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Oceanus had laid waste to his palace and while rebuilding hadn’t been difficult, it was a task he found little joy in. His forces took priority over the details regarding rooms and luxuries he had lived with for millennia. No, Poseidon could not say he found joy in discussing views or treasures displayed.
Those moments belonged to his wife. Amphitrite was a formidable goddess in her own right, but through the centuries and the serenity of peace she had found her talents occupied elsewhere. She ran her rebuilding efforts with the ease of any general. She commanded her sisters to run councils on her behalf to ensure every detail she cared for met expectations.
It wasn’t the first time they moved their palace and it wouldn’t be the last. But this time around his wife gifted him something he had never expected. She had chambers built for Poseidon’s only mortal son, Percy Jackson. She never harboured the same vitriol Hera did when it came to her husband’s demigod children but she also had no tendency to grant them her favor, so it had surprised him.
The room was simple, fitting for a son of the Sea god, even if it paled in comparison to those of their godly children. But it was the gesture that moved him. She was welcoming the boy into his - their domain. Poseidon knew Amphitrite better than any other being and she knew him just as well. They both knew he had found the boy endearing.
Well, endearing may have been the word when they first met. A word he had easily granted his spitfire, steadfast, sturdy, brave and agonizingly loyal boy.
Now, the word paled in comparison to the rooted longing Poseidon felt for the mortal boy. The protectiveness that threatened to make him raze Olympus itself to keep him safe. The bitter agony of knowing he had such an exposed vulnerability in the boy. The tranquility he felt as he saw the boy smile. The heaviness he carried when he saw the wounds the sea would never fully fade on the boy.
Endearment was long past. He loved the boy.
He wanted to hate that.
He had tried to muster a level of indifference soon after Kronos was defeated. He hid in tasks, like rebuilding his palace. But even there the boy was, with whispers in the water every time he went into the lake at camp. The distance had not erased the affection, regardless of how much Poseidon had wished for it.
Because, when true silence fell, it had taken Zeus himself to stop him. It took Olympus locking down to keep him away. Even then, he had called upon his wife, and his children, for their assistance to locate the boy. It was only when Zeus explicitly forbade and threatened to end Sally Jackson that Poseidon saw reason through his anger.
His son was loyal, but Poseidon made no mistake in knowing the boy’s first loyalty lay with his mother. Zeus knew it too. All of Olympus had come to know the tale of the forbidden child who braved a deal with Hades and killed a minotaur for his mortal mother. Poseidon knew her well, enough to know why she evoked that level of loyalty. Sally Jackson was his son’s weakness, which meant she was also Poseidon’s.
So, when his son disappeared, he had been forced to allow it. Then Neptune fought him for control and Neptune’s loyalty to Poseidon’s children was a shadow in comparison. He’d been forced to sit back while his son saved them, once again, falling to the pits of Tartarous as a result.
Waking to the knowledge left him feeling something he hardly ever allowed. Shame.
Even when the boy stood amongst them all, Poseidon had found it hard to look at him. The deep need to embrace him was foreign.
He knew well what pleasures physical contact with mortals had. He knew well what amorous love felt like, another thing Sally Jackson had invoked in him. But he had never quite felt such a paternal feeling. Such a devoted love. It was an affliction he was unaccustomed to.
His godly children were born divine, their aging far from mortal--even at their youngest, they had sound minds and a security that didn’t depend on him. And his other demigod children - well, they were fine warriors. Great men. Great women. He was fond of several. He’d been endeared to a few. Mourned a couple. Yet, never had he favored one as deeply as he did Percy. Never had he craved to have the boy close. Never had he ached to keep him forever.
Poseidon had told himself once that making Percy Jackson a god would’ve eased him of the affliction he had. Centuries eased affections afterall. They brewed rivalries, distaste, shifting loyalties, wars, and everything their family was accustomed to. So, it made rational sense to grant the boy immortality. But then the boy had proven himself unique once more and had rebuffed them.
Now Poseidon was damned to endure the love he had for the boy. Damned to know the boy would age and die. That he would lose him. All while his affection for the boy eroded away his attempts at distancing himself.
So, Poseidon was grateful for the chambers. For the grace his wife granted him as he was forced to endure the fleeting years. Percy had visited once but the boy had been hesitant which only granted him a couple uninterrupted hours.
He was a deity that was not used to begging for attention. He had no way of going about searching for it. But he tried. Poseidon knew which beaches or rivers the boy enjoyed, so he made the conscious intention to listen when the currents shifted.
And that day, they were shifting. Slowly. Softly. He wasn’t swimming. He was teetering on the edge. Poseidon had learned of those days Percy either needed to be alone or needed a distraction. The boy had looked shaken since Tartarus, but only in those moments, and only when he thought himself alone. He should’ve left him to it, but he watched, ensuring his safety while he worked through what he needed to.
But as his consciousness formed in the waves far enough to be invisible to the boy, he felt the joy in the water.
This visit was different. He wasn’t swimming; he was still on the edge, playing with the currents as he sat. But he was smiling.
In his lap was a child. A baby.
For a moment Poseidon felt himself tense. Felt waves recede back in the coast of Florida. He couldn’t have missed it, could he?
No.
Mortal time was a blasted illusion he hated. Long before, Poseidon had found little reason to make an effort to care for them. Decades, years, months, weeks, hours all felt the same. Then Percy had been born and he had tried to take note of the years. A prophecy loomed over them after all. But, even then, years easily slipped by.
However, since Gaea, Poseidon had tried to be more aware. Determined not to squander the years they would have. But he still easily lost weeks when he meant it to be hours.
Percy was playing with the sand while making the current run towards the babe’s foot, but never quite reaching it. The child giggled loudly in his arms, and Percy’s hair waved in the wind from how he laughed as well.
There was an unbridled joy in his son that ached at Poseidon. Had he missed so much?
The boy still looked the same. Albeit cheeks fuller than when he last saw him, which was good since he was far too thin after Tartarus. Yet, there were no wrinkles marking his skin and his hair was still dark. It couldn’t have been that long.
He moved out of the water before he could contemplate it further. It was a second later that he was sitting next to Percy and his child.
Percy jumped the moment he saw. His instincts were quick; in a second he had pulled out Riptide, still in pen form, and had shifted the unsuspecting child away. If the boy hadn’t realized who it was, Poseidon had no doubt he would’ve been up and fully armed within the following second. But Percy Jackson was quick.
“Dad.” The relief was notable. The hand gripping his pen eased, but the one holding the child didn’t.
“Perceus.”
“What are you doing here?” He looked around, still alert, but only a few other patrons of the beach surrounded them. Poseidon ensured the mist would obscure them from any prying eyes or ears.
“Was just in the area.” More like in the Indian Ocean meeting with Mazu, the Chinese goddess, regarding currents, but she could deal with the small portion of his consciousness left behind.
“Is everything okay?” Every moment eased him further, but long gone was the carefree boy from before.
“Of course. I felt your powers and wanted to ensure you were safe.”
“Oh, sorry. I was just playing.” He ducked his head, it made him look younger.
“Do not apologize.” He dismissed but he couldn’t look at Percy for too long, the child in his grasp was still waving a hand, hitting the sand. Poseidon tried to feel for the child. He had a way of reaching his legacies but he could feel nothing.
As if noticing Poesidon’s confusion at the child, Percy perked up. “Oh yeah - you probably haven’t met. Dad, this is Estelle. Estelle, say ‘hi’, this is my daddy.”
Percy had never called him ‘daddy’. He was informal enough to call him ‘dad’ instead of the traditional ‘father’ but he had never used the mortal endearment on him as such. It made Poesdion feel odd; warm and oddly happy.
But Percy paid him no mind, the word was not meant for him, the boy was smiling at the child as he spoke, as if every word was meant to register to the babe. Up close Poseidon could see the child’s pudgy face better. She was wearing a hat that matched her rose colored shirt. She was a pretty child. She had a few brown curls peaking from under the hat and she had big blue eyes that were familiar but different from those of the boy holding her.
“I was unaware you had fathered a child.” Poseidon whispered, ensuring his voice was soft. He was hardly one to reprimand anyone for fathering children. But he was a bit sad at the thought of Percy shouldering that responsibility so soon.
Especially if the child belonged to Athena’s girl. Ugh. The thought sent waves crashing onto the Australian coast. Surely, he would’ve heard of that?
“What? No. I didn’t!” Percy looked startled.
Then there was embarrassment, the one Poseidon associated with his innocent son. Any of his other sons would’ve boasted of their conquests, fathered a dozen babes, but he could hardly recall any who would’ve shied away from those topics, or who would’ve so serenely played on the shore with a daughter. Even his own daughters were never shy with such things.
“She is not yours?”
“No!” Percy was bright red, which caused Poseidon to laugh. The fates had to be laughing too, his favorite son yet the boy was so unlike him.
“She’s my sister.” He confessed a bit quieter, his eyes bordering on a familiar line.
“Sister?”
He was sure he had not fathered another mortal child. Poseidon thought back to all his adventures outside of the sea, and past Olympus and could not recall any moment in which he strayed. Certainly not in such a recent time. The babe was young, she was holding her head up, but her lack of control in everything else was abysmal.
“Sally’s?” The name sounded raw in his throat. Sally Jackson, the woman worthy of forgoing his vows. He spoke to her again when Percy turned fifteen. She had still been as beautiful as she was when they first met. The years had been kind to her. Poseidon hated to admit it, but he had once considered pursuing her again.
In his pathetic attempts of ridding himself of the affection he felt for their son, he had contemplated the idea of fathering another child with her. One he would have taken, hidden away far from Olympus, as he sometimes wished he had done with Percy. But reality was quick and jarring; another demigod would mean the tentative peace he had forged with his brothers would collapse. Percy would be in danger and Poseidon could never allow that. So, his plan had ended as quickly as it had occurred to him.
“Yeah, her and my st- Paul had this little one.”
Poseidon knew where those words were headed. Percy had used them offhandedly before, stepfather. He often spoke of the man lovingly, and it bothered Poseidon, but it was also something he was forced to allow. Percy was not a child he could attempt to control, not if he wanted him around. He was too much like the sea itself.
So, Percy was allowed to form the family he wanted. From the spawns of his siblings and nephews, to his romance with Athena’s brat, to the man Sally married and now to the little mortal girl that made him smile.
Poseidon could share him with them if he had to. So long as he was happy. And it looked like he was.
“She has your mother’s eyes.”
“She does! She gives us this look, and she has us all wrapped around her little finger.” He laughed. He tickled the girl a bit as he spoke to her softer. “Don’t you, Estelle? You have mommy, daddy, and Percy at your command.”
“You care for her.” It wasn't a question. Not the way he gazed at her.
“I love her.” He defended, his eyes flying back up to meet his own.
Poseidon admired the way he spoke it, freely, without a bitter taste of doom attached to such an affliction.
Poseidon reached for the child’s hand slowly. His son made no movement to distance the child, nor did he tense but his eyes watched closely. But where Percy saw reservation in everything in the world since Tartarus, the child saw nothing but the love she had been given. She giggled and gripped his finger with her whole hand.
He awarded her a smile which made her giggle more. The current around them came closer, never touching them, but it delivered a seashell just out of reach of her other hand. It made her kick her legs and gurgle more noises of appreciation. She was clearly tracking everything around her.
Sally Jackson was a remarkable woman, and he could see her clearly in the joyful child. From the tint of her hair to the shape of her nose, and more prominently in her eyes. Just as Poseidon could see Sally in Percy, despite him bearing little physical resemblance to her. Like in that moment where he held the child safe, providing her the world, or the way he slightly cocked his head to the side when he smiled, just as his mother did.
“Are you still planning to attend New Rome?” Poseidon asked. He would be paying Zeus back for the next half a century for having allowed it. But despite that, even if Percy said no, he wouldn’t fault him for it.
“I am. I got the recommendation letters.”
“Will your mother and the child be moving as well?” Poseidon asked. He had not expected it, but perhaps Sally would leave New York, despite her love for the place, if it meant being close to her son.
“No, they'll stay here. I’ll visit all the time, and I can Iris message them whenever.” He smiled, but there was a longing in his eyes that Poseidon could relate to.
It would be sufficient, because it had to be. But it would never truly be enough. Not when children aged so rapidly.
Percy once must’ve been the size of the child in his arms. Had he too gurgled and laughed at the whimsy of the ocean and the gifts in the sand?
Poseidon wished he could recall the first time the boy ventured into the water. But he couldn’t. He had forced himself to be far apart. Had forced himself to only listen to Sally’s prayers in fire, knowing it would be severe enough to warrant his attention. Never the sweet moments.
He saw the boy when he was older than the girl, he had been waddling in the waves. Far away. Sally had brought Percy to meet him, and Poseidon had never appeared to them. But he had watched. He had watched her chase the boy down the shore. Watched her sing him to sleep while her feet were in the water. But he left before he could catch the attention of anyone.
And now he sat on a similar shore with that little boy all grown up.
“You’re a good brother.”
Percy raised an eyebrow but straightened his shoulders under the praise.
“I’ve had some practice.”
It took Poseidon a beat longer than it should have. His first thoughts drifted to Triton and his daughters, none of which had a particularly close relationship with Percy. Then, he recalled his other young son, Tyson. Poseidon cared for the boy, he was young, idealistic and a great warrior. But Tyson, like his many other cyclops children, tended to exist in a different space of his consciousness, a background part.
It was something he would never admit to. Not to Amphitrite, who had grown attached to the boy. And certainly not to Percy, who had deemed the boy his brother and cared for him as such. No. Poseidon would grant Tyson anything he wanted, in honor of his brother.
“Have you had a chance to see Tyson?”
“Yeah! He actually visited a couple months ago, and came to give mom and Estelle a gift. He made her crib.”
Like mother, like children, it seemed. All three Jacksons seemed to garner love from all parts of the sea.
“I’m glad to hear it.” He smiled as he continued to watch the little girl smile in her attempts to reach the water.
Poseidon wished the silence was peaceful, that there weren't currents of things unsaid. That he couldn’t see the hesitation in the boy’s demeanor. He wished he wasn’t a selfish being and would’ve left him to his happiness instead of wanting the moments together to last forever.
“Is everything okay?” Percy’s voice was soft, for a second, Poseidon wondered if he was asking the child but she was happy to just watch the ocean.
“Of course.” He responded but the words didn’t ease his son. Percy’s tension lingered as he watched him back, trying to make sense of the confirmation.
The boy’s eyes were a reflection of his own. It was a trait most of his mortal children shared, some of his other children did as well. Like Triton. His eldest son, his named heir.
Triton looked most like him. In every form he took they resembled one another. There were edges of his heir that for millennia had been shaped by his mother’s influence. But, no one dared to say such things. No. Triton was Poseidon’s child. His very image. His temperamental moods. His devotion.
Poseidon had had little love for the young god when Amphitrite presented him. How could he? Poseidon knew little of fatherhood, having been forced to grow up, captive, in his own father’s stomach.
Kronos had killed his father and taken his throne. And Zeus had done the same to their father. Poseidon was not prideful enough to not fret the power his children, his sons, could wield. But, he refused to fall in that specific family curse. So, he had named his first son his heir and gave him enough control and leeway to keep him content but never enough to risk his own position. He cared for Triton, he even favored him over his other children, more often than not.
But Poseidon knew he was far from the most caring father. Triton would likely be the first to present a curated list of grievances, if asked. But he tried. He tried more than his siblings often did. Sure, most of the time it wasn’t out of affection but rather pride for his own name and power, but he tried and that was enough.
Until Perseus. Until it felt futile, suffocating, and irrational all at once. When he wanted more but had no way of reasonably obtaining it.
Percy shifted the girl in his arms, who had quieted down, pulling Poseidon’s gaze back towards his son. He was so tender as he looked down on her. But his words were a resigned sigh only possibly meant for him. “Is there a quest or something?”
It was not where he assumed his son’s mind had wandered. “A quest?”
“Yeah. Is that what you’re trying to tell me?” Percy looked at him once more, those seagreen eyes mirroring back, reminding him of all the feelings he was damned to endure for too short of a lifetime.
“No. Your days on quests are behind you.” At least, as far as Poseidon was aware of. The fates spun in ways even he had little control of.
“Oh. Okay.” His shoulders dropped in relief, more than they had since Poseidon appeared on the sand with him.
He wasn’t sure when he became so attached to his son. Not the exact moment. Not a single reason to explain why Poseidon’s own concern regarding the prophesied forbidden child had melted away. Percy had been born with the potential to be everything Poseidon had feared in fatherhood and somehow had become something he had never anticipated.
Because he couldn’t see the boy ever wanting to start a war for the sake of power. Percy would find ruling to be torture onto himself. He would dread the moments as if they were years, and the years of immortality would only shackle him.
No, Percy would not change much more with time in that regard. The boy who blushed at the suggestion of having a child so young, who was willfully blind to the appeal and power he possessed. He was not looking for power for the sake of having it. No, that Percy was so distant from Poseidon himself it was shocking.
The boy would never be happy or content in that life. No matter how much Poseidon ached to keep him.
“Explain something to me, son?”
“Um - sure?”
He gestured towards the little girl, who only had eyes for her brother now, content to rest against his chest. “She will grow up far away from you. You will miss many moments. Why go? Is this not what you longed for? A normal mortal life with your mortal family?”
Percy turned to face him. His eyes locked in on his own. He didn’t look confused, but he did look surprised. Perhaps the distance Poseidon had been forced to give him since Kronos’ defeat had left questions about his place.
But he spoke up before Poseidon could remind him he was still his favorite son.
“I’ll miss her a lot. I’m so used to seeing her everyday, I don’t know how I’m going to do it. But this is normal. This is what mortals do. They grow up and they go away to college and they learn and stuff. And then they come back for all the holidays. And she’ll grow up - but so will I.”
The words echoed of Sally's wisdom. Perhaps his son, like him, had wondered how to manage such an adoration towards someone so precious.
Poseidon rationally knew Percy was right. Were it any other child of his, he wouldn’t even have formed such a thought. But it wasn’t. It was Percy. It was Sally’s son. It was a boy who looked at his sister with such devotion that the only thought Poseidon had been able to use to justify it was that he had fathered the child.
“I’ll miss her but - she’s going to be okay. And I’m going to be okay too.” He offered a weak smile, but it filled Poseidon with a relief that caused rainfall to descend on the barest of lands.
His boy would be okay. Even if he had to linger in the background to ensure it.
“The Romans can be rash and fearful of the sea.”
“I’ll have Annabeth, she’ll keep me safe.”
Poseidon forced himself to school his face in a neutral indifference instead of his rather desired huff. Athena’s sprog once more. Just what Poseidon wished to avoid, years of Athena lingering around his son.
“Athena’s daughter will face her own challenges. Minerva, unlike Neptune, will view her children differently.”
Perhaps Athena’s own righteous anger towards the Romans would be enough to keep her far from her so-called “favorite daughter”.
Percy’s eyes were so telling. It was as if strategies played on the shore of them, visible for everyone to see. “Will I only see you as Neptune when I’m there?”
Never.
Poseidon was sacrificing enough. Had granted Zeus enough to barter for his son’s life, for his place in a Roman camp. He was forcing himself to endure the limitations of a mortal life for his son. There was no way he would stray far. Even the parts of him that were Neptune knew Percy, knew what he meant.
“No. You are Greek. I will not forget you, my son, I will come if you call. But inside Camp, surrounded by Romans, Neptune may come to you as well. He favors his own children over mine but he will respect you.”
“Erm - thanks.”
New Rome was surrounded by constant beaches. Percy would not be far from him, but yet, he hoped for more. “Tyson is still there as well. And he comes to Atlantis regularly. Perhaps you will make it a habit to join him as well?”
“Really?”
“Of course. You saw your room.”
“That was for me? I thought you meant for the day I was there.”
There was an awe in his voice that stirred at Poseidon. But he had no experience rendering such reassurances. “We had them built for you.”
“Oh - um, thank you.” Percy beamed a smile, it was crooked and just bright enough to make Poseidon want to move the oceans to keep it there.
“We could go now if you wish?”
“Erm - I can’t.” He smiled again but it was less dazzling, softer. Instead, he looked down as he gently lifted the baby a bit, her eyes had long ago started to droop with sleep.
Percy’s chambers were rather large for a mortal boy. He could surely share it with his sister. But, if he wished for it, Poseidon would find interest in the rebuilding efforts and build her her own, right next to his. “Bring her. I can make sure she can breathe properly.”
It would hardly be any effort. He prepared to send a part of his consciousness ahead and inform his staff at the palace of the needed accommodations.
But Percy was quicker.
“I shouldn’t.”
“It’s no bother.” It was pathetic to beg. He was a god. He did not beg. But Percy had him under a hold that defied all reasonable logic.
“I really shouldn’t.” The smile was gone. He was looking at the little girl with the same softness but his fingers had tightened enough for Poseidon to notice, even if the babe in them didn’t. “She - she should have a normal life.”
Percy had always been brave. In his younger years, it bordered more heavily on recklessness. But Poseidon had been watching him closer since Tartarus and Gaea. There was a caution in him that didn’t exist before. The combination of surviving the unimaginable and seeing the possibility for a normal life left him a changed boy.
Poseidon hated the pain that had led to it. So, he indulged him in the parts that made him hopeful.
But now, he was cautious as he denied his father, and that was something Poseidon would have to work to rectify. He purposefully kept his voice light, despite how much the rejection stung. “I understand.”
“I just don’t want her to catch anyone’s attention.” He explained a bit quicker.
“That is wise.”
It was. Percy was being far more logical than Poseidon’s consciousness was in that moment, and he knew that. He knew how it would look to his brothers. His favorite child, going to Atlantis with a mortal baby. Rumors would sweep across Olympus, and likely other Pantheons, in a matter of hours. If he was lucky, they would assume as he did, that the child belonged to Percy. But between them, the likely culprit when a new child was identified would be Poseidon. Zeus would not ask questions. He would strike.
In actuality, Zeus could choose to strike against the girl even if she were not Poseidon’s directly. The concept had not been openly discussed when they reached a consensus regarding their forbidden children. The tentative agreements were born quickly after their victory. Legacies of their forbidden children would have caused more deliberation.
So, it was not discussed. It was something that, prior to Percy’s acceptance into New Rome, had favored Zeus - Jupiter’s boy. The Roman boy had existed outside the reigns of their initial vow, under a technicality only Zeus could exploit. But his immersion into Camp Halfblood had folded him in. Despite it all, the boy was a Roman; he was more likely to make it to full adulthood than Hades’ or Poseidon’s Greek boys, who were more likely to die young.
Now, there were possibilities for all of them. Hades’ boy seemed content to dart through both camps and his father’s domain. And, more importantly, Percy would find safety in New Rome until he reached full maturity.
He could have the normal life he desired.
“Maybe I can come this weekend?” Percy’s voice cut through his thoughts, reminding him that his mind moved at speeds beyond that of the mortal boy’s.
But the question energized Poseidon once more. “Yes. That would be good.” He smiled, hoping to not scare the boy with the enthusiasm he was quelling.
“Great. Thanks, dad.”
Poseidon wouldn’t take Sally’s daughter to Atlantis. It was not her place. But he would be able to take their son. He would be able to show him another home. A home he should’ve had. And, perhaps, one day, Percy would feel the freedom to bring his own children there.
He could already envision Percy in that role.
“She’s asleep.” Poseidon whispered, as he reached to touch her exposed toes. It was quick, just enough to grant the child his blessing. It would be light, only a god at full strength would see it, but it would be enough to scare away any mortals or monsters willing to hurt her. And it was casual enough to not warrant a deep thought from others.
“Yeah, mom and Paul had some errands to run, so I offered to watch her. But it’s getting late. I should probably head home.” He still looked cautious. As if waiting for Poseidon’s mood to shift. It would take time for his son to overcome his time in Tartarus but he hoped it would be soon. He missed the brashness of his boy.
Percy easily stood up, never releasing or jostling the child in his arms, and put his backpack on. And Poseidon followed. Percy looked surprised for a second, but neither spoke of it. They simply walked the several steps toward the paved walkway.
Not far from where they sat was a stroller contraption mortals used to transport their children in modern times. Perhaps it was why Percy had chosen that edge of the sea. Poseidon would have never thought of such mundane needs. But Percy had. He seemed to be familiar with it, with a single hand he was unfolding the thing, moving buckles and just as gently laying the sleeping girl down.
And then, he still stopped and smiled down at her, almost as if it were reflex.
Perhaps it was.
“Percy?”
His son was brushing some stray sand from the stroller but he looked up.
“Do you wish to be a father?”
“What?” It was clear it was the last thing he expected to be asked. “Why are you asking?”
“You have great care for her.”
“Well, yeah, she’s my sister.” He spoke as if it were the most obvious explanation. “I- I’m kind of young still.”
The heat rising from his neck to his cheeks was quick. Quicker than Poseidon had seen it before. It made him chuckle at his boy. He was not a great liar. He had given the topic more than a quick thought. “Of course.”
Percy opened and closed his mouth a couple times. The flush hardly fading, under Poseidon's cheeky grin. But finally he spoke, hushed and quickly. “Maybe. I mean, I - I think so. Yeah.”
He groaned and Poseidon was sure that if it wasn’t for the sleeping baby, Percy would’ve found a way to run far away from him. It made Poseidon even more grateful to Sally’s daughter,
Because finally, when the flush began to clear enough, he spoke. “I mean - I hope so, one day, very far away. Like years - don’t tell mom, I really don’t want another long, and way too detailed, birds and bees talk. But like - yeah. I think it would be cool. I think Annabeth and I would rock at it.”
Athena’s spawn.
It wasn’t that Poseidon would prohibit it, but there had to be a fate out there taunting him. But, so be it. If he had to endure more of his niece for one mortal lifetime it would be a worthy price to pay for his son’s happiness. Besides, as Percy said, he was young. Perhaps he would find another love in New Rome.
“You will be wonderful,” Poseidon admitted, but kept his distaste of the girl at bay. Because even as he thought it, he knew it would be unlikely. His son was too loyal. Too devoted. Too in love with the girl. No. Poseidon would be stuck with Athena’s constant presence for decades.
“Why are you asking?” Percy asked as he reached back for the stroller. Poseidon gently followed along, granting him the approval to move forward and away from the ocean.
“Just a stray thought.” He lied.
He had known, at least a part of him, had known the answer. Percy was glamorized by all the demigods at both camps. The small children adored him. Even Dionysus praised him for how he cared for the children he was cursed to look after.
Poseidon had always thought it likely. Inevitable really. But he had wondered if Percy had reached the point in which he knew it too.
“This isn’t where you tell me I’m cursed and can never have kids. Or, how if I do, all Olympus would come after us right?”
He forced himself to smile. To make his eyes lie. Because he would never say it. He could never say it. But if getting Zeus to allow Percy to attend New Rome had cost Poseidon unrestrained use of naval routes and the humiliation of having three minor gods endorse Percy, then granting Percy peace as a father would be rather costly. And both he and Zeus knew Poseidon would pay.
The only thing he could hope for was that Jupiter’s boy was just like his father and would father his own spawn quickly. Then Poseidon could be the merciful one. Like he had been when Zeus’ girl had been claimed.
But he was not the god of the sea because he sat back in idleness. No. Poseidon had time to prepare. As Percy said, he was young. Poseidon likely had several years to garner his strength and reinforce his defenses in case of war. Search for prizes Zeus would covet, so when the time came, if he needed to, he could be prepared.
Hades would be easier. He had two children. A daughter Zeus forgot about, because of Pluto. But the child was strong and in the wrong generation. She was a piece Hades would have to concede heavily to protect. And he would. His boy was attached to his new sister.
So, Poseidon would not say anything. He would prepare. And he would ensure his favorite son had the life he wanted. Even if it was too short for Poseidon’s liking.
“No. Nothing like that my son, just the wandering thoughts of an ancient god. Now go, so she can rest. The sea will always be here for you both.”
“Thanks, dad.” They had reached his car. And Percy seemed to expertly move around the vehicle with the pram never out of sight. The little girl was still deep in sleep as he moved her to another device in the car before folding the stroller back and into the car.
“See you next weekend!” He smiled as he readied to get into the car himself.
Poseidon offered a smile and a simple wave. Wondering when it had become such a task to care for a child, partly wishing he never would’ve had the urge to, but mostly wishing he could call him back and never let him out of his sight.
“Bye, my boy.”