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It was a week before school, the same summer after the giant war. Percy was tired, exhausted after fighting for so long, and opted to spend the last week of his freedom with his mum at Montauk.
Their little beach house was coloured with peeling pastel paint that threatens to jump into the ground’s embrace, revealing the shy wood underneath. The floorboards creak with a melody of home, each step another note to the symphony of safety.
Percy wanted more than anything to feel safe, to feel at ease, to feel relaxed, for once. He sat at the porch of their little home watching the ocean waving at him. The white sea foam bristled and hacked at the residing sand, dragging them beneath the waves and throwing them back on the shore in a game of catch. The sun gleamed and glistened on the tumultuous sea, the waves catching the light so it shatters into mesmerising stars, blinding and illuminating the beauty of the vast ocean.
Percy watched with a longing gaze at the blue sea, his locks of hair shifting in the sea breeze as if in response to the waves that was greeting him.
Absentmindedly, he scratched at his legs. It has been itching and bothering him for days now.
‘Percy, lunchtime!’ shouted Sally from inside their cabin. And in response, Percy stood up and made his way into the kitchen, drawn like a beacon was shining as the smell of food wafted in the salty air. Closing the rusting door behind him, he wadded his way to be greeted with the sight of peanut butter and jam sandwiches, accompanied a heaven of blue sweets.
Instantly, his eyes lit up as his lips curved into a smile, a quiet chuckle letting loose into the air. They sat in companionable silence for a while.
‘Percy, stop itching at your leg, it’s all red’ commented Sally after a while.
‘What?’ Percy replied as his gaze shifted to his legs. Sure enough, red seeped its way into the tanned complexion of his skin.
‘But mum, it’s really dry and itchy’ whined Percy, even though he felt slightly guilty as a seventeen year old whining at his mum about something as minute as irritable skin, but he decided that after all he has been through, at least let him have the privilege of complaining.
‘Is it an allergic reaction?’ Sally asked, curiosity clouded with a slight worry for her baby boy.
‘If I’m allergic to peace, yeah’ muttered Percy under his breath.
‘What’s that?’ questioned Sally, and in reply Percy quickly denied saying anything.
‘Try stop itching at it, that might help’ shrugged Sally, who honestly has no idea what could have caused it, ‘maybe we can get something for it later when we pop into the store.’
Unbeknownst to the pair, Percy’s legs gleamed under the light like the waves, shattering light into a kaleidoscope of colours: an enchanting scene of magic.
When Percy finished his sandwich, his legs felt so itchy and dry as the autumn leaves, he decided to go for a swim. After all, his water healing abilities might help relieve him of this annoying predicament.
He stepped foot into the surging waves that hugged him, as he felt the welcoming presence his dad’s domain brought. The water seeped and brushed at his skin, relieving him of the annoying itch that has persisted and plagued him.
He sat near the shore, but deep enough in the sea that he is fully submerged, bathing in the silence and calm that the sea brings. No clashing of swords and shouts of effort. No wailing and sobbing over dead bodies. No ringing of pressure that pressed on him of saving the world. Beneath the waves he is not Perseus - the hero and saviour of Olympus, he can just exist as Percy - a tired teenager who has been through way too much.
The silence persisted as waves yawned its way across the surface, refracting the sunlight that beams and permeates the currents. Percy lounged languidly on a rock at the seabed, content to just rest for a while.
Then out of nowhere, a tingling hot sensation ran through his legs. It hurts. It burns. And Percy was suddenly jolted out of his peaceful drifts.
His breath hitched, quickened, as panic overtook him and seized control of his brain. He thrashed uselessly against the sensation.
The water slowly blackened as tendrils of shadows invaded his safety, and opening his eyes he regarded the red roof that flashed with the occasional lightning. The unknown avian creatures silhouetted against the bright flash. Skeletal trees stretched their bare arms to seize him, his brain registers the danger a moment too late as he dodged a swinging branch.
A burning sensation filled his guts, as he realised that he was kneeling beside the Phlegethon. The fire travelled and burned it’s path down his body, igniting the molecules and leaving him heaving for breath.
The only difference was the tingling in his legs, as light flashes and glistened like stained glass in the hellish landscape.
In his fear, he let out a quiet instinctual chirp. An Atlantean distress call.
The sound echoes and travelled through the open seas, as if the ocean herself carried the message to his family.
— —
Triton was attending to his duties when his clairaudience registered a chirp. A chirp of an infant of the sea in distress. A chirp that instinctually evokes his protectiveness. A chirp that made him drop his duties to rush to help whoever that was in his need.
He arrives at the shores of Montauk, but finds no problems or concerns about. The shoreline is as it should be, no monsters or nets floating like disguised danger that consumes his creatures.
He was about to leave when he heard it again. A frightened chirp. He shot through the water, as if the sea was propelling him forward to help its own.
His sight landed on his little half-brother, curled up, faced scrunched in pain as sweat gleaned off his head. A heavy mist that should not belong in the sea gathered around like attentive watchers and in turn obsfucated his legs.
‘Perseus,’ Triton shouted as he reached his shaking form, ‘Perseus, breathe. You are safe,’ he reassured, his hand gently massaging his brother’s creased brow.
That is not to say he enjoyed Perseus’ company, as the circumstances of his birth lingered bitterly, highlighting his father’s betrayal to his mother. But the fault does not lie with the boy. A soul too young to be tainted with war that his seasoned warrior still struggle with coping.
Triton effortlessly lifted Perseus’ body and pulled the currents to send them to Atlantis. Simultaneously, he placed Perseus’ hand on his chest and mimicked the human motion of breathing. After all, he is the commander of the Atlatean military, and has witnessed his share of panic attacks.
Still, the quiet ocean provided no clear trigger, as confusion clouded Triton’s thought. Nonetheless, his foremost goal would be to reach his father, who perhaps would be more enlightened in the situation than Triton’s careful impervious facade of disinterest would allow.
He swung open the door to his father’s office without a customary knock - an unbecoming action for the crown prince, but excused for the lack of witness except his father. His annoyed expression quickly shifted to concern as he eyed the bundle of Perseus in Triton’s arm.
The ornate door closed as the currents directed it to, and Triton deposited Perseus into his father’s arms.
‘He was chirping in distress, and I find no ailment that could be cause for alarm,’ Triton said in an attempt to soothe his father’s frayed nerves.
‘Thank you my son,’ Poseidon replied gently, although his attempt to smile was infiltrated by his unshaken worry for his youngest.
With his brother safe in his father’s arms, he resumed his duties.
— —
To find his door barged open by his usually composed son, holding his youngest son who was shaking in fear was not how Poseidon envisioned his day. Taking in the situation at a glance, he reached for Percy, who whimpered in the exchange of hands.
Poseidon thanked Triton, and took Percy to his room, setting him gently on his bed. It had seemed that Triton had helped eased his panic attack, and now exhaustion has replaced his initial fear.
‘O γιος μου,’ Poseidon soothed in his gentle voice, carried like the relaxed waves on a summer day.
‘Dad?’ whispered an unsure voice, as Percy lifted his trembling eyelids to be met with sea green eyes that he sees in the mirror daily.
‘My precious pearl, you are safe. Breathe,’ continued his father, as Percy unconsciously leaned into his lulling embrace of safety.
— —
When Percy finally resumed his normal breathing, and his heart did not thump like a funeral march in his ear drums, he looked up to see his father sitting next to him on his bed. In Atlantis.
He has a foggy recollection of how he ended up here, something about Triton barging into his dad’s prestigious office. He silently chuckled, as his imagination conjured up an image of said event.
‘Can you tell me what happened?’ his father’s voice pulling him from his reverie.
After a pause or two, Percy started in explaining what he remembered: his itchy legs, going into the sea, enjoying the silence, the sudden thrust of heat that seems to set his leg on fire, a reminder to the Phelgethon, to the pit, then realising he is here.
As he recounted his memories, his dad’s glances towards the mist that gathered was not missed. But instead of the quiet concern that his mum held, his dad’s visage held a certain glee, oblivious to Percy’s perceptive gaze.
As Percy finished his account of events, his dad gently asked, ‘how long has the itching been going on for?’
‘A week or so, why?’
‘I believe you are growing a tail’, his dad replied, directing the currents to push away the lingering mist.
Percy’s face must have shown his extreme shock as his father looked amused and pleased with himself.
‘What?’ Percy managed to croak out after a minute of silence, looking down towards his legs.
What met his gaze was not his usual body with two legs that are the colour of tanned skin. Instead, a glistening tail took its place. It has scales that shifted in the light, reflecting and shining like a sun catcher, illuminating a rainbow of colours in the surrounding. Teal scales shifted to navy in a gradient along the tail, each translucent yet shone like they are glowing. Fins adorned the sides of his tail, as their iridescent complexion complimented his scales.
Percy didn’t move for a whole 5 minutes, which for Percy, was a crazy thing. However, the mixture of shock and unsureness in how to move contributed to his continued stillness.
‘How?’ Percy questioned in a fascinated voice that was tinged with anxiety.
‘It is a trait that some of my children have, but only those that are very connected to the sea. They each have the potential for a tail, but only those that regularly connect with the sea would trigger a transformation.’ Seeing Percy’s slight fear, Poseidon quickly added, ‘do not worry, guppy, it is only when you are fully submerged in water that it transforms.’
‘Oh, well that’s convenient.’
Eventually, the stillness became bothersome to Percy, and he attempted to get up. After multiple attempts and his dad’s barely contained laughter, Poseidon helped him sit up straight, and began teaching him how to swim with a tail.
As one expected when combining a new merman, a son of Poseidon who can control the currents, and a tendency of chaos, it is not unexpected that Percy ended up crashing multiple times into walls, furniture, and even his dad once. That ended in a hug though, so he didn’t mind it so much.
Well into the evening, Percy finally grasped how to control the delicate movement of his tail, and can swim properly. And that is without the help of the water, which Percy is very proud of.
— —
Meanwhile, Poseidon merely chuckled at his son, stumbling around like a kid learning to walk, well, he suppose it is similar. Either way, the joyful expression that rarely graced Percy’s face had perpetuated throughout the afternoon, leading to Poseidon lingering instead of attending his growing pile of work.
If it meant seeing his traumatised and burdened son act his age and have fun, it is all worth it.