Chapter Text
There are few things in this world most can compare to giving birth. It is one of the worst pains nature forces one to go through as a woman. The pain she was feeling however, Sally thought, wasn’t normal.
She’d heard other women talk about their abdomen, their back, their groin, their hips. Granted, she felt pain there too - a lot of pain - but she’d never heard anyone mention a pain in her heart.
Yeah, you heard that right, her heart. It was like every single moment of heartburn she’d ever experienced smooshed together, then dialed up to 11. If it weren’t for the pain meds she was on, and the comforting (though invisible) presence of her lover, she was sure her heart would’ve given out by now.
But, after nearly 5 days straight of labor and an additional 9 months of pregnancy, all that pain came to this one final push - and she put every last drop of effort she could into it.
With clenched teeth and strained muscles, along with no small amount of encouragement from all parties in the room, the baby came out - drenched in blood and various other bodily fluids she didn’t care to think about.
She wasn’t sure just how much time had passed, given that she passed out moments after the baby’s birth, but when she opened her eyes a nurse walked into the room with her crying baby swaddled in the softest looking teal blanket Sally had ever seen.
The nurse handed the screaming child over to Sally and the effect was near instant. The crying ceased and the little bundle’s tiny hands reached out to play with its mother’s sweaty hair. It was then that Sally noticed just how… small… the baby’s pupils were.
The nurse, seeming to pick up on the new mother’s observation, piped up.
“Ahem, the Doctor seems to think it’s Miosis, though we aren’t sure how he got it. It’s treatable with the right medications.”
Sally simply nodded, too exhausted to care. Her baby was okay, her baby was healthy, her baby was right here - where it belongs.
With a subtle shift in the air, the nurse vacates the room, leaving Sally alone with her baby… and her lover.
“May I hold him?” He asks as the invisibility drops, revealing a very tall (likely 6’8 though they never measured), tan skinned man with eyes the same color as her baby’s.
Reluctantly, Sally handed the child over, her eyes locked onto the infant - who looked absolutely tiny compared to the mountain of a man holding him.
The baby seemed… curious of the man. Not crying, nor playing; simply staring wide eyed at this person who must be his father.
“He’s strong.” The man mutters, his thick, dark brow furrowing as he inspects his son. “I have no doubts, he will be the greatest hero the world’s seen.”
“I’d rather he not be a hero at all!” Sally protests, her eyes wide with panic at the mere thought of her child being in danger. “Surely you can protect him!”
The man’s face darkens as he hands the child back to his mother.
“I’m sorry, Sally. I’ve already broken one Pact, I cannot test the River Styx any further. Not right now, while the wound is still fresh.” The man replies, his deep voice carrying a slight tremble of resentment regarding the debacle.
“I know… I’m just worried. I’ve read the myths and stories. I don’t want him to be another Achilles!” Sally replies, tears bubbling at the corners of her eyes before she glances down at her newborn son - so blissfully innocent, so ignorant to the troubles and perils that await him.
“He won’t, Sally. That I swear to you upon my Throne and Trident. The seas will always look out for him.” The man replies, conviction and strength coloring his deep tone.
“I remember one of the stories ended happily… or at least as happily as one could, given the circumstances.” Sally whispers, her hand grazing over her baby’s head; almost too afraid of breaking him.
“Perseus. My brother’s son.” The man says, already guessing where this is leading. “You wish to name my son after my brother’s?”
“It can’t hurt, can it?” Sally asks, her eyebrows and shoulders raised in a shrug. “Maybe it’ll bring him luck?”
A crack of thunder rips through their conversation, the sea green eyes rolling in exasperation.
“I know, you need to go. Thank you for being here for this, Poseidon.” Sally says, sending a melancholy smile to the Sea God.
“If I could have my way, you and he would be brought to Atlantis. He’d be raised with all the amenities of a God, not squirreled away in this… city.” Poseidon comments, gazing for perhaps the last time upon his son and lover.
A moment of silence passes, then he is gone - an imperceptible wind passes through the open window and carries the Sea God away from the New York Hospital; harrying him back to the Atlantic Ocean - to Atlantis, his kingdom below the waves.
Yet his heart can’t help but be left behind with the sweaty, tired frame of Sally Jackson and their son Perseus.
~ Time Skip: 5 years ~
Sally Jackson, currently the proud mother of a rambunctious little whirlwind of goofiness, is dreading having to speak to said whirlwind. You see, his grandparents (her parents) were going to come over for Percy’s birthday, as was tradition every year. But their plane got caught in a terrible storm and according to every person she could think of to call, there were no survivors. So it is with a heavy, broken heart, that she gently calls for Percy to come downstairs.
Instantly, a little boy dressed in an orange shirt made to look like scale armor and pants the same shape of green as his eyes comes sliding down the railing, his favorite shark plushie in hand as he giggles upon tumbling at the base of the stairs.
“What have I told you about doing that?!?” Sally yelps, hurriedly picking up her son and checking him from every angle for any cuts, bruises, broken bones, anything at all.
“Do not do it.” the young boy giggles, a big cheeky smile on his face as he wraps his arms around his mother’s thigh.
Sally lets out a sigh, ruffling the boy’s wild hair before waddling over to the couch; weighed down by the preschooler dangling from her leg.
“Percy, dear, let go.” She requests, pulling the toddler off her leg and setting him on the couch next to her.
She takes a deep, shaky breath in before speaking. “Remember Grammy and Papa? They were gonna stay with us for your birthday.”
“Yeah! I’m gonna show Grammy Bruce and tell Papa all about Aquaman!” Percy chirps, showing her the plush shark (the aforementioned Bruce).
“Well, they… won’t be joining us for your birthday. Or Christmas, or Easter.” Sally starts to say, her throat closing up as the words choke her.
“Why? Are they in trouble? Huh! Did Black Manta get them?!?” Percy asks, his young mind racing to the fantastical world of DC Comics.
“N-No sweetie. They’re… gone. Gone, gone.” Sally replies, tears stinging her eyes as she tries and fails to stay stoic.
“No… no, no, no, no, NO!” Percy yells, squeezing the plush shark like his life depends on it. “They promised they’d be here tomorrow! They promised.”
The shards of Sally’s broken heart are crushed into a fine dust at the sight of the trembling boy in front of her. Without a moment’s delay, she wraps her arms around her son; desperate to squeeze the sorrow and pain from his shoulders. “I know sweetie, I know.”
And so they both sat there, one silently crying while the other not-so-subtly cried until eventually the louder of the pair fell asleep - his little cheeks streaked with salty tears.
Gingerly, Sally picks up her son and carries him up to his room, tucks him into bed with his shark plushie, and closes the door before sinking to the floor; leaning against the door to her son’s room, she sobs into her knees.
An hour or so later, when Percy should’ve been deep within Morpheus’ realm, Sally hears him speaking from beyond the door.
As quietly as she can, she creaks open the door and nearly chokes on her saliva at what she sees.
There, sitting on her son’s bed, was her mother. But, it isn’t. She’s… gray? Like in the old black and white Vincent Price films she and Percy would watch on Halloween every year. And she was transparent, or at least partially. All the same, it was definitely her mother who appeared to be speaking to Percy, though sally couldn’t hear her voice.
Percy could, it seemed, as he spoke in an excited, animated voice seated next to his deceased grandmother, ranting his lungs out about all sorts of trivial facts about what kind of shark Bruce was. If Sally looked back on it, she can’t explain why she didn’t scream. The scene looked like something out of a Horror movie, the ghost of an old woman seated on the bed of her grandson. Did Sally mention that Percy’s eyes were glowing? For that matter, so were his nostrils and mouth. The light was green and pale, reflecting off of the young boy’s teeth. It wasn’t a harsh glow either, but soft like that of a dying campfire.
Sally doesn’t remember what words were exchanged between the phantasm of her mother and her son, all she could think was that she needed to speak to Poseidon… NOW.