angelo. Sadly, he pressed a kiss to Perseus’ head, placed him back in his crib, asleep with a little bit of godly help, and whisked himself back to Atlantis; the only signs he’d been there were a large stuffed seahorse, in vibrant blues, greens, and purples, and a baby who slept comfortably through the night. Sally had enough troubles. This one, he could alleviate.
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Sally kept Poseidon updated about Perseus, telling him about his milestones. He and Amphitrite, and even Triton, had gotten a good chuckle when they heard that Perseus’s first word was “sea.” When Perseus hit preschool, Poseidon almost had his first heart attack. A snake had slithered into the crib that Perseus was sleeping in and had gone unnoticed until Sally had come to pick him up, only to find that Perseus had somehow managed to strangle it.
Even as Poseidon fought the urge to take Perseus and Sally down beneath the sea and ensure that nothing could ever hurt them ever again, he was also proud. His son had matched one of the feats of Heracles, without his enhanced strength, and he would only grow in power and prestige. It was only thanks to a talk with Amphitrite that Poseidon was able to respect Sally’s wishes. His wife was his greatest blessing. Still, he reached out to a few land-dwelling Cyclops sons, the ones who didn’t hunt or eat humans, to ask them to keep an eye out for Perseus. What harm could it do?
More than he’d thought, apparently, he found out a few years later, when one of his sons apologized for approaching Perseus at school. He hadn’t meant to get so close, but it had still drawn unwelcome attention. He told them all that it was acceptable to pull back. Don’t put themselves in danger. He loves them, he wouldn’t want them hurt. Perseus has Sally, and Sally is a queen among mortals. They will be fine.
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Poseidon watches sadly as his brother’s demigod daughter, Thalia, and her friends flee the monsters sent by another brother, getting closer and closer to safety, but he can do nothing but watch, knowing that they will not make it. He watches as the girl takes a stand on the hill, a small army of demigods running up the other side to help, yet another of his brothers at the head. They won’t get there in time. She knows it. He knows it.
Something in the tilt of her head, the dark hair, the attitude she holds…all he can see is his son. His Perseus. No matter what Poseidon does, Perseus may meet the same fate. He feels his youngest brother reaching for his daughter, trying to help her as she lies dying, and cannot stop himself from lending a bit of his power to his brother’s quest, and knows that no one, not even Zeus will notice, even as she turns into a pine tree, his sacred tree, rather than an oak.
He understands Hades’ rage, and would be the same way if he had lost his lover and children the way Hades had, but that does not mean he does not have sympathy for Thalia Grace. She was no more at fault than Bianca, or Nico… or Perseus. As he turns away from the mourning children on the top of the hill, including a blond girl no more than eight, the same age as his son, he almost feels guilty for being so glad it was Thalia on the top of that hill and not Perseus.
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Perseus grows, turning from a beautiful baby to a beautiful toddler to a beautiful child. Poseidon gets reports from Sally, from the Nereids around Montauk, and even from whatever fish happen to be around. When he hears from the sharks at an aquarium that they had convinced Perseus to hit the wrong button on the catwalk and sent the entire class into the tank, he laughs out loud and sends waves to Hawaii that give the surfers fits of delight.
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Things go from good to bad to worse very quickly. One moment he’s enjoying the winter solstice with his family, knowing Perseus is safely home from boarding school and staying with Sally, and the next his stubborn, hot-headed, stupid youngest brother is accusing him of stealing the master bolt, and war seems to be on his doorstep. He has just enough time to hear from Sally that a satyr reached out to her about Perseus because his scent is that strong now, and have a small panic about that, because of course it is; Perseus is 12 now, he’s going to start attracting monsters soon, but also if he goes to Camp Zeus may try to kill him, especially the mood he’s in.
He doesn’t have the time to figure out a plan for that, though, because he’s trying to get his stupid, stubborn, pig-headed brother to see that he couldn’t and wouldn’t steal the master bolt, and then getting angrier and angrier over Zeus’ paranoia and irrationality. Part of him, a part he doesn’t want to recognize, whispers, “He’s behaving like Father. Just like Father. He already swallowed one child, what’s next.”
He tries very hard to stifle that because this is his brother, but his anger is not soothed, nor is his pride, so he makes the foolish decision to answer Zeus’ declaration with his own, and so the summer solstice deadline is set. Then he finds his time bound tightly up in apologizing to his wife, preparing Atlantis for Zeus’ foolishness, and arguing with his brother, despite the chaos it throws the seas into.
He’s in the middle of whipping up a hurricane, as the bolt still hasn’t been found (what are his foolish niblings doing?) and Zeus continues to blame him baselessly when he hears it. “Please, Poseidon, please let us get just a little bit further, please let us get there in time, please keep him safe.”
He doesn’t even have time to attempt to figure out what is happening to Sally when another voice joins hers, almost directionless but going to him anyway, as it should. “Please, please, please.” He knows, even though he’s never heard this voice before, who it is. His son. His Perseus.
Something has gone wrong.
It takes too long to find Triton, to hand him the reins to the storm, and to turn his attention towards his ex-lover and his son. All he can do is watch in horror as the Minotaur, his curse, his folly, grabs Sally, squeezes her, and she disappears in a flash of golden light (that’s wrong, mortals don’t die like that). He doesn’t even have time to grieve her when his son, his small, mortal, precious son, rips off his jacket and taunts the beast.
He watches, heart in his throat, terrified to look away, unable to withstand the idea of two pine trees decorating the top of that hill, but suddenly his son is airborne, and then sitting on the back of the minotaur’s neck. He seems that much smaller, getting thrown around but holding on to the beast with all of his might. Poseidon stares as his smallest, youngest son reaches out, wraps his hands around one massive horn, and pulls.
It shouldn’t be a surprise, really, when the horn snaps off, his son had strangled a snake as a baby, this shouldn’t be too much of a stretch, but he catches himself holding his breath as his son tumbles to the ground. The Minotaur turns, faster than Poseidon had realized it could, and charges again. Somehow, his son is faster. Perseus rolls up to one knee and drives the horn he’d broken off up and into the Minotaur’s rib cage.
It’s over as fast as it had begun, and the spell Poseidon had been building, to save his son the only way he could, dissipates just as fast. Perseus grabs the satyr, unconscious, down the hill towards the Big House, and collapses at the steps. Chiron and a familiar blond girl gather him, and Poseidon can finally breathe, calming like the storm his eldest son was managing, at the knowledge that his son is safe.
Hours later, when the healers have left and he’s sure that his nephew is not paying attention, he stops by the camp infirmary. Perseus is fighting sleep, the same way he had when they had first met, and Poseidon presses another kiss to his forehead, sending him to Hypnos’ hands.
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It’s rather amusing to look in on Camp Half-Blood and see how confused most of the children are by his son. Chiron, he believes, suspects that Perseus is his, but the other campers seem entirely baffled. Perseus is not good at racing, wrestling, crafting, or growing things, and he is atrocious at archery. Poseidon imagines that, when they all grow a little, Perseus will get along quite well with Aphrodite’s children. She was, after all, sea-born, and some of them have some talent for a very mild form of Siren Song, but they were all, Perseus included, too young to recognize that just yet.
The only thing Perseus was immediately good at was canoeing, and he was very kind to the Naiads while doing so, pleasing both them and Poseidon. Perseus was also very clearly new to using swords, but Poseidon did greatly enjoy Perseus unknowingly utilizing the water he poured over his head to defeat his instructor. He would have to make sure a sea-made or sea-blessed sword made its way to his son's hands.
Of course, if things are going right, they must immediately go wrong, and Poseidon was reminded of this when the game of Capture the Flag started. After what had happened to Pallas, Poseidon did not wish to trust any of his blood to Athena or her children, but he could do nothing as his son was placed alone, as bait for angry children of Ares, with no backup, and not nearly enough training.
The children of Ares in the modern day seem to inherit the anger he has gained, a reflection of the wars he now fights in, and these ones were taking it out on his son. He watched as Perseus was attacked and electrocuted, finally relaxing when Perseus stepped into the creek. Seeing the change the water had on him was marvelous, and Poseidon couldn’t wait to see how he would react to salt water, to see how he could fight with the sea at his back or even a trident in his hand. It seemed easy for his son to take out his attackers, and Poseidon relaxed as the water healed his son of the injury done to him.
The hellhound is a horrifying surprise, and Poseidon is tempted to shake the earth beneath the Pacific Ocean so hard that it cracks open and floods the Underworld. How dare his brother? As if Poseidon has ever punished his children, has ever harmed them? If Hades does not have a good explanation, Poseidon will have a war on two fronts.
Chiron and the children of Apollo kill the hellhound quickly, but not quickly enough to prevent Perseus from getting hurt. Poseidon is surprised to find himself thankful to the daughter of Athena, the one who had been friends with his niece when she pushes Perseus back into the water, and he begins to heal.
Unfortunately, he’s doing so in front of the entire camp, including Chiron, so Poseidon knows he has no choice but to risk his son’s life. He is proud to claim Perseus as his and is aware he is being as dramatic as his brothers tend to be when he makes the trident large and noticeable. Let there be no doubt whatsoever that his son is a son of the sea, a son of the sea god, and his pride. He can feel Neptune, in the back of his mind, supplementing The Claiming, blessing Perseus with some of his own powers, giving him that much more of a chance of survival. Good. Once Zeus hears of this, he will need it.
He feels Perseus enter Cabin #3, and breathes a sigh of relief. Zeus would not be stupid enough to attack his child inside his temple. For now, Perseus is safe.
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He has just enough time to tell Chiron that Anaklusmos should go to Percy before he is summoned to Olympus. Zeus is in a fine temper, and Hera is not much better. His dear sister always seemed so insulted on Amphirite’s behalf, even if she was the one who sent him to enjoy the company of another. Zeus does not let him get a word in, ranting about how he had used Perseus to steal the bolt, how this would not be tolerated, and how both he and his son would be punished.
Poseidon was surprised to find Athena interceding on his behalf, though not so much by Hermes. Even Dionysus spoke on Perseus’ behalf, though it was rather insulting.
“The boy has no skill whatsoever that could allow him to even attempt to sneak into Olympus, let alone steal the bolt. Furthermore, he genuinely had no clue about his Olympian heritage until Chiron informed him when he arrived at camp earlier this week. And, before you claim he was lying, the brat is not a good enough actor to be able to pull that off. He couldn’t have stolen the bolt.”
The boy had the nerve to smirk at him, knowing that if Poseidon attempted to reprimand him for his words, Zeus would take it as Poseidon refuting the claim and blame Perseus again. He would get his nephew back, and he knew his glare said as much when the man-child paled and averted his eyes.
Zeus seemed to be slightly calmer but reiterated his deadline before leaving in a clap of thunder, followed by a small number of other gods. Poseidon nodded to Athena and Hermes as they left. Athena nodded back, but Hermes was fiddling with his phone, distracted, likely by his delivery service. The boy worked too hard.
Sighing, Poseidon slipped out of his throne and joined Hestia by the hearth. His favorite sister had been unusually quiet recently, and he knew at least part of that was his fault.
“I’m sorry, Hestia. I know I have contributed to making you so unhappy. I know I have made your hearth here unsafe.”
“That was not your intent, and I know it is not something you started.” She was so soft-spoken he almost couldn’t hear her.
“That does not mean it does not hurt you. You are our heart, and when we fight, it hurts you. This fight even more so.”
Hestia sighed, an acquiescence that she would never say aloud. “Your Perseus. I’ve seen how much you love him. I’ve watched him grow. His mother has turned her home into his hearth, and I’ve seen him there. He is a good boy. He will not fail in his quest.”
Poseidon froze. “Quest?”
They were interrupted before Hestia could answer, by Hermes carrying a package, grinning slightly. “Oh, Uncle P, Aunt Hestia, good thing it’s just the two of you. We’ve got a package!” He looked just a little too excited.
Poseidon, looking at his son’s handwriting, was very glad it was just the three of them as well. He was even more so when he opened the box and stared into the face of Medusa. Zeus would not have reacted well to this.
A small part of him, growing louder when he paid attention to it, was laughing gleefully. Heracles, Theseus, the first Perseus. His boy was matching them at twelve, and he would far exceed them by the time he was grown. He was going to be magnificent.
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War preparations take up much more time than he wants, especially while bragging to every warrior, general, and minor god he talks to that his son killed Medusa at twelve while she was awake, so Poseidon doesn’t actually have the opportunity to check in with Percy more than once as his son takes a train through the country. He watches his son see a centaur family, makes sure he is none the worse for the wear, and slightly influences the mortals around them not to notice anything. His son doesn’t need any more trouble.
He’s in the middle of a meeting with Triton and Delphin when a prayer reaches him, from his son. “Father, help me.”
He breaks off mid-sentence, turning his attention to his child and reaching for him instinctively. He’s falling, his child is falling, and he’s not near the sea. He feels Neptune surge within him, reaching too, but Percy is reaching too, straining for the river, instinctively finding the nearest water source. Between the two (three) of them, the polluted, disgusting water of the Mississippi rises, creating a column that reaches out to snatch Perseus out of the air, pulling him into the safety of the depths.
It is only the fear of what Zeus will do to his son that keeps Poseidon from going to him personally. Thank the gods for one of Amphitrite's sisters, who is willing to seek out her nephew and help him. He, faintly, hears his son say, “Thank you, Father.” And can’t stop himself from trying to send a warm current to him, even knowing that Mississippi would be pissy about it and he would have to spend ages soothing the aging river god. His son would know that he loved him.
Once his sister-in-law gives his message to Perseus, he watches to ensure that he gets out of the river, and back to his friends. Once they are all on the train he heaves a sigh of relief and turns back to the war plans, apologizing to both Triton and Delphin. It’s a good thing they both know how protective he is of his children, or they would have been offended.
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When HephaestusTV turns on, Poseidon is ready to have a chuckle at whatever trap his nephew had set up for Ares and Aphrodite. What he isn’t ready for is to see his son and the daughter of Athena on a boat, water gushing out of pipes to wash away countless mechanical spiders, knocking the boat free of the spiders’ grasp and sending it spinning into a tunnel with a sign over it proclaiming it “The Thrill Ride of Love.”
Poseidon, and his entire family, sit there, hearts in their throats as the children try to escape a Hephaestus trap designed to hold gods, fling themselves out of the boat and flip through the air towards the solid concrete. The satyr caught them and made sure they landed more softly than they would have, and all of them breathe a sigh of relief. Poseidon laughs at his son’s snarky comment before the stream cuts off, and he knows his family is seeing him in his son.
He knows his son is safe, but he can’t understand what happened to lead him to that waterpark. If he found out someone had interfered with the quest that had been assigned to his son without his consent, he would destroy something.
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Poseidon turns his back for 12 hours and loses his son. He has no idea where Perseus is, where he could have gone, or what could be happening to him. He can feel that his son is alive, but he can’t find him. He spends days searching, finding no sign of his son, waiting, hoping that Perseus will show up at the Santa Monica pier. Just as he’s starting to lose hope, the day before the summer solstice, he feels his son step into the Pacific.
He just about collapses in relief, and Triton does so as well. This close to the solstice, Poseidon couldn’t go himself, and he desperately wishes he could. He listens as best as he can, hearing the hurt and rage in his son’s voice, and sends a current to him. It may be cold, but he was always listening and was always paying attention to him. He hoped he got the message.
The Nereid gives Perseus the pearls, and his son leaves, going to the Underworld, beyond Poseidon’s reach. He didn’t have anyone to pray to, but he desperately wished that he could.
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The waiting is agonizing. There are only so many times Poseidon can go over defense plans for the citizens of Atlantis, and the not-knowing is probably more painful than the waiting. Half of Atlantis has taken shelter under various coral reefs already, terrified of Zeus’ wrath, and Poseidon cannot soothe them, cannot help his people, because he’s trying to soothe the Earth after an earthquake caused by his other brother throwing a temper tantrum.
Finally, finally, Poseidon feels three pearls break, and go streaking upwards, towards his domain. Safe. They’re safe. (When did he get attached to the daughter of Athena and the Satyr?). He can feel Perseus starting to explore his abilities, willing himself wet, sending a shark away. A boat picks them up and brings them to land, and Poseidon is almost ready to send some Pegasi to take them to Olympus when he feels Perseus step back into the surf.
He was right. His son is magnificent when fighting in the sea with a sea-made sword. He takes out a massive boar with a wave almost effortlessly, and Poseidon accepts it as an offering, though that may not have been the intent, and uses it to offer his son what small blessings he can. Whoever, whatever his son is fighting, let him have the strength and skill to defeat them.
He feels the summons from Zeus, his brother wanting him under his eye as the deadline approaches. It’s hard to tear himself away from supervising his son’s fight, but unless he’s fighting someone like Ares or Atlas, his own skill and Poseidon’s small blessing should be enough.
Reluctantly, Poseidon draws his attention away from his demigod son to Triton, who looks just as grim as he feels. “I have been summoned to Olympus. I trust you to defend Atlantis if necessary, but I will do everything in my power to prevent that.” Triton nods, accepting the weight that has just been placed on his shoulders. “I love you, my son. And I am proud of you.”
Triton nods again, looking, at least to Poseidon, as vulnerable as he had as a child. “Be safe, Father. Clear your name.”
Poseidon feels, briefly, the triumph Perseus feels as he defeats his foe before he reappears in the throne room on Olympus, being stared down by his brother. It was at times like this he was reminded that Zeus was the youngest of them. He seemed to need to compensate for that somehow.
Poseidon knew an argument was coming, could feel it gathering like a storm, but he would not start it. He would not harm Hestia further. Not now. He sat back in his throne, relaxing as if he had not a care in the world. Let Zeus start the fight, in front of the rest of the council. Let their siblings, Zeus’ children, and Aphrodite see him behaving in such a petty manner while Poseidon is gracious in the face of heinous accusations and threats. Ruling is not solely based on strength and aggression, and Zeus has forgotten that. Let Poseidon remind everyone.
“Your son dares to fly through my realm.” Zeus rumbles.
“To complete the quest you have assigned him,” Poseidon says, calm as a gentle wave, though he can feel a riptide growing beneath the surface. “Has he any other choice?”
Zeus growls again. “I should strike him out of the sky.”
Athena interrupts before Poseidon can. “My daughter is on that plane as well, Father. As is one of Dionysus’ satyrs. Would you kill them too?”
Zeus subsides, still grumbling. Poseidon resists the urge to poke the bear by pointing out that he had never even considered drowning one of his brothers' children for sailing, rowing, or swimming in the ocean. He was trying to rise above his brother, not sink to his level.
A message appears before him, shimmering and waiting for him to accept. He’s not sure who it could be from. Perseus is on an airplane, and cannot easily message him. Triton and Amphitirite are beneath the sea and would send him a clam-shell instead. It will not be private, not here, but he is too curious, and too trapped, to do anything but answer.
Surprisingly, Hades’ face shows up, frowning slightly, but less so than usual. “Brother, I owe you and my nephew an apology. I accused him of stealing my Helm of Darkness while he stole Zeus’ Master Bolt, and he did not do either deed. He discovered who had possession of it, and returned it to me, proving himself a more honorable hero than I had presumed. I apologize for thinking you would be so underhanded as to steal from me, and even more so for thinking you would use your own child to do so.” Poseidon stared.
“I was blinded by my rage, and it caused me to react in a most unfair manner. Please inform my nephew, Perseus, that I have returned his mother to her home, and she is fully healed from any harm that came to her before I took her for ransom.” Poseidon blinks, not sure how to address any part of that.
Hades knows him too well, and he can see the amusement in the corner of his brother’s mouth. Before he can begin to respond, because there is so much there that needs to be worried about, Hades bows his head graciously. “I wish you the best of luck in managing our hot-headed youngest brother, Po.” (He called him Po, he hasn’t done that since just after they overthrew Father!) “He is as stubborn as granite, despite being the God of the Sky.” Hades slashes his hand through the message, leaving the entire Olympic Council staring in shock at where his message had been.
“His Helm went missing?” Demeter says, horror threading her voice.
“Worse,” Hestia adds from her place at the hearth. “He did not think he could tell us.”
Zeus grumbles again, seemingly insulted by Hades’ words. “We will discuss this later. After my bolt has been returned.” He holds up a hand to quell any argument. “Leave us.”
One by one, the other gods leave the throne room, going off to care for their own domains, or to entertain themselves, leaving Zeus and Poseidon alone in the throne room. Hestia is the last to leave, rising from the hearth slowly, watching them both with cautious eyes. Poseidon feels his heart break for his sister all over again. She’d always been good at guilting her siblings into behaving and had only gotten better as they’d grown. Beside him, Zeus shifts uncomfortably. He was just as susceptible to Hestia’s guilt, even though he hadn’t grown up with it the way the rest of them had.
The doors swing shut behind her and Poseidon turns his attention to the hearth she’d been tending. It seemed warmer today than the last time he’d been here. More hopeful. That seemed like a good sign.
Zeus clears his throat, shifting uncomfortably again. “Did he tell you his Helm was missing?”
Poseidon looks up from the hearth, seeing the turn by the corner of his younger brother’s mouth that indicates his hurt and worry, the tightness of his eyes. “No. It sounds like he blamed me for it though, so I suppose that makes sense.”
Zeus scowls at that, clearly struggling with himself. “You would not steal from him. You do not want the Underworld.”
He’s so close but still hasn’t quite grasped the point Poseidon wishes he would see. “I am quite content with the sea.” Poseidon agrees. “My wife, many of my children, my people. I am very happy with my place there.”
Zeus scowls harder, taking the point that Poseidon was making, but unwilling to let go of his suspicions.
The King of the Gods slumps into his throne, almost pouting, although Poseidon would never admit that aloud. Poseidon makes himself more comfortable, quite willing to wait out his brother. The sea has all the patience it needs, and his brother has always been quick to strike. This is a battle of wills he can easily win.
They sit in silence for several hours, Poseidon feeling the spark of his son getting closer and closer to him, and anticipation building. He hasn’t seen his son while Perseus was awake since he was a baby, and there’s something very different about the idea of seeing him awake, in person, having grown as much as he had.
Finally, Zeus stirred. “The plane has landed, and your son has entered the elevator to Olympus, with my Master Bolt.”
Poseidon suppresses a growl, irritated that his brother hadn’t bothered to inform him when his son was safely on land, but straightens himself up anyway as Zeus does the same. His son had completed his quest, and he would hear everything he had to say. He steels himself, knowing that he cannot show the love he holds for his son in front of Zeus, lest it be called favoritism. He draws upon the depths, turning himself as implacable as the deep open ocean. He loves his son, and he will show him that, but not here.
His heart lifts as his child walks into the council room, head held high, still so small. Baby fat clings to his cheeks, though he’s starting to grow out of it, and his eyes spark with anxiety.
Perseus turns to Poseidon first, acknowledging his father first, and Poseidon resists the urge to smile. He soothes his brother's ire, even though he can tell his choice of words has hurt his son in some way, and turns back to his son. “Perseus. Look at me.” His son looks up, eyes searching his face for some sign of love or approval, a sign he cannot yet give. “Address Lord Zeus, boy. Tell him your story.” Perseus turns away from him and begins his horrifying yet pride-inducing tale.
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Poseidon wishes the gods could get drunk. It seems to make life much easier and more bearable for the mortals he’s seen drunk throughout the millennia. At the very least, they seem to have fewer worries. He would enjoy having fewer worries.
Outside, Atlantis is celebrating. Their young prince had saved them from war and had succeeded in a dangerous quest to do so. He is glad for them, and gladder still that they are so overjoyed by young Perseus (Percy. Everyone calls him Percy. Surely his own father can do the same). He too is so happy and so proud of his son, but that all seems to be overshadowed by what his son has told him. Ares’ behavior, the shoes dragging them to the Pit, the voice in his dreams.
Father. After all these years, was he truly stirring? Had he truly orchestrated all of this? He suppresses a shudder of fear. He still, when he sleeps, has nightmares of being trapped in his father’s stomach, crowded with his siblings, waiting for the day they would finally be free, one way or another.
Beyond the threat of Father rising, Poseidon’s brain keeps replaying every word he’d spoken to his son, every awkward word. He’d messed up, he knows it. He fears he’d managed to make his son uncomfortable, or even make him think Poseidon doesn’t love him, but he doesn’t know how to talk to Percy. He has no idea how to explain to him that he loves him, that he’d do anything to protect him, that he’s been paying attention for his entire life…but he has time. Zeus owes both him and Percy, and no god will harm his child. And he has given Percy, and Sally, the tools to protect themselves from the kind of monster he can do nothing about.
Even gods must follow rules, no matter how much those rules irritated them or pissed them off, and Poseidon is well aware of that. He wishes he could do more, but knows the time is not right. He will do more, later. Percy needs to settle back into camp, needs to get stronger, needs to be a child while he still can. Later, when Percy is more settled, more comfortable, maybe a little older–because he can’t imagine Sally will let him now–Percy can visit Atlantis. Get to know some of his siblings, learn to fight underwater, and learn about his role in the Kingdom of the Sea.
That sparks an idea. Tyson. He’s a couple of years older than Percy, technically. He must be fourteen now, at least for humans. That would make him closer to seven or eight by Cyclops standards, but he needs a friend, and Percy would benefit from a friend too. If he could get them together, they would both benefit. They would both have a protector and a friend. That was something to consider. He would have to work on that. Later. After he tried to get drunk again.
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Poseidon checks in with Percy routinely throughout the rest of the summer. He knows Percy is unsure whether or not to stay at camp, and wishes he had an answer for his son. He watches Percy get better and stronger. Watches as he makes friends, learns new things, and becomes more comfortable in his own skin, finally finding a place where he can fit in. It makes him sad that this is such a novel concept for his son. He knows Sally did her best, but Percy had suffered from the mortal world nonetheless. There is no good answer to Percy’s prayers to help him choose, so Poseidon simply sends him sea breezes as a comfort, if not what he was looking for.
He’s in the middle of lunch with Amphitrite when he feels his son’s spark dying, life fading away rapidly. The Dryads at Camp Half-Blood have dragged Percy to Chiron by the time he is able to turn his focus to his son, and he watches his brother start to treat the mark on Percy’s palm. Only when Chiron steps back does Poseidon turn his focus back to his very worried wife. He doesn’t know how Percy encountered a pit scorpion at Camp Half-Blood, but he will be quite happy to punish anyone involved.
When Percy decides that he will go back to Sally, Poseidon sends his blessing to them both and goes to work on organizing things so that Percy and Tyson meet and get to know each other. The part of him that was the Keeper of Delphi before Apollo whispers that it is necessary, and he can’t imagine ignoring that warning.