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Percy can feel the rage thrumming through his blood. It’s all consuming and he knew that it was irrationally misdirected toward his mother. He can’t help it though, far past the point of return.
Sally has a counter full of blue food and is trying to soothe him after another devastating summer. His head is aching and just wants her to shut up. His brain is smart enough to not utter those particular words though, thank the Gods.
He glares at his mother as she stands in the kitchen and then shifts his gaze just slightly to the sink behind her, staring until he can hear the water, can feel the way the pipes are shifting and buckling under the weight of his command.
The pipes burst and water surges forward, quickly flooding the kitchen and even breaking a few lightbulbs with the strength of the pressurized stream. Percy only comes back to himself when the water knocks his mother off her feet completely but, by then it’s far too late.
He stares in horror at what he’s done, chest heaving with labored breaths. Before he can even attempt to apologize, the ground shakes beneath them and rain pours from the sky, Percy swears he can feel the Hudson swelling and spilling over its banks even from here.
The energy in the apartment shifts suddenly and from that and the look on his mother’s face, Percy doesn’t have to turn around to know who’s standing behind him.
“Perseus.” A voice scolds sternly.
Percy turns reluctantly and meets his father’s gaze. He can’t remember a time when the God of the Seas has ever looked so… Godly.
“Dad, what are… what are you doing here?” Percy asks, forcing himself to not wilt under his father’s disapproving gaze.
“Do you think I am unaware when my children wield their power and manipulate my domain?” Poseidon asks as he waves his hand at the flooded kitchen and returns everything to its previous state.
“That feels like a trick question,” Percy answers after a second of thought.
“Go to your room, Perseus,” Poseidon commands, God of the Sea again who’s accustomed to being obeyed.
“Yeah right, I’m sixteen not six you can’t just-“ Percy starts with a laugh, but then the words dissolve on his tongue as his father snaps his fingers and the boy disappears into a mist that leaves behind the scent of the sea.
“Where did you send him?” Sally asks quietly, gaze still averted as she wrings a kitchen towel between her hands.
“To his room, in Atlantis,” the God answers easily, wishing that his ex lover would look at him for just a second.
“He needs rest and when he’s feeling a bit better, we’ll discuss his, what do humans call it… a tantrum?” He adds with a wry smile.
“Should have seen when I took him to the aquarium for the first and only time, your son was three and absolutely enraged at the thought of animals being held captive,” Sally said with a sad smile.
“Ah, so when he’s misbehaved he is my son,” he teases lightly.
“Be gentle with him, he is still just a child,” Sally begs, turning and finally laying eyes on her son’s father, the man who had once been the love of her life, for the first time in years.
“I will not cause permanent damage but, he needs to learn that using his power against his mother will not be tolerated,” Posidon promised, wanting nothing more than to reach out and comfort the woman but, before he can reach for her thunder and lightning rumble across the sky.
Before Sally can even respond, the Greek God is gone and the only thing left to show he was there at all and not just a figment of her imagination is the slightest hint of salt air.
Percy is seething when he finds himself in a room at the bottom of the ocean. Alright fine, it’s a very nice, very large room in what he assumes to be his father’s palace but, still.
He does not want to be here and is immediately searching for a way out. A quick sweep of the room reveals windows and a set of double doors. The windows seem to be too high for Percy to reach on his own so he searches quickly for a chair or some sort of stool. There doesn’t seem to be either but, there is a set of bookcases that reach the ceiling.
Percy is halfway up the bookshelf when the sound of the doors opening scares him and he loses his hold on one of the shelves. He’s falling and for a second Percy really does think he’s going to die. How embarrassing, not from fighting a monster or a God but from slipping on a bookshelf.
He closes his eyes, not wanting to see the last seconds of his life when he hits the ground. Then he feels strong arms underneath him, bringing him back down to the safety of the bed. Percy opens his eyes again just as he’s being set down on the bed and he’s met with his father’s gaze, stern and Godly once again.
“What were you thinking? You could have been hurt,” Poseidon asked, still holding his son tightly and imagining having to tell Sally that her most precious child had been lost when he was where he was supposed to be the most protected.
“Wanted to leave,” Percy murmured, fighting the urge to sleep.
“You can’t leave, the palace won’t let you… you’re grounded, or at least I think that’s what mortals call it,” Poseidon explained, frowning over the odd human phrase.
“You must rest, your mother says you’ve barely slept since the battle,” the God adds, moving to lay Percy down on the bed.
“I’m not tired,” Percy argues, not caring at the moment how childish he must sound.
“No, well then, perhaps you’d like to discuss your tantrum from earlier?” Poseidon says, trying to sound stern and not break at his son’s somewhat adorable petulance.
Percy pauses and stares at his father, deciding very quickly that he does not want to discuss this afternoon’s events, whatever that even means.
“Well, maybe I am a bit tired now that I think about it, how did you know about it anyway?” The Demigod asks, skeptically.
“I told you, I know when my children manipulate my domain and well, your mother prayed,” Poseidon admits as he picks up a stray blanket and lays it over his son.
“And you respond?” Percy asks curiously.
“Yes, your mother doesn’t pray often anymore so, I figure when she does it’s an emergency,” the Sea God admits.
Percy notes the careful phrasing, she doesn’t pray “often, anymore.” So, had Sally prayed often at one point, and if she had, when had it stopped?
He has vague and flimsy memories of trips to the beach. Of his mother sitting on the shore, letting the water crash against her legs and feet as she talked, sometimes yelled at seemingly nothing. That too had stopped, she met Smelly Gabe and they’d stopped going to the beach as often.
Percy is fighting the losing battle of trying to stay awake. The bed is comfortable and the blanket is perfectly warm with just the barest hint of his mother’s perfume clinging to it.
He hears his father murmur something along the lines of, “Sleep little one,” and Percy would like to go on record and say he would have objected to such sentiment but he's fast asleep before he can do so.
When Percy wakes he’s unsure of how much time has passed but, for the first time in a long time he actually feels rested. He climbs out of bed and tries the doors again, to his surprise and relief this time they open. Taking the now unlocked doors as permission, he leaves the room to finally go explore the Palace.
Percy is walking the gardens, admiring the array of plant life when he hears something behind him. He reaches for Riptide instinctually, closing his hand around the pen that always resides in his pocket before turning to face the sound.
“Oh, Lady Amphitrite, I didn’t realize,” Percy offered as a way of apology, letting his grip on Riptide loosen upon realizing that the intruder is in fact his stepmother, roaming freely in her own palace.
“So, my husband’s favorite son, here for us all to see,” the Goddess offers with a wistful smile.
“I’m not-“ Percy tries to correct, feeling that the statement is an absurdity.
“Trust me child, you are. You are all your father talks of, Perseus this and Perseus that, savior of Atlantis and Olympus,” Amphitrite says, waving away the boy’s protests.
“I didn’t think there was going to be anything you could do to draw his ire but, anything is possible when you throw your mother into the mix,” Amphitrite adds with a sigh.
Percy felt a pang of guilt when his mother was mentioned. He hadn’t meant to lose his temper but, his mom had- no, no he was not going to do that. He was not going to turn into the kind of person who always seemed to have an excuse for every mistake they made.
His mother hadn’t done anything wrong, she was just worried about him. She had just been trying to take care of him.
“In the eyes of my husband, your mother is a Queen among women, mortals and Goddesses alike… and your father will not take the harm of a Queen lightly, Perseus,” his stepmother warned.
Percy opens his mouth to respond but, before he can he feels another presence behind him. His father has joined them.
“Please excuse us my dear, I must speak with my son privately,” Poseidon says as he moves to his son’s side.
“We don’t have to talk, I’m feeling better now and I’ll apologize to Mom, promise,” Percy tries, as a feeling of dread grows in the pit of stomach.
“Be gentle with him, he’s just a child… practically a baby,” Amphitrite warns, placing a gentle hand on her husband’s arm.
“Yes we do and yes you will, I plan on making sure of it,” Poseidon promises, drawing Percy to his side.
One second they are standing in the gardens with Amphitrite and the next they are back in Percy’s personal chambers. His father is sitting on the bed and looks just as upset as he had when he had appeared in the New York apartment.
“Your control of the water is a gift, one I thought you knew to never use against your mother,” Poseidon starts sternly.
“I know you’re angry with me and I know you’re grieving, but that’s no excuse to lash out at your mother,” the God of the Sea adds.
“Don’t,” Percy warns, eyes narrowing and the anger building again when his father dared to mention the Demigods that had been lost in battle.
“You’ve never cared when I used my powers before,” he snaps, not realizing what a big mistake that was until the words had left his mouth.
If they weren’t already under the sea Percy was sure just from the look his father was giving him that he would have caused another earthquake to hit New York.
“Come here Perseus,” Poseidon demands, patting the empty space next to him on the bed.
Percy stares at his father uneasily. Everything in him was screaming to get as far away as possible, self-preservation instincts kicking in.
“Perseus. Now,” the God of the Sea orders.
Percy swallows thickly and heavily considers his choices. He could try to get away but his father would find him eventually… Greek God and all.
He feels his feet moving toward the bed without his permission. Don’t his stupid feet know there is some sort of danger in front of them? See, this is why he has Annabeth, she would know exactly the kind of danger he was in and figure out an exit strategy or ten. Percy idly wonders if praying to Annabeth would work, she’s pretty damn close to a Goddess.
When he gets close enough to the bed, Percy feels a hand close around his wrist and he glances up at Poseidon in confusion. Before he can even find words to protest there is a gentle tug and he finds himself upended over his father’s lap.
“What are you doing- Dad,” Percy protests, immediately confused by the position and trying to squirm out of it.
“Have you ever been spanked before, Perseus?” Poseidon questions, wrapping a strong arm around his son’s middle to steady him.
Percy pauses at the absurdity of the question. “What, no I… Dad, Ow stop it!” he protests as the first stinging swat hits the seat of his sweatpants.
He attempts to struggle against the hold he’s in but it's akin to being encased in iron or reinforced steel bindings. Percy knows it’s a pointless fight but, damnit if he doesn’t try anyway. He’s never surrendered easily before, why start now.
“I am an immortal being, I can wait out an eternity if need be, do not make this more difficult than it has to be, little one,” Poseidon cautions.
The last thing he wants is to hurt his precious son but, that behavior towards Sally was the definition of unacceptable and his albeit limited, perhaps outdated, research on mortal beings deems what’s about to happen as a reasonable response.
With a sigh of resignation, Poseidon steels himself as he reaches and tugs down his son’s sleep pants and boxers in one swift motion. He needs to see what he is doing after all and even with the most control over his strength, he doesn’t want to leave the boy with any lasting harm.
There’s no need to rehash the situation, at least not when the boy is behaving so stubbornly and won’t even hear what he has to say. So, the immortal man sets to work, so to speak. He aims for a rosy hue to begin with, a nice base layer you might say.
Percy of course remains stoic, unwilling to give in and Poseidon might be proud of that if the concern for his child didn’t weigh so heavily. It takes longer than he would have liked but, finally the first of the cracks in the facade begin to show.
“Ow, Dad stop it!” Percy protests finally as the burn in his backside begins to build at an un-relenting pace.
“I get it, okay, it won’t happen again,” Percy promises again, kicking his feet as he tries to struggle his way out of the strong hold surrounding him.
“Oh I know it won’t,” Poseidon says, pausing the punishment for a moment as he picks up a hairbrush and tests the heft of it.
“I thought it went without saying that saying that using your control over my domain against a defenseless woman, not to mention your mother was unacceptable but, apparently I was wrong,” he lectured, bringing the brush for the first of many swats.
Percy almost jumped out of his skin, letting out a string of curse words in Ancient Greek. The bite of whatever this implement is, is about ten times worse than just his father’s hand.
Poseidon has to stop himself from laughing in amusement, this must be how mortals feel when a baby swears for the first time. Instead, he tips his son forward on his lap and delivers a quick flurry of swats with the brush to his sit spots.
“Oww, Dad enough!” Percy protests, voice becoming thick with tears.
“I’m afraid you’re in no position to negotiate, little one,” Poseidon answers regretfully as he lays down another circuit of smacks with the brush.
“Daddy, please… they’re all dead,” Percy cries out as his resolve finally cracks. The truth, the root of the problem, finally forced to the surface.
Poseidon immediately vanishes the brush away and fixes his son’s clothing before gathering the boy in his arms.
“Shh, my little one, I’ve got you,” he promises, relishing in the feeling of having his youngest, most precious, child cling to him.
“None of this is your fault, it was a prophecy spoken decades before you even existed, there was nothing you could have done,” the God of the Sea promises sternly.
Between waves of grief, Poseidon somehow manages to get the child to choke down a sleeping tonic. One that a full staff of healers swore would work. He waits, holding his son close as the boy’s frame rattles with sobs, the rawest human emotion. Percy’s words ring in his mind, clear as a bell and as cutting as a knife, “they’re all dead.” Eventually the sobs taper off and Poesidon can feel as his son collapses into him, the boy is finally asleep.
When they arrive back in Sally’s apartment, the lights are off except for the one in the kitchen. He moves through the home, finding his son’s room easily.
Once the boy is tucked safely into bed, the God of the Seas sits beside his son for a moment, needing to make sure that the tonic the healers prescribed will work. Percy is asleep and he will stay asleep, no nightmares will plague him tonight.
When he finally turns to leave, Sally is standing in the doorway as if she’s unsure if she should enter. It’s only now, without the chaos of their last encounter as a distraction that he realizes something is different. Sally is somehow more beautiful than ever and she seems to be encased in some sort of golden glow, a powerful energy.
He then sees that she seems to be eating a bag of blue taffy which is rolled in a heaping amount of sea salt. Sally hasn’t eaten that since she was… oh.
“Percy will sleep, for a day or more,” Poseidon assures as he looks at her.
“Does he know?” He asks, after they stand in silence for a moment longer.
“No, there hasn’t been time and either way it’s only twelve weeks, I don’t want to get his hopes up,” Sally says quietly, popping another piece of taffy in her mouth as she debates why on earth she’s even entertaining this conversation.
Poseidon hesitates and then steps forward and places a hand gently on her stomach. This child is strong and she’ll be a force to be reckoned with. He gives her a blessing, that she will be safe in his realms as long as she lives. The same blessings that her mother and brother have.
“You’re sure he’s alright?” Sally asks as she settles herself on the edge of Percy’s bed.
“Yes my dear, he’s perfectly fine there’s no need to worry,” he attempts to assure her gently.
“I’m not worried, I just… know from personal experience how hard your hand is,” Sally says, barely suppressing a yawn.