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2026-02-08
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2,346
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1/1
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our gods have abandoned us, left us instead

Summary:

The divide between the Greeks and the Romans isn’t a good thing, but the consequences hit Percy harder than he expected.

Notes:

mav! you say, aren’t you supposed to be practicing past tense? for no reason in particular?

yes! yes, i am!

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

Percy’s brother is standing in the mess hall.

The Argo II is sailing east, making its way steadily through the middle of the Atlantic. The ocean is beautiful, and so are the sunsets, and sunrises, and sometimes they’ll see dolphins and even whales, but…they’ve all been stuck on the ship for days now, and everyone’s going a little stir-crazy.

But that’s fine. Percy can do stir-crazy. He can manage. What he can’t manage is his father’s pompous, annoying, stuck-up heir standing at the table like he owns the place.

“Nope.”

“Perseus,” Triton calls. There are no other Perseuses on board.

“Nope,” Percy answers, making the fastest one-eighty of his life and running directly into Jason. Stupid Jason, following Percy into the mess hall. Who even eats food at lunchtime, anyway? Doesn’t he have something productive to do, somewhere else to be besides right in Percy’s escape path?

“Perseus,” Triton repeats, in that tone of voice he uses when he’s giving out orders. He should know better. Percy has never listened to an order in his life.

“Nope!” He tries ducking around Jason, a task made infinitely more difficult by Jason staring gormlessly at Triton like he’s never seen a merman quite that full of himself before and not moving out of Percy’s way. It partially works: Jason stands, statuesque in the doorway, with one of Percy’s feet on either side and the demigod himself awkwardly straddling his thigh like a fucked up pony.

“Perseus Jackson, so help me Pontus, you will sit and speak with me like an adult or I will tell Father about your run-in with Keto and Phorcys.”

Percy freezes. Pokes his head around Jason’s thick skull, very slowly. “You wouldn’t.”

Triton raises an eyebrow. “You needed the help of a satyr and a koi fish to escape?”

Oh, that’s it. “It’s not my fault the water wasn’t wild anymore! Do you have any idea how hard it is to convince stagnant water to do anything? Do you?” Triton merely crosses his arms. “I bet you don’t. I bet you’ve spent the last several millennia flouncing around playing with only the wildest of waters and you don’t even know how lazy and sluggish stagnant water is. You’re always poking at me about how you’re dad’s heir and you’re a god and you’re better—“

“All accurate,” Triton interrupts with a sniff. “And…it is heirship I come here today to discuss, Perseus.”

That gives Percy pause. “Huh?”

Triton huffs haughtily and rolls his eyes with extra dignity and sits down with extreme grace, or whatever it is spoiled sea princes do when they’re annoyed. “I come to you, brother,” and boy does Percy hate that emphasis because Triton never calls him brother, “to discuss the heirship of Atlantis.”

And Percy feels the need to repeat: “Huh?”

The words coming out of Triton’s mouth look like they physically pain him. “Father is…incapacitated, as you well know. It is my job to keep the oceans running in his stead. Part of that is to declare an heir of my own, should anything happen to me.”

Percy squeezes back around Jason, who is doing his best impression of a door, and makes his way to sit across from Triton. “And you’re here?” Percy asks, pointing at the table in case Triton needs a reminder of where here is. “Not seeking out Rhode, or Kym, or—or Delphin, or literally anyone else?”

Another eye roll, with extra disdain mixed in just for Percy. “Rhode is celebrating her anniversary and will not return within the next decade. Kym is gallivanting around with the enemy and sullying whatever may be left of her reputation. Delphin is not of our blood.”

“So I’m literally your last choice.”

“Yes.”

“Did you ask any of the horses?” Percy presses. Surely, Triton forgot someone. Surely, Pegasus would like to be heir to the throne of Atlantis. Or, perhaps Arion would like a chance to cuss out mer nobility.

“Perseus, I am not leaving a horse in charge of the ocean,” Triton snaps. At least Percy is trying to think of a solution. Triton’s just sitting there looking regal and imposing and generally unhelpful.

Percy squints suspiciously. “And what if I say no?”

“I’m sure you don’t need this ship to cross the Atlantic. You can swim just fine, Perseus.” Triton gives a royal smile that screams threat and danger and oh, Percy knew he was gonna be a bitch about this.

He scowls and crosses his arms. “You know, we’re gonna kick Gaea’s ass, and then I’m gonna tell dad on you, and then he’s gonna let me kick your ass.”

Triton grins like the cat that got the cream and Percy is about to set a cat on this oversized fish fillet if that’s what it takes to get him off this ship. “Feel free, as an heir to the throne.”

And as Percy grumbles under his breath about meddling brothers and stupid royalty, Jason’s brain finally catches up to his eyes. He throws himself into a deep bow and intones, “My Lord.” Then he glances over at Percy and his nose wrinkles in confusion. “Lords?”

If looks could kill, they’d be down to six prophesied demigods. “Dude,” Percy scowls. “Don’t even start.”

Triton, meanwhile, eyes Jason approvingly. “Your friend has manners, Perseus. You should learn from him.”

“I don’t waste manners on gods.” Percy sends Jason a glare and jerks his head at him, trying to get him to stop fucking bowing. He’s not sure if Jason listens because he’s tired of bowing or if he thinks Percy is some kind of actual royalty and, gods, does that just so not help his mood. “Now, can you get the fuck off my ship?”

“See you in Atlantis in three days for the coronation, Perseus. Do wear something more presentable than a torn shirt and stained jeans.”

“Oh, piss off. You’ll be lucky if I show up at all!” Triton raises an unimpressed eyebrow, flips Percy the most regal-looking bird he’s ever been on the receiving end of, and vanishes into the spray of a crashing wave, which is incredibly out of place in the mess hall.

“Uh,” Jason says helpfully.

Percy growls and shoots up to his feet, pacing like his life depends on it. “He thinks he’s so great,” he complains, “with his stupid conch and his stupid waves. I’d like to see him get stuck in that stupid aquarium. See how he handles stagnant water.” He turns to Jason. “You need a spine, bro. Tri’s not even one of the important ones. Why’d you freeze like that?”

Jason offers a weak shrug. He’s adjusted enough to Percy’s general attitude that he doesn’t even try to preach respect at him anymore. “He could probably still squash me like a bug.”

Percy huffs. “I doubt it—well.” He examines Jason with a frown. “Not like a bug. Maybe more like a baby.”

“Thanks,” Jason says drily. “Really. That gives me all the courage I need to call him a son of a b—“

Percy’s across the room slapping his hand over Jason’s mouth in a blur of desperate motion. “We can insult Triton all we want,” he says lowly, eyes wide, “because he’s useless, really, he is—but we don’t do the same for my stepmother.” He doesn’t move until Jason nods mutely, and then he drops his hand and shudders. “Sensitive doesn’t even start to cover it.”

Percy can just hear her preaching in his ear. A Lady never lets an insult slide, Perseus. Poisoned words are repaid with poisoned actions. And, hey, the line between flippant and downright disrespectful is Percy’s playground. He can play that game no issue.

What he can’t do is keep the Argo II safe if she just so happens to overhear and decides to send a hurricane and a kraken and a tsunami and a waterspout and a whirlpool and fucking flying blue monkeys all their way at the same time. Percy’s a decently strong guy, but even he has limits.

Jason breaks the heavy silence. “So…coronation, huh?”

“Nah, he was kidding.” Percy subtly moves to cross his fingers behind his back. Luck isn’t fond of him, but maybe, if he hopes really hard, Jason will believe him. “They don’t really do coronations down there. I’ll just start getting reports about the population levels of sea horses in the Hermes Express.”

Jason sends a narrow-eyed leer his way. “He didn’t seem to be the kidding type.”

“What, he’s an ass, so he can’t have a sense of humor? Come on, Jace, I know you’ve had to sit through Octavian’s hour long pirate joke before.”

“It’s—it’s not…” Jason can’t muster up an enthusiastic defense. It’s because Percy has a good point and he knows it. “It’s not an hour long.”

“Uh huh,” Percy agrees, except he doesn’t and he and Jason both know it. “Sure.” And before Jason can remember why Percy distracted him in the first place, he gets the hell outta dodge.

When Annabeth finds him, hours later, he’s chilling in the stables. Curled up, behind a few boxes of supplies, totally not hiding. Except that’s not exactly true, and judging by the look on her face, Annabeth knows it, too.

“Midlife crisis?” She asks, settling next to him. Percy throws his head back and laughs. He laughs, and laughs, and only when it’s a struggle to keep breathing does he stop.

“Annabeth, I’m a demigod. I had my midlife crisis at eight years old.”

Annabeth snorts, but she really can’t argue. “Existential crisis, then?”

And that sounds right, doesn’t it? How did his life lead to this? Hiding in a stable trying to ignore the fact that his asshole brother is trying to induct him into the royal fucking family. Percy’s just some kid from New York.

“Mhm.” Percy drops his head onto Annabeth’s shoulder. “So, I’m thinking hair dye, color contacts, spray tan. I just need good name ideas, because all I’ve got so far is Bob Chase, and a way to Mexico. Or maybe Alaska.”

Annabeth totally blushes when Percy says he’s going to take her name. Percy doesn’t actually look at her face, but he knows it. She blushes and he’s so tempted to derail her attempt to talk about it with merciless teasing. “Seems a bit extreme.”

“It’s that or actually let Triton make me a prince, and I’m just ideologically opposed to the concept of monarchy as a whole, you know?” Annabeth sends an amused side-eye his way.

“What’s really bothering you, Percy?”

And that’s…exactly the line of thinking Percy is trying to avoid. He knows what’s bothering him. He knows why this situation feels so wrong. He knows down to his marrow just how dire the situation must be, just how violent the fight between Neptune and Poseidon must be getting for Triton to come to him.

“This is real.” Percy takes his hand and places it over Annabeth’s and feels the run of her fingerprints against his. “If Triton needs an heir, Poseidon is out of the picture completely. He’s struggling that much. The divide between camps is that great. We have to bridge—more of a chasm than a gap, honestly—somehow, to fix the conflict between the pantheons.”

Percy allows himself a deep breath before pushing forwards, to the stuff he really doesn’t want to say. “And I don’t want to, Annabeth. We’ve all been dreaming about it. Every time I hear the Romans’ plans for Camp, I want to jump ship and go destroy their army myself.” Percy lets the hand that isn’t tracing whorls on Annabeth’s wrist clench into a fist. He lets himself feel his rage, just for a moment, and then moves past it.

He ignores the way the ship lurches in the waves when he does.

“And now, on top of that, I have to worry about Atlantis. I’m not about to turn Triton down—just showing up and talking to me about it was practically him begging for help.” Percy worries his lip. “And I guess I just really hate problems I can’t slice in half with my sword.”

“Have you tried slicing Atlantis in half?”

Percy can’t help his laugh, and Annabeth grins smugly at having torn it from him. “Something tells me that wouldn’t go well.”

Her hair tickles his nose when she nods. “I suppose that’s fair. Okay, have you tried slicing New Rome in half?”

“Well…I stopped some other guy from trying to slice it in half,” Percy offers, “By slicing him in half. That count for anything?”

Annabeth hums, pretending to think about it even though it totally counts for something. “I guess,” she decides. “Next best idea I have is, slice Gaea in half.”

Percy can’t help the way his hand itches to be holding Riptide whenever her name is brought up. Annabeth notices the twitch, and curls her fingers around his, and starts tapping them, one at a time, back and forth. “You know…I really like the sound of that plan.”

“I know.” Pressing her head into his, Annabeth continues, “now how about we go brainstorm how to do just that?”

“You’re evil,” Percy complains as he stands, then helps Annabeth up. “You just came down here to lure me out of the stables. Did you even care or do you just hate it when I smell like hay?” Annabeth doesn’t answer. “Well?”

“Shh, I’m thinking.” The silence continues until they reach the stairs. “I think it’s probably the hay thing.”

She sends him a goofy wink and runs away cackling. Percy scoffs in mock outrage, and gives chase. “Just you wait, Chase! When I catch you I’m dumping you in those haystacks!”

It isn’t until later—after he doesn’t manage to catch Annabeth before she has to go on guard duty, after Jason tells him that he’s full of shit and Triton was totally not joking about that coronation thing, was he—that Percy realizes that he actually feels better about it all.

Notes:

song title from Farewell Wanderlust by the Amazing Devil

this work has been written with a part 2 in mind. however i actually have a Writing Schedule to work with for the foreseeable future, so we’ll get to that when we get to that.

hope you liked it!