Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“It doesn’t make sense for us to keep doing this. You have Amphitrite and Triton now, and your duties in the sea. I am needed here on Olympus, with your brother.”

   “Of course. I trust we will be remaining civil?”

   “Poseidon. We are both over a thousand years old. I sincerely hope that we are capable of being friends without the promise of sex.”

   “Fair point.”

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   “Zeus?”

   “Yes, my wife?”

   “There’s something I would like to tell you.”

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   “Your wife shall bear a daughter.”

   “A daughter wiser than both her parents.”

   “Your wife would bear you a son, to be the next King of Olympus.”

   “I see. And there is no way to change this?”

   “It shall be as we said.”

   “… very well.”

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   “Metis? Would you like to play a game?”

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   “Your Majesty? I cannot find the Queen.”

   “Metis will not be returning to Olympus. I will not be discussing this further.”

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   “Zeus? Are you alright?”

   “I am fine. Merely a headache.”

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   “Prometheus. Get your hammer.”

Chapter Text

Poseidon was happy.

   Not terribly so, he had to interact with his younger brother far too often for that, but at the very least satisfied. He was finally settling into his role as King of the Sea, and Triton was finally done with what Amphitrite had dubbed his “rebellious phase”, and he wasn’t in anyone’s stomach, which was always nice.

   Of course, this was all exemplified by his brother’s screams serving as a backing track to his latest visit to Olympus. But Hera was liable to set her peacocks on him if he admitted that, so he would have to resign himself to going to the throne room and watching Lord Thunderpants suffer.

   No, Poseidon did not care if he was the “Saviour of Olympus”, or whatever title he claimed. Metis did half the work anyway. Probably why she left him.

   So off to the throne room he went, to be greeted by a pissed off Hera, Prometheus with his blood-stained hammer looking like he’d rather have his innards ripped out, Zeus with his skull smashed open, and -

   Oh.

   That was a child.

   A child just came out of Zeus’s head.

   “What the fuck,” Poseidon said, very calmly considering the situation. If you asked him at least. Not that anyone did.

   Looking again, he could see that it - or probably she - wasn’t really a child, but she wasn’t an adult either. She looked to be in that awkward stretch of a hundred years or so that would place her as a teenager if she weren’t immortal. Overall, she didn’t really look like Zeus, despite him apparently giving birth to her: the blood-red hair hidden beneath Zeus’s ichor was far different from his cloudy white, more like Metis’s if anyone’s; she had somewhat similar golden brown wings, but they were still closer to that of an owl - a fishing owl perhaps - than that of an eagle; and her grey eyes were less like the clouds of a storm and more like the turbulent sea beneath it. Gods didn’t always have much in the way of family resemblance, but even then - wait.

   Like the sea.

   How long after they ended things did Metis go missing?

   Trying to ignore that realisation - he was probably mistaken, she would have told him - Poseidon refocused himself on the shouting match he had apparently started by breaking the silence.

   “I do not care whether she is yours, Zeus! She is not ours. I want her gone!” Hera was yelling at Zeus, ignoring the rapidly retreating Prometheus and the presence of the mentioned child. Teenager. Whatever.

   That, clearly, was not what Zeus wanted to hear. “I suggest,” he rumbled, lightning crackling off his arm, close enough to the girl for her grey eyes to flash white, “that you watch your tone, woman.” Such a dramatic pair as always. The hormones probably didn’t help, given Zeus’s freshly finished pregnancy and the rumours about Hera’s own. He really didn’t care about their newest lover’s spat. But…

   He couldn’t prove anything about her. Not with her just having come out of Zeus’s skull. But he knew she was Metis’s daughter, and he wasn’t sure Zeus was the father. Which left very few options. If Hera already wanted her gone, and Zeus seemed to only be concerned with his pride?

   “I’ll take her.”

   Suddenly three pairs of eyes were on him - Prometheus must have successfully escaped. Smart man. Smarter than Poseidon, apparently.

   “Assuming neither of you wish for her to be here,” he continued, “I see no reason I could not have her in Atlantis.” He did not drop Zeus’s gaze. Please. You are not a fool. This does not need to hurt your precious little ego.

   His brother glanced between Poseidon and the child a few more times, slowly putting the pieces together. “Fine,” he said, settling back on to his throne. “Take her with you.”

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   It was loud. And bright.

   “This place cannot sustain us both for any longer. You must make him let you out.”

   Less loud than it was when the eagle-winged man and the peacock-winged woman were arguing. More bright than it was before the man with scales led her out under the ball of light.

   “Find your father. Do whatever it takes to be under his protection.”

   The fish man - who, upon looking again, also had hooves - finally pulled her away from the light under a canopy of… leaves? Green and almost feather-like. Just how mother described them. Leaves. He pulled a branch over the sky-glow, slightly lessening its glare, and turned back to her with a grim smile.

   “Alright. I’m sorry I had to drag you out here, I know the sun is hard to get used to, but it’s safer out here than it is in there. The sea is darker and quieter, I’d say more like what you’re used to but my specialty is the stomach, so I’m not entirely sure what it’s like inside Zeus’s brain. Probably more like the underworld than Atlantis. Regardless. We’ll get you down there - I doubt you’ve had the chance to swim, but I can carry you - we’ll talk to Amphitrite, and she’ll know what to do. She’ll judge me, but she usually does, so that’s fine.”

   Athena knew what about half of that meant. Step by step. Take what you know, use it to learn what you don’t. The sun. What was she bothered by that fish-man wasn’t? The light in the sky. The sea apparently isn’t plagued by it. She didn’t know what the sea was either. Atlantis was somewhere in it. Atlantis was not the underworld, but it contained Amphitrite. Amphitrite was also an unknown, but wasn’t an unknown to the god with his seafoam eyes still upon her. The man seemed trustworthy. She didn’t know how she could tell if he wasn’t.

   The sun was beginning to slip between the leaves again. She could feel it on her skin.

   She missed the dark and quiet.

   She missed her mother.

   “Too much?” Athena was startled out of her thoughts by fish-man beginning to speak again. He smiled at her softly. “Let’s try that again, shall we? Do you know who I am?”

   She shook her head, not trusting her voice to hold after its disuse during the day’s events.

   “My name is Poseidon. I am the god of seas, and earthquakes, and more than you need to know right now,” Athena was actually rather curious, but chose to let it go. “I am who you will be staying with until you decide you do not wish to.”

   “Find your father. Do whatever it takes to be under his protection.”

   This was wrong. She was meant to find her-

   “Assuming I am not mistaken, I am your father.”

   Oh.

   Fish-man Poseidon Her father offered her a hand. “Let’s get you home.”

   Athena gazed at the arm before her, covered with the same markings that sprinkled her own, though in his seafoam green rather than her stormy blue, and slowly placed her hand in his. Voice slightly hoarse, she replied: “Alright.”