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The Throne Room on Mount Olympus was heavy with the aftermath of Zeus’ stormy departure. The gods’ thrones sat in perfect alignment, each gleaming with the power of their domains.
Lightning still crackled in the air, the remnants of Zeus’ thunderbolt reverberating through the marble floors.
Percy stood near the center of the room, looking painfully young. Zeus had vanished in a violent burst of thunder, leaving the room filled with an eerie silence.
Poseidon, standing a few feet away, watched his son, trying to gauge his emotions. The tension was thick between them—Percy’s face was set in a hard mask, his eyes narrow with frustration. Poseidon couldn’t blame him. It had been a chaotic, unfair turn of events. But he didn’t know how to bridge the distance that had grown between them.
Trying to ease the tension, Poseidon attempted a joke, his voice warm, though tinged with nerves.
“Well,” Poseidon began, offering a faint smile, “at least we don’t have to worry about Zeus coming back for a second round. He certainly knows how to make an exit. Could’ve taken a page out of my book, though—no need to announce you’re leaving with a whole storm.”
Percy didn’t even flinch. His eyes were still on the ground. There was no humour in his face, no flicker of recognition that his father had just made an attempt to lighten the mood. His voice, when he finally spoke, was sharp and cold.
“Yeah, great joke, Dad. You should be a stand-up comedian,” Percy muttered, his words cutting through the air like a knife.
Poseidon’s smile faltered. He had been hoping that his attempt at levity would break through the anger and pain he saw in his son’s eyes, but it only seemed to make things worse. Percy’s bitterness hung in the air like a storm cloud, heavier than any thunder Poseidon could summon.
“I know things aren’t exactly ideal right now,” Poseidon tried again, stepping closer, though he kept a respectful distance. “But…”
“‘Ideal’?” Percy interrupted, spinning on his heel to face him, his voice rising in frustration. “You think this is ‘ideal’? You think me being framed for something I didn’t do and standing here while the gods point fingers at me is ‘ideal’? Are you serious?”
Poseidon’s heart sank as the hurt in Percy’s voice hit him like a wave. He tried to understand, tried to find the right words, but they stuck in his throat. He couldn’t argue with Percy’s pain. He knew it was unjust, that Percy had been wronged, and Poseidon’s helplessness stung worse than any punishment. His son’s gaze was full of resentment, and it was all directed at him.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” Poseidon said, his voice quieter now, the humor gone. He had always believed that humor was a bridge between people, but here, it only seemed to widen the gap. “I just wanted to… I wanted to make you smile, even if it was for just a second. I know you’re hurting, and I just… wanted to try and make it better.”
Percy’s jaw clenched, his fists tightening at his sides. He was no longer interested in trying to mask his anger.
“Don’t do that,” Percy spat, his voice breaking. “Don’t act like you’re trying to make it better with jokes. You weren’t there when I needed you. When mom needed you. You should’ve been there, Dad. That’s what fathers do,” his voice broke. “And now you’re just standing there trying to make light of everything. You think this is a joke, Dad?”
The words hit Poseidon harder than he expected. He had thought Percy might just be angry at the gods, but this—this was something deeper. His son wasn’t just angry at the situation. He was angry at him. At Poseidon. He had failed Percy, and no joke could fix that.
“I… I didn’t mean to make light of anything, Percy,” Poseidon said softly, his voice filled with regret. “But you have to understand—I wanted to be there for you. I wanted to help you. I just… couldn’t. I couldn’t break the ancient laws. I couldn’t risk everything, not just for me, but for you. If I had done anything, it would have put you in even more danger. I couldn’t let that happen.”
Percy’s gaze narrowed, disbelief flashing across his face.
“The ancient laws. Yeah, I’ve heard that one before.” he spat bitterly. “The laws that say you’re not supposed to have kids. Yet here I am, standing in front of you, the son you weren’t supposed to have. You broke the Oath once, right? You defied the laws to have me. So why didn’t you just break another one? Why didn’t you help me when I needed you the most?
Poseidon flinched at the words. He had expected this, but hearing it from Percy, hearing the raw pain and anger in his voice, made the reality of the situation even more crushing. His son had every right to be angry.
“It’s not that simple,” Poseidon began, his voice quieter now, full of sorrow. “You think the gods are all-powerful, but we are bound by laws. We can’t just act however we want, not without consequences. When I broke the Oath to have you, it was because I loved your mother, because I wanted you in this world. But the Council…they’re vengeful, Percy. They wouldn’t have hesitated to punish you for my defiance. The consequences of breaking the laws again… would have been catastrophic. Not just for me, but for you, too. I couldn’t risk it. I couldn’t risk losing you.”
Percy’s eyes burned, a mix of fury and confusion flashing in them. “So, you just watched me suffer, huh? You let me deal with everything alone, because the ‘rules’ were more important than me?”
“I watched you from afar,” Poseidon’s voice cracked, the weight of the words pressing down on him. “I never stopped caring about you, Percy. But I had to stay away. The gods—if I had acted out of turn, if I had broken the rules to help you—they would’ve punished you, they would’ve made you pay for my mistakes. I couldn’t let that happen. I couldn’t let you be caught in the middle of the gods’ wrath.”
Percy’s chest tightened, a lump forming in his throat as the anger started to shift into something deeper—something more painful. The truth was too much to handle. He had spent years wondering why his father wasn’t there for him, why Poseidon never stepped in when Gabe abuse— hurted him and his mother, when his mother had to work day and night to survive, why he had been left to face the gods alone.
And now he understood. At least partially— why. But that didn’t make the pain go away.
“I don’t know if I can forgive you,” Percy whispered, his voice breaking. “I really don’t.”
Poseidon stepped closer, his heart aching for his son. “I don’t expect you to forgive me, Percy. I don’t think I even deserve it,” he said truthfully. “But I’m asking for a chance. A chance to show you that I do care. That I’ve always cared.”
The sea god stepped closer to his beloved son, his eyes gentle and inviting. “I know it’s too late for a lot of things, but if you’ll let me, I want to be a part of your life, from here on out.”
Percy stood still, the tension in his body slowly beginning to ease as he absorbed his father’s words. But the anger was still there, buried deep, not easily forgotten.
Poseidon didn’t expect things to be fixed in a moment. He didn’t expect his son to forgive him. But he wanted to be there. He wanted to prove that despite everything—despite the rules that bound them, despite the mistakes and the years of silence—he was still here. Still his father. And he would be here for as long as Percy would let him.
The silence between them stretched on, thick with unspoken words, as Percy struggled with the weight of his feelings, torn between the father he had always wanted and the one who had failed him in ways he couldn’t yet forgive.
Percy stayed silent, his eyes fixed on the ground as if the weight of the world was pressing down on his shoulders. Poseidon stood still, his gaze lingering on his son, though he wished he could look away. He watched Percy, truly looked at him for the first time in so long, and the sight shattered his heart.
Percy was so young. Too young. His cheeks still held the soft, rounded remnants of baby fat, a stark reminder that he was just a boy, no matter how much the gods had made him grow up too fast. His sea-green eyes, the same as Poseidon’s, were clouded with sorrow far too heavy for someone who should’ve been laughing and running through waves, not carrying the burden of a world that had abandoned him. Those eyes—his eyes—were filled with a grief that twisted Poseidon’s heart in ways words could never express.
The god felt the crushing weight of guilt settle in his chest. He had failed Percy in every way imaginable. He had watched from the shadows, bound by the ancient laws that tied his hands, and now his son stood before him—broken, angry, and full of pain. Poseidon had been too late to protect him, too late to show him love, too late to be the father Percy deserved.
Fates… Poseidon thought, his heart aching. I truly failed as a father, haven’t I?
His gaze softened, but it did little to ease the suffocating regret inside him. Percy was only twelve. Twelve. And yet he had been forced to face monsters, gods, betrayal—things no child should ever experience. Poseidon’s failure weighed heavily on him, and for the first time in centuries, he felt utterly powerless. He had broken every promise he had ever made, not with words, but with his absence.
Percy stood there for a long moment, the silence between them stretching, filled with the weight of everything that had been said, and everything that had been left unspoken.
His gaze flickered up to Poseidon, hesitant but somehow hopeful, as if he had spent so long feeling lost and angry that the possibility of something better felt both terrifying and freeing. His lips parted, and his voice was quiet, but it carried the tremble of something raw and genuine and so painfully young.
“I… I want to forgive you, Dad,” Percy whispered softly, his words heavy with the mix of pain and longing he had buried for so long. “I don’t know if I can forget everything, but I want to try. I just… I need you to be here. Really be here, not just… a god watching from afar.”
Poseidon’s heart swelled with a combination of relief and hope. He could hear the vulnerability in Percy’s voice, the quiet desperation for a connection he had never truly had. Without another word, he stepped forward, pulling Percy into his arms. And in that moment, as their embrace closed the distance between them, it felt as if the world paused—just for a second—allowing them to finally heal.
Percy stiffened at first, unsure of what this moment meant, but then something in him seemed to shift. He relaxed, leaning into the warmth of his father’s embrace, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he felt safe. He felt seen.
In that hug, the weight that had burdened Percy for so long seemed to lift, and for that moment, he was no longer an angry and betrayed boy. He was just a twelve-year-old again, with the whole world ahead of him, glowing with the kind of wonder and hope that only a child could hold.
Poseidon held him tighter, relishing in the warm feeling of his precious son in his arms. He had a chance. A real chance to be the father Percy needed. And, somehow, against all odds, Percy wanted to let him in.
As they pulled away, Percy’s eyes sparkled with tears, a youthful happiness in them that Poseidon hadn’t seen in years—too long, too many years of pain and regret. But now, here it was. The youth, the hope, the future. Percy was still just a boy. And that boy—his beautiful son—was finally beginning to heal.
“I’m here, my son,” Poseidon whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m here. Always.”
Percy gave him a small, unsure smile, but it was real—a smile that spoke of beginnings, of second chances, of a father and son finding their way back to each other, despite everything. And for the first time, the future didn’t seem so daunting.