Chapter Text
No. No no no. This can’t be happening. This isn’t right. This wasn’t supposed to happen!
Above the waters the skies turn dark. Wind pushes the waves. Fishermen and sailors make for shore, prayers escaping their lips.
I won. I won! I got to live, why didn’t I get to stay? Didn’t I do enough? Didn’t I suffer enough! It’s not fair. Not fair. Not fair!
Rain turned to sleet. Sleet turned to hail. Boats crash into rocks, splintering and shattering.
Why couldn’t it have happened immediately! Twenty years! Twenty years I thought I’d survived! I got to be happy, I got to live! What was it all for if I was just going to suffer more!
A pod of whales swim away from their path. Seals make for the shore, flooding into towns and streets. Sharks dive deeper than their instincts would let them, should let them.
I went to college. I became a marine biologist. I bought Mom a house. I got married. I had kids! Oh, my babies-
All at once Percy understood. She’d thought about it before, sure, but now she really, truly understood. It hadn’t made sense before. Kronos had torn the camp apart, sure. He’d turned friends on each other, cabin against cabin, brother against brother. It was horrible, but plenty of war mongers had done that.
No, Kronos was The Crooked One. He was better than that. More powerful, more vengeful, more petty. He let Percy survive. Let the girl live. And live she did.
A bachelor's degree at New Rome. A master’s degree in Marine Biology at Long Island University. Fifteen years in a job Percy loved with everything in her. She got married, too. Anthony proposed at twenty-two. Married at twenty-five. They had Zoe three years later. When Percy was thirty-two they tried for another child and were blessed with two. Beckam and Selina. Boy and girl twins.
Zoe was learning how to multiply. The twins were about to start kindergarten. Anthony’s architecture firm finally had steady contracts. Now they’re not here. Now they’re gone. Gone. Gone!
The sea received its princess’s call. It mourned with her. It screamed with her. It tried to bargain with a being it couldn’t see and feel the emotions it couldn't touch. But nobody understands grief better than the sea. She has taken just as many widows as she has caused. She has lost as many children as have been born.
It wanted to comfort. Percy did not want comfort. So they raged.
Break
“Lord Husband, what upsets you so?” Poseidon looks up from his papyrus scroll. It was a proposal from his counsel to expand the barracks and training grounds. No doubt something Poseidon would have to smooth over with his younger brother should the proposal be approved.
“Why do you ask, love?” Poseidon responds to his wife and queen. Amphitrite doesn’t blink. She doesn’t need to. If she wasn’t already a goddess the waters would keep her eyes moist. “There is a storm raging near the coasts.” Poseidon’s eyes flicker back to the document in front of him, “It’s probably Kymolopeia.” “Normally I would agree, but this is quite a bit bigger than anything I’ve ever seen her produce.”
Poseidon sends the scroll away in a burst of bubbles. It will appear in the throne room for him to go over later. His senses reach towards the area described.
There was a storm. A huge one, in fact. Amphitrite was correct, Kym couldn’t have produced something of this strength. “I’ll go investigate,” Posiedon states before he flashes out of the room.
The god of the seas arrives at the edge of the storm. It even affects the oceans beneath it. Whoever has caused this destruction has more sway over the ocean than some of Posiedon’s own children. Something in the back of his mind pulls. It tries to remember something it has never known.
Poseidon enters the area of chaos and floats towards the middle. Not too fast, but certainly deliberate. He would cower before no one, but whoever was causing this storm was clearly upset.
He sees the perpetrator. A small figure, curled in on itself. No, wait, herself. The woman wore strange clothing. Her top was oversized and a bright blue color. A color that matched the calm summer waters. Around her legs was some sort of black cloth that stopped at her knees. There was a section for each leg.
What strange clothing.
Poseidon floated closer. The girl still didn’t notice. He sent a small wave of water to disturb her. A jerk and Posiedon had a blade poised at his throat. He didn’t move. Didn’t even react. Anger flaring behind his gaze.
How dare she? This mortal, this girl dares to threaten him? “Dad?” the woman-girl, Poseidon couldn’t actually tell- whimpers. The blade lowered, almost regretfully. Good, this thing should know her- oh. Oh, wait.
Poseidon looked at her. Fully. The woman was tall. Taller than even most mortal men. Her caramel skin spoke of a life spent in the sun. Her dark hair flowed around her in ringlets. It was her eyes, though, that truly gave away who this woman was.
They were crystalline. They shifted and moved. They glowed with power. They look exactly like Posiedon’s own. It was normal for children of the sea god to have green eyes. Triton’s resembled a neon coral. Rhode’s looked like sea foam. Kym were dark like a storm. But the changing. The ever evolving movement that defined the ocean, that was never passed on to his children.
None except the girl in front of him now. She had to be a girl, Poseidon reasoned with himself. There was no way for a child of his, a child that looked so much like him and held power she shouldn’t, could reach adulthood without his knowledge.
The girl’s hand went loose and her blade sunk to the depths below.
Her arms jerked forward. She stopped. It seemed like an aborted attempt at a hug. Like she wasn’t sure she had permission. Poseidon was willing to indulge.
The waters drew the girl into her father’s arms. She clung to him. Like an octopus wrapping its limbs around prey. Like an anaconda strangling its captive. Like a child who’d lost something and had no idea what to do.
“What has happened, my child?” Poseidon asks calmly. Despite the lack of tears the girl currently had, the violence of the storm and waves had yet to calm. “They’re gone,” the girl mumbles into his chest. “Who’s gone?”
A deep breath. A sob. The tears start again, mixing with the salt water. “Everyone.”
Break
Percy slowly opened her eyes. She blinked, trying to send away the heaviness of the lids. Her green eyes, dull, scan the room. Cobblestone walls and floors. Windows that were tinted blue, aquamarine instead of glass.
The woman sat up and floated to the edge of the bed she was on. Still underwater then. The mattress was made of something fluff and the sheets were various shades of blue. Sea silk, if Percy remembered correctly from one of Lady Amphitrite’s many royal lessons (lectures). Percy had been through quite a few of them once it was clear she wasn’t going to die.
A creak alerted Percy that someone entered the room. Her back was to them. Percy stood to her feet and turned to face the intruder. The woman who entered could hardly be called a woman at all. Long limbs that showed a recent growth spurt, and bashfulness that comes from a lack of experience.
“Oh, my lady! You’re awake!” the girl swims over and begins to check over Percy. Despite how uncomfortable it makes the woman feel she allows the pestering. “How long have I been asleep?” Percy asks. The girl, a naiad, she’s definitely some kind of spirit, hums. “About two weeks. That storm you created didn’t stop until yesterday, though. The entire court was hoping you would be awake soon!”
For a brief moment, Percy feels something akin to hope. The court was waiting for her to wake up? Then maybe they know her. Maybe she wasn’t sent back in time, maybe everything wasn't lost? Percy smashes down that feeling immediately.
The one thing she has always had a connection to, the ocean, is a dead giveaway. She can sense it, the health of the waters and the sea life. Their activity, their population. It’s too high for her post industrialism seas.
Percy allows the girl to fret. The demigod is quickly dressed in a purple peplos. The garment is held together with several pins and golden jewelry is draped on her hips and braided into her hair. This girl was clearly skilled with her work. Not once was Percy poked with a needle or have her hair yanked like when she played dress up with-
“This is too much,” Percy tried to deny. “Nonsense! This is the minimum for a princess of the sea!” Oh, that’s fantastic. A sigh escapes Percy’s mouth and the girl ignores it. “The jewelry I was wearing when I arrived, the necklace and ring, where are they?” Percy asks.
The naiad tilts her head while finishing up Percy’s outfit. “Well, that ring was really nice and it was made of silver so it was put into a jewelry box, but I was supposed to throw out that ratty old necklace. I haven’t done it yet but I’ll-” “Bring it to me.”
A shiver passed through the naiad. “My Lady, I can find you something much more elegant than that.” Percy watches the girl, “This isn’t a discussion. Tell me where to find it, I’ll get it myself.” The girl’s mouth opens. Then closes. She presses her lips into a fine line. “I’ll return with the necklace and the ring.”
She swims out of the room. Percy takes liberty and leaves the chambers that were clearly set up in a rush. She wanders down the halls of Atlantis. That’s right, she’s in Atlantis. For all that Percy had wandered these halls before, it still felt new.
The woman turns the corner and stops. A man, more fish than human, does not notice her. He keeps swimming forward without a care for the woman in his path. Percy urges the waters to harden in front of her. The man runs face first into the barrier. He sputters with irritation.
Finally, his beady eyes land on the girl in front of him. “How dare you, little girl! Don’t you know who I am!” Percy raises an eyebrow, “Not a clue.” He gasps, outraged, “Why, I am Aischylos! I am an artisan who works directly for the Lord of the Seas himself! Who is your father, girl! I should like to talk with him! Not only are you disrespectful, but you have no escort to prevent such behaviors!”
The man kept talking, but Percy had long since tuned him out. Ah, the joys of an overactive imagination.
It seems the naiad girl is returning. Percy thought she needed to get the girl’s name. Don’t forget, Percy.
As she thought, the naiad appears around the corner, necklace and ring in hand. The jewelry is handed over and Percy thanks the girl. “Thank you, dear. I don’t believe I caught your name?” The fish man flounders (hah, flounders) where he is. Percy continues to ignore him as she slides her wedding ring onto its proper finger and ties her camp necklace on.
“Perfect,” Percy mutters in English. Neither sea-folk catch it. “Is there somewhere I need to be, dear?” Percy asks the young girl. She gasps dramatically, “Oh my gods! I was supposed to take you to the throne room as soon as you awoke!” And now she’s panicking. Fun.
Percy places one hand on the girl’s shoulder and the other on her cheek, “It’s perfectly alright, dear. You’ve done nothing wrong, you’re not in trouble.” The naiad quickly calmed down at Percy’s words. “I think we need to head over there now, though,” the girl whispers. Percy smiles at her. Just a little bit. “That sounds like a good idea. But, first-” The naiad looks panicked again. “I need your name, dear.”
A red hue covers the girl’s face. “Oh, um, right. Charis. My name is Charis, my Lady.”
“Um, excuse me! You two are entirely disrespectful, ignoring your betters!” and he’s yelling again. What was his name again? Andrias? Arete? Nope, that one's a woman.
Percy puts her hand on Charis’s shoulder and guides the girl down the hall, towards the throne room.
They arrive in a matter of minutes.
Outside the throne room there are four guards stationed on either side of the door. Percy approaches one of them, a tall merman with a sunset orange tail, and switches her language to Atlantean.
“Is the King in a meeting?” she asks easily. The merman, a captain based on the rank pinning his himation together, is visibly shocked to hear his native tongue. “No, My Lady,” he recovers quickly. “Would you like to be announced?” Percy nods, “If you don’t mind.”
Despite her general disregard for rules and status quo, Percy does not feel like testing the patience of the ancient gods. Not when everything is still so new. Not when everything is still tender.
The captain swims inside the room and declares the arrival of the youngest princess. Joy, they’ve given Percy a title. Absolutely fantastic.
Percy urges the water to push her inside of the throne room. Her entrance is as graceful as possible with the exhaustion she feels. The demigod stops the standard twenty paces and dips to one knee. Her peplos disagrees with the movement but stays together despite it.
“Rise,” Poseidon commands. Percy does so.
Poseidon is young. It’s the first thing Percy realizes. He doesn’t look like the middle aged fisherman in a Hawaiian t-shirt she remembers. No, this Poseidon is visibly different. His face is bare of any hair. The only things he wears on his torso are golden chains woven into what appears as a fishing net.
Around his waist and legs, thank goodness he’s fully covered, Poseidon wears some sort of patterned skirt. It has dark triangles and small dalliances of color in the shape of waves. The base of the skirt is a dark blue, gold and silver trimmings finish it off beautifully.
No sandals adorn the Sea god’s feet. He has a smattering of black scales across his torso and face. His long hair, still black, seems to shimmer and move like eels.
“Daughter,” Poseidon greets. “Father,” Percy responds politely as she can muster. The god tilts his head to the side. His shimmering eyes are completely unblinking. Percy wonders if he learned to blink subconsciously by the time she was born or if it was a conscious thing Poseidon had done to make her more comfortable.
“What was it you called me before?” Poseidon asks. Percy frowned, “Before?” “When I first found you.” Percy looks to the side.
She bites her lip and thinks about it, trying to remember what happened. “Dad?” she says hesitantly. “Yes, that. Is that what your people use in place of ‘Father?’” Percy’s eyes widen. “My people,” she mutters.
“Your accent is foreign.” Percy doesn’t respond to that. “Yes. ‘Dad,’ is the term we use.” Poseidon nods, “Then continue to use it.” “I-um, okay.” The throne room falls into a tense silence. Is it tense? Percy isn’t sure if it’s just her or not.
The woman finally looks at the other occupants of the room. Lady Amphitrite is sitting on Poseidon's right. Her throne isn’t nearly as decorative as his, but that’s to be expected. A third throne, similar in fashion to Amphitrite’s, is on Posiedon’s left but it is unoccupied. Percy knows from experience that Triton sits there. Or her when she’s trying to piss him off.
Lady Amphitrite does not look pleased. Also something to be expected. Percy is a bastard child, after all. Born out of wedlock from a cheating husband. Amphitrite’s neutrality is born only of discipline and distance.
Oh, shoot, Poseidon said something. He’s looking at Percy expectantly. Shoot, shoot. What did he say?
Posiedon’s smile revealed several rows of razor shark teeth. That smile would have unnerved most people, but Percy could feel her Father’s amusement. “You had the gall to point a blade at my throat, there’s no need to be shy now,” Poseidon teases. This is apparently news to the rest of the court based on the gasps of surprise.
Percy’s tan hand darts up to grasp a bronze pearl on her necklace. It wasn’t there before she arrived in Ancient Greece, but she’d recognize its power anywhere. It’s only through years of experience that only the tips of Percy’s ears go red. “Um, well, you see, that’s wasn’t really on purpo-” “Your name, dear,” Poseidon interrupts. Percy’s brain takes a second to catch up, “Persais. My name is Persais.”
“Persais,” Poseidon repeats back. He slouches in his throne, resting his head on his hand. “And where is your mother, Persais? Surely she would have prayed to me in the time since you were born.”
Sally. Sally Blofis. Mom. She would be at home wondering why Percy hadn’t called her. She would be watching the kids while Estelle and Anthony searched. She would be making missing person posters the moment she realized nobody knew where Percy had gone.
Percy’s silence was, thankfully, enough of an answer.
“I’m afraid that you cannot remain here, daughter,” Poseidon picks up again. Percy’s brows furrow but she doesn’t say anything. “Atlantis is no place for a demigod,” is that because of safety or Amphitrite? “As you are still young, you will need to search for a suitable husband. The family I have asked to house you will-” “Wait, young?” Percy interrupts.
Poseidon’s annoyance is clear. “Sorry,” Percy mutters. She doesn’t let Poseidon continue, though, “I just, I need to know what you mean by young?” Poseidon frowns, “Are you not a child?” Percy shakes her head.
“No, I’m not. I’m thirty…” Wait, what day is it? Thinking back, last she remembered it was August. Mom and Anthony were setting things up at Mom’s house because the next day was… August 18th. It was her birthday. Two weeks ago was Percy’s birthday. Twenties years on the day. Damn that bastard.
“Thirty-six. I’m thirty-six.” That number clearly meant nothing to Poseidon. “Oh, so, if you don’t count infant mortality rates of this time I would probably live past sixty. But not much longer, so I have about thirty, maybe forty years left.” Thank you for the history lesson, Anthony!
Amphitrite spoke before Poseidon could respond, “You’re halfway through your life yet you remain unwed and without children. How could you be so irresponsible as to let that happen.”
This bitch.
The guards lining the walls freeze in place as the water of the throne room stills. Temperature physically dropping from a nice mediterranean to a cold pacific. small crystals form throughout the room. Ice. Poseidon looks at his daughter. He is steady, he is calm.
Percy is not.
Poseidon rises from his throne and floats over to Percy. He places a hand on her shoulder. It’s not a platitude, nor a comfort. It's a warning.
Of course it’s a warning. Percy is imposing herself on his domain. Poseidon doesn't like it when other people challenge him, even if it’s not meant to be a challenge. Percy grabs Posiedon’s wrist. Not to push him away, no, to act as an anchor.
She’d done it before. Right after Gaia. The panic had gotten out of hand. The nightmares too real, the perception too sour.
Percy didn’t try to override Posiedon’s claim on his domain. She didn’t even push back against it. No, she tried to mimic it. The calm of the seas above. The steadiness of the currents. The slight rumble of the earth below. The sludge of lava caught in earth’s cracks.
The room returns to its normal temperature. Nice and warm lazy streams. Poseidon releases his daughter and Percy releases her father.
For a moment they are the same. Currents flow. Climates match. Percy slowly lets her control fall away, becoming more passive.
Poseidon watches it all. His green eyes are consumed by the black of his pupils. He smiles wide, lips stretching till they split open. Teeth bared, shiny and oh so sharp. Skin greys and black slits open on the sides of his neck like someone had taken a knife to it. “You have remarkable control for one of my half mortal children,” he hisses as he towers above Percy.
The woman looks up at him, her face blank and neutral. The guards tense and Amphitrite rises. Poseidon’s display alarms them. Percy doesn’t so much as quiver.
She has never been afraid of her father before, damn everyone if she’s going to start now. “I’ve had time to practice,” is Percy’s simple response.
Somehow, they both know that isn't the full truth.