Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

1. Broken Bone: Percy & Poseidon
2. Explosion: Percy & Thalia
3. Guilt: Percy & Poseidon
4. Bandaging Wounds: Percy/Annabeth
5. Scars: Percy & Poseidon
6. Self Inflicted: Percy & Poseidon
7. Starvation: Percy & Poseidon
8. Tucked In: Percy & Poseidon
9. Fever:Percy & Paul
10. Self Sacrifice: Percy & Poseidon
11. Outnumbered: Percy & Poseidon
12. Cathartic Bath: Percy & Poseidon & Thalia
13. Paralyzed: Percy & Tyson
14. Hypothermia: Percy & Blackjack
15. Drugged: Percy & Poseidon
16. Concussed: Percy & Grover
17. Sleep Deprivation: Percy & Sally
18. Nightmare:Percy & Paul
19. Hypoxia: Percy & Poseidon
20. Migraine: Percy & Poseidon
21. Burn: Percy & Sally
22. Mute: Percy & Poseidon & Annabeth
23. Reopened Wound: Percy & Poseidon
24. Grief: Percy & Hades
25. Kidnapped: Percy & Poseidon
26. Thrown Against Something: Percy & Triton
27. Kiss it Better: Percy & Amphitrite
28. Touch Deprived: Percy & Triton
29. Exhausted: Percy & Triton
30. Ear Pain: Percy & Triton & Poseidon
31. Drunk: Percy & Amphitrite & Triton
32. Stabbed: Percy & Triton
32. Drunk (The Prequel): Percy & Poseidon
33. Hangover: Percy & Amphitrite
35. Abducted: Percy & Hades
36. Selfish: Percy & Triton
37. Bad Day: Paul & Percy
38. Awkward Silence: Hades & Percy

Chapter Text

Poseidon wasn't sure what was louder the sickening crack of his son's arm or the sound that tore from the hero's mouth as the monster twisted it so hard you could see the bone break beneath the skin. The pain momentarily stunned the demigod, who took a ragged breath through his mouth as he sank to his knees. Poseidon watched in silent amazement as, before the monster could take advantage of his son's precarious position, Percy took one more rattling breath and pushed the pain from his eyes, neatly compartmentalizing the agony away for later. His friends needed him; he had no time for pain.

Percy gritted his teeth and, sweat visibly dripping down his ashen face, forced himself to his feet, bringing Riptide up as a buffer between himself and the monster. His arm dangled uselessly by his side, half cradled against his tattered shirt. His white knuckles grasped Riptide's hilt and, as the monster moved to finish him, Percy stabbed at its exposed underbelly. The monster dropped its hold of the demigod, who barely managed to keep himself upright as the only thing holding himself up removed itself. The monster didn't give Percy time to adjust to the sudden reduction in his mobility but surged forward, claws extended. Percy squared his feet, putting his weight into a good swing of Riptide that sent the monster scuttling back. Percy rebalanced himself, Riptide at the ready as across from him the monster prowled with narrowed eyes. The two surveyed each other, the realization slowly dawning that a stalemate had been drawn between the pair. Percy was weakened by the injury but on the defense now, meaning the monster would have to risk Riptide's bite to reach him. At least before Percy put himself at risk in his offensive against the beast but now . . . the two stared at each other.

"Come on then," Percy scoffed, his voice scratchy and uneven. His shoulders were squared, feet firmly planted in preparation of the pending attack. The monster licked its lips, head swaying slightly.

Percy followed every movement with eyes bright with adrenaline.

"Wait, what are you—?" Percy asked, eyes widening as the monster shifted and . . . sat down.

Waiting until the adrenaline wears off, Poseidon thought bitterly, gripping his trident tight as he watched the standoff from his useless place under the sea. It knew Percy with even one arm down was too great a threat to defeat . . . at least, until the adrenaline wore off and the pain grew too great to ignore. Then the monster could risk the offensive. Percy seemed to realize this too, his jaw clenching tightly.

"No, no," he muttered furiously. "No, you don't, you stupid, overgrown chihuahua, attack me."

Percy shuffled forward a step. The monster didn't budge.

"Attack me," Percy repeated, not doing a great job at goading the creature back into action.

Percy breathed heavily, expression half-wild. He knew he only had so long before the pain became too great to ignore. Poseidon could see the calculations running through his head (the distance to the monster, the speed of the previous attack, how fast could he move, how hard could he swing Riptide one-handed—)

Don't, Poseidon thought, alarmed. Where were the blasted demigods that flanked his son's side earlier? There was no sign of them now. Percy and the monster had backed into a dingy corner between two shabby brick buildings. Poseidon could sense, even though the strenuous connection between himself and his son, the water that rushed through the pipes of the buildings on either side of Percy, distant but—

Reach for me, Poseidon urged him, trying to press the thought into Percy's wild eyes. The water rushed through the pipes, churning against metal restraints. Reach for me.

Percy's eyes slowly panned to the right, looking at the side of the building. In a snap decision, Percy pivoted, the arm that held Riptide extending out as he reached inside himself for the power of his father. Poseidon heaved a great sigh as water burst through the wall, scattering bricks across the asphalt. The monster screeched but couldn't get out of the way fast enough. The blast of water sent the monster sprawling on its back, its legs kicking in the air. Percy didn't hesitate, springing into action; he threw himself forward and with one swift thrust of Riptide vanquished the stunned creature.

Percy gasped, stumbling a little from the sudden exertion. He blinked down at the spot where the monster used to be, reaching out with the tip of Riptide to nudge the golden dust it left behind as if to ensure his eyes weren't deceiving him. The ruptured pipe continued to spew water, spurting noisily onto the ground. Distantly, an alarm inside the building began to shrill. Poseidon thought for a moment then, with barely more than a twitch of the hand, changed the direction of the water so it splashed against his son's battered side instead.

The sudden pressure brought Percy back to himself. His head snapped up, eyes darting suspiciously around the alley, Riptide at the ready. When he realized there wasn't a threat, his shoulders slumped and he blew out a shaky breath. As he clumsily capped Riptide one-handedly, the water drew Percy's attention.

He reached out with his good hand, fingers spreading out under the spray of the water as he let the water dull his pain. A smile curved up his battered face, eyes softening.

"Thanks, Dad," he said with such fondness it made the inevitable lecture from Zeus entirely worth it.

A commotion around the corner shattered the moment; Percy seemed largely unconcerned as the son of Jupiter and Hephaestus barreled around the corner.

"About time you two showed up," Percy scoffed, stepping out to greet them.

"Sorry, we - oh gods, Percy, your arm!"

"Yeah," Percy said, face losing color as his feet left the safety of the pipe's spray. "Somebody catch me, I'm gonna pass out."

Chapter Text

The daughter of Zeus's arrow rang true and hit the mechanical bull in the thin groove right between its neck plates. Percy, the distraction hovering dangerously close to the machine's fire spewing mouth, gave a whoop of joy – that lasted the brief moment it took for the bull to self-destruct. Percy had enough time to throw his arms up, shielding his preciously vulnerable face, before the blast sent him topping head over heels down Half-Blood Hill. He was unconscious before he finally stopped tumbling, his clothes singed and the scream of his cousin bouncing unheard off his ears.

Thalia all but flew down the hill after him, throwing herself on her knees next to Percy. Her bow was hastily discarded as her fingers abandoned it in favor of helping the son of Poseidon, the beautiful silver relic coming to land a foot away from Percy's feet but Thalia didn't time to worry about it. Her hands desperately reached out to put out the fledging cinders at the edge of his shirt and hair, quelling the embers before they could grow into actual flames.

"Kelp Brain!" she shouted, ears ringing from the force of the bull's explosion. "Kelp Brain, wake up. Annabeth will kill me if you don't wake up."

He didn't rouse at her frantic babbling, head lobbing to the side as she turned him over onto his back. Her fingers, not quite steady, took two tries to find a pulse and she gasped, a great hiccupped inhale of air that made her feel lightheaded when she finally found a beat.

"Okay, okay, good, good," she gasped, leaning protectively over his crumpled frame. She shook his shoulders a few times, slapping his soot-covered cheeks.

"Get me some ambrosia!" she screamed over her shoulder before turning her attention back to the son of Poseidon.

"Come on, come on, wake up," she repeated forcefully, pawing at his person for injuries.

Her quick fingers found several cuts from the exploded metal, long nasty gashes but nothing too serious, nothing bleeding too much. What if he was bleeding internally, what if he had a concussion—gods couldn't the brain swell and cause irreversible damage, who could check for that sort of thing, where were the Apollo campers—

"Wake up, wake up," she muttered furiously, heart pounding sickeningly in her throat as she pulled his head onto her lap, unsure what to do, what to touch, what not to touch—

Then suddenly he lurched half off her lap, gasping for air like a drowning man. He tried to lurch into an upright position but Thalia, head full of horrifying images of his ribs broken inside his chest or brain swelling, shoved him right back down, hands splayed across his heaving chest.

"Stay down," she commanded in her no-nonsense lieutenant's voice.

Percy, for what had to be the first time in his life, complied. He stayed where he was, still gasping for breath, eyes wildly flickering around them.

"You're safe," Thalia told him firmly, one hand coming up to hold his head still as she took a quick look over her shoulder. Sure enough, she could see the outline of Chiron galloping over, undoubtedly bringing aide with him.

"How do you feel, what hurts?" Thalia demanded, turning her attention back to Percy. "Does your chest feel funny, can you breath okay, is anything restricting your breathing, can you see, do things look fuzzy, how is—"

"It exploded," Percy said in a very dazed voice that cut off Thalia's rapid fire questions. He blinked up at Thalia, looking so utterly bewildered it gave her a pause. "Thalia, did you know they exploded?"

"No." She wouldn't have sent Percy in so close if she had known.

Percy blinked up at her.

"What the actual Hades?" he whined and the surrealism cracked a grin out of the elder cousin.

"Thalia, it exploded," Percy repeated in disbelief. Thalia couldn't help it; she burst into utter hysteria at the dumbfounded look on his soot-covered face, half indignant half amazed, laughing uncontrollably as she bent over Percy, shoulders shaking violently.

"I know, I know," Thalia laughed, one hand cradling Percy's head (she was pretty sure he had a concussion at the least), the other reaching up to hold her own head up as she continued to laugh until her side hurt.

If there was an edge of panicked hysteria to her laugh, well, nobody was around to call her out on it and Percy was probably too concussed to remember.

Chapter Text

PTSD, the human called it.

I'm fine, Percy had lied.

It was a strange little standoff to observe, as long as you didn't look too closely.

Percy sat in his faded jeans and ragged old blue t-shirt, chin in his palm as he determinedly gazed out the window instead of at the human across him. His legs were sprawled out before him, ankles digging into the old, soft carpet that threatened to swallow them. The human was dressed formally but muted with her ankles crossed and a notebook on her lap as she patiently waited.

The school had mandated his son see the woman. Had it been one too many outbursts, an absence one month too long, the dismal grades, the apathy in his eyes; Poseidon wasn't sure but it had landed Percy in the oversized green chair in his school's counselor's office every Tuesday morning.

If you would just talk about it, the woman suggested.

I'm fine, Percy had lied, eyes fixed out the window as he let the words float over him, dissipating into nothingness, for that was all they were worth. He couldn't let them be worth anything greater.

Life's cruel ironies were not lost on the son of Poseidon. He couldn't just talk about it; he couldn't tell her the truth. He couldn't tell her about the horrors he had endured, about the depths of Tartarus and its lingering terrors that dodged his every step. He couldn't tell her about the friends he saw die, the ones he thought he could have saved (you couldn't, it wasn't your fault), the ones he held in his arms as they drew their last breath. The responsibility they had laid upon him since the moment he crossed the camp's border all those years ago.

Sometimes Poseidon wanted to reach through all the red tape that separated them, to shake the boy until all his insecurities left him, until he understood that he couldn't save them all, that it wasn't his fault, that he was the greatest hero Olympus had ever seen, why couldn't he see it too? He wanted to wrap the demigod up until nothing could ever touch him again, until he could smile freely once more.

I'm fine, Percy had lied.

Talking will make you feel better, the woman pressed.

Percy had smiled. They all knew he would feel better if he could just talk about it. They all knew he couldn't (wouldn't) talk about it. Help sat across from him in knock-off pumps and a three-year-old blazer but he had to turn her down. Like everything else in his life, like all the little and not so little and impossible to carry things that piled up on top of the son of Poseidon until he felt he couldn't breathe, he couldn't sleep, he couldn't eat, he couldn't, he couldn't—.

Help sat before him but Percy Jackson existed half outside her world. A demichild in every sense of the word. Half here and half there, yet never truly in either. This mortal woman couldn't help him any more than Poseidon could.

I'm fine, Percy had lied.

Chapter Text

The cut wasn't serious but it was deep enough that a mortal would have needed stitches. A sip of nectar or a slice of ambrosia would have done the trick nicely for the demigod— if they had any.

"We really need to just start carrying a full medkit with us," Hazel remarked as she leaned over Percy and Annabeth, her and Frank trying to block the sun's unforgiving heat and glare from the pair down below as Annabeth worked on her boyfriend.

"Or never, ever go on a wild goose chase in the desert again," Annabeth said savagely, using the rest of Percy's shirt to tie off the gash that graced its former wearer's side.

"It's not bleeding anymore," Percy said as if he thought this helped. From the dark look his girlfriend shot him, it didn't.

"So you won't bleed to death, but we're at least a days walk away from the nearest town and gods only know when we'll be able to get our hands on some ambrosia," Annabeth grumbled, her gentle hands at war with the anger in her voice as she carefully tucked the makeshift bandage into place. Percy hissed a little as she pressed and the daughter of Athena grimaced in apology.

"We just need water," Percy reminded her soothingly, reaching out to gently card his fingers through her hair.

"Leo thinks he might have found something," Jason called jogging over. "How is he?"

"Fine," Percy said.

"No, you're not," Annabeth firmly overrode. "He needs ambrosia or water at the least."

"No really—" Percy's further objections were cut short as Annabeth put pressure on his side and he had to bite his tongue to avoid crying out. Jason gave a succinct nod.

"Got it. We'll figure it out," Jason promised dutifully like the good little golden boy he was. "Can I borrow Hazel and Frank?"

"Yeah go ahead," Annabeth dismissed turning her attention back to Percy.

"Wise Girl, really it's okay," Percy half whined.

"No it's really not," Annabeth snapped back. "You're in pain and that's unacceptable. I don't care if you allow it, I won't."

She said it with such ferocity, her grip on him near painful. Percy's eyes softened at her protective fury, leaning forward to press a lingering kiss to her forehead.

"I'm okay, Wise Girl," he repeated gently, no bravo in his voice now. Some of the brimstone faded from Annabeth's face as she leaned against her boyfriend.

She looked up at him with stormy gray eyes, jaw tightly clenched but he knew her, knew her better than anyone else in the world and could see (was allowed to see) the fear lurking behind the mask. The last year had not been kind to them. Side wounds seemed trivial, so, so trivial when compared (they had fallen, fallen farther than anyone else before); side wounds were catastrophic when you knew just how much you had to lose, just how quickly, incomprehensively, you could lose everything you held most dear.

Percy understood. He kissed her forehead again, closing his eyes and comforting her the only way he could, with his real physical presence. I am here. I am here.

Thunder rumbled through the air. Annabeth stiffened protectively, jerking away with her knife at the draw. Above their heads, storm clouds, large and imposing in their darkened mass, closed in. The pair watched with suspicious eyes, one of Annabeth's hands splayed protectively over Percy's side. They were together. That's what mattered. Come what may, they were together.

Another clasp of thunder shook the sand beneath their feet. Then, after a moment of static mobility, the heavens opened and it began to downpour. Annabeth stared dumbly at the on-slaughter. The hand that grasped the knife slowly rose into the air, water bouncing off its bronze surface. Her disbelieving eyes turned to meet Percy's stunned ones, both hardly daring to believe. The rain splattered against their skin, drenching them through in a matter of seconds. Annabeth lowered her knife, turning to watch the rain run down Percy's chest and seep into the makeshift bandage around his midsection. She gently spread her fingers out, feeling the skin beneath her palm pull itself back together. Somewhere in the distance, Leo gave a whoop of joy.

"Favors don't come free," Percy murmured his mouth barely moving.

"Maybe it's payment." Annabeth didn't really believe that and from the look on Percy's face, neither did he.

Once more Percy gathered his girlfriend against him and the daughter of Athena gladly went, curling into his side as they let the rain wash over them. It didn't matter; they were together, they would figure it out. 

Chapter Text

Percy said it was to keep people from bothering him. After all, where was a better place for the son of Poseidon to catch some peace and quiet than at the bottom of a lake?

Poseidon knew it was only a partial truth. Sometimes Percy did retreat to the tranquility of his shores when the demigods were being particularly irksome (like when the son of Hephaestus blew up one too many things or the son of Jupiter's ego eroded at Percy's admittedly short temper)—and Percy would escape to the tranquility of his father' domain. That happened.

It wasn't the only thing that happened.

Some days, it was the noise; the clashing of swords, the twang of arrows loosened from their notches, the flap of pegasus's wings as the beasts took to the skies, boisterous, unbridled laughter bouncing around the pavilion that pressed around him, too loud, too full of memories, too much, just too much.

Some days it was colors; the blue of innocent eyes that unabashedly followed his every move, the steady brown of trusting hands reaching out to touch, to clasp, to shake, the red stains that never washed out even after their vibrancy faded, the gray threat of loss that faithfully walked beside him, the empty green that stared out of the mirror.

Some days it was nothing at all; the absence of sound, the mundane cadence of routine, the coolness of sheets against sweat sleek skin and screams swallowed before fruition.

Poseidon knew he would cradle his son beneath his waves those nights. Sometimes he stayed for but a moment. Sometimes he stayed for hours. Poseidon couldn't help selfishly enjoying the days he stayed entire nights and it looked like today was one such night. Percy sank below his waves three hours ago. He probably wouldn't leave until the morning's light. Two hours ago he entertained the hippocampus that nuzzled and nipped with affection but the great seahorses had settled in as the sun's light disappeared from the lake's floor and Percy followed their lead. The son of Poseidon laid on his side, nestled into the soft silk of the mudded lake floor. One arm served as his pillow, a stray chunk of rolled up seaweed nestled in the crook for comfort. His chest rose and fell in tandem with the current of the lake. Poseidon took great satisfaction in Percy's ease, the safety he took from his father's domain that the land couldn't afford (not even the faithful gray that stayed ever by his side). Percy couldn't sleep on land, but here under his father's eye, he felt safe enough to slumber.

The current swirled around Percy, urged gently on by the god halfway across the world. It swirled protectively around his son's frame, caressing the gentle slope of his peaceful face. The movement shifted the weary hero, not enough to wake him but enough to cause his shirt to ride up. Poseidon sighed as the fabric pulled away to reveal the scarred skin underneath. The shallow remains of claw marks marred his son's ribs, an ugly, jagged outline of a faded javelin wound blemished the skin of his lower back, perfectly straight lines from the bite of a sword across his hip; times when ambrosia hadn't been administered fast enough, the ocean too far to prevent the stains.

Oh my son, Poseidon thought heavily.

Part of him wanted to reach out and shake the shirt back into place, to cover the reminder of his son's pain . . . of his failure to protect his own.

Poseidon left it be.

He deserved the reminder.

Percy shifted in his sleep, brow puckering. Perhaps he felt his father's churning emotions. Sleep, Poseidon assured him, cocooning the lake comfortingly around the child. Just sleep, my son.

Percy slept.

Chapter Text

The low hum of medical equipment permeated the relative silence of the university medical research center, lazily filtering through the halls, curling around the ankles of nurses and lab technicians as they worked in the fractured mid-evening sunlight. Dr. Stevens gave an absent nod to a nurse as he flicked through his files, mentally sorting the evening's task in the hopes of being warm and at home by eight. He wasn't a man prone to distraction nor unobservant tendencies, so when he turned to close his office door and found the space occupied, he nearly jumped in surprise.

"Hello," the man said pleasantly, stepping uninvited into the doctor's office. "Could you spare a moment?"

Despite it being far past any reasonable consultation hour and antithetical to scheduling policy, Dr. Stevens found himself welcoming the man in, gesturing towards the office chairs with an, "of course."

"That won't be necessary, I won't be long," the man assured him, critical eyes surveying the corners of the room.

The man's moment of scrutiny allowed Dr. Stevens his own scrutiny of the uninvited person; he couldn't explain it but there was something . . . unsettling about his bold visitor. The man cut an imposing figure despite an almost comically casual attire consisting of a Hawaiian shirt and khaki pants; tall and broad, his well-defined features spoke of age and wisdom, sea-green eyes dark with a depth unfathomable to the seasoned doctor. When said eyes turned to Dr. Stevens, the physician shivered despite himself, the room suddenly growing cold.

"Sorry to keep you from home, Dr. Stevens," the man laughed, shattering the eerie calm. "I had a couple questions about a patient of yours—my son, Percy Jackson."

"Oh yes Percy," the doctor said, recalling the teenage boy who did bear a striking resemblance to the man standing before him.

Yet Dr. Stevens knew he had never seen this man before. When Percy came in for his not-as-frequent-as-they-should-be therapeutic phlebotomy appointments, his mother or step-father usually accompanied him. Never this man. Dr. Stevens wouldn't forget an aura like his.

"Well, I'm afraid without the patient present—"

"He did a rather foolish thing not too long ago," the man continued, talking over the doctor as he walked further into the room, giving the various tomes of medical journals a curtsey glance over. "He had a concussion. He believed it to be caused by the disease, indirectly in that it made him too tired to function properly. I don't know if that's true—it might have been the concussion talking."

Dr. Steven wasn't entirely sure what the man was talking about. "Percy did mention—" well the pretty blonde girl who dragged him into the office mentioned it while the patient himself looked chagrined "—an incident. But he was perfectly good health, his iron levels were completely normal which is a good—"

"It wasn't good," the man interrupted. "He did a stupid thing and I want—I need to know how to stop him from doing it again. How can one tell when his levels are getting too low?"

"Well, you might notice him being overly tired, fatigued quicker than usual, increase irritability—"

The man frowned at him, annoyance visible on his features. "That's not very helpful, he is all of those things after any monster attack."

"I'm sorry, did you say monster attack?"

The man ignored him. "I need a way to identify when this is happening that is reliable. None of that will help me, tell me something useful."

"Well I'm sorry, but the symptoms aren't very exciting, it can be difficult to know without a test for sure if his iron levels are causing any abnormalities or if it's stress from normal everyday life—"

"You are exceedingly unhelpful—"

"The best thing to do is simply make sure that he's actually going to his appointments every three months," the doctor interrupted exasperated. "If he gets his blood drawn every three months, his iron levels will never rise beyond the level of acceptability and you won't have to worry about the iron poisoning his organs."

"Or my son doing something stupid again," the man muttered darkly, taking up pacing again. "What if he can't make an appointment?"

"Well as his father and someone who cares about his health, I suggest you ensure he can make them."

"The life of a demigod is anything but predictable there will be times when he simply won't be able to, and he is too stupid, too loyal to abandon his friends to attend," the man sounded like he was speaking more to himself than the doctor.

Dr. Stevens eyed him nervously, wondering if he should be concerned. The man didn't seem entire all there.

The man suddenly stopped pacing, hands clasped behind his back as he pivoted to stare at the doctor, striking fathomless green eyes boring into his very soul.

"Do you have any idea what it's like, doctor, to feel your child die?"

Dr. Steven's mouth worked soundlessly.

"You can't. Your feeble human brain cannot comprehend the severance. Sure, you humans all feel sadness and loss, but you don't feel death. Your children aren't a part of you like Percy is a part of the sea. You can't feel the connection, the strength, and understand the magnitude of a god's loss. When Percy . . . I felt it. I felt him leave my domain, a part of myself torn away by something so trivial, so ridiculously human and idiotic as iron in human blood."

The man's presence filled the room, suffocating and terrible, and the doctor found himself shaking, a horrible sense of dread overtaking him.

"That's unacceptable," the man declared. "I won't allow it to happen again. Every three months you say?"

"Ah, for, wh-what?"

"Every three months, he needs to release the iron in his blood every three months?"

"Y-yes, every three months."

"Every three months," the man repeated thoughtfully. "An exceedingly human concept. Thank you, doctor, you have been absolutely no help at all and it's only to spare Sally the headache of finding a new doctor that I leave you as you are."

"Huh?" the doctor didn't understand, but dread pounded through his veins as he backed up until he was flush against the wall, heart hammering in his chest.

"Good evening, doctor," the man said . . . and vanished before the astounded doctor's very office.

Dr. Stevens stared at his empty office. The darkened space remained still and silent, smelling faintly of sea spray.

Chapter Text

Percy's feet dragged against the grass, little swishes of dirt stirring up as he put minimal effort into raising his feet off the ground. The smell of his dinner—healthy and hearty and far richer than anything his mother could have afforded— infiltrated his sense, rolling nauseously around his stomach. Percy couldn't even stand to look at the pile of steaming delicacies without feeling a lurch in his abdomen. The fire roared before him, the heat from its flames licking over his cold hands as it was his turn to present his offering.

"For Poseidon," the words tumbled out his mouth so quietly he could barely even hear them as he tipped nearly the entire contents of his plate into the fire. He watched the food disappear into the flames and didn't feel any better.

Nobody else sat at table three with him. Tyson was helping to rebuild their father's castle, an endeavor that promised to be ongoing long after Percy's short life expired. Grover sometimes graced Percy with his presence but, after the wars, he too had become an impermanent figure. He could feel Annabeth's eyes on him when he sat at his table, but he could sit with his back to her or, if he wasn't so daring, hunch over his plate and obscure himself from any watchful eyes as he pushed food listlessly around his plate before giving up and letting the harpies take it away.

"Is that all you're going to eat?" Grover asked on the occasion he managed to slip away and join his old friend at Poseidon's table.

"I'm not hungry."

A hand on Percy's shoulder stopped him from moving towards the fire.

"Why don't you sit down and eat?"

Percy blinked up at the centaur. Chiron smiled down at him but the expression was a little off. The smile was thin and a little sad. Percy wanted to hate the pity he saw there, but he didn't have the energy to muster the emotion. He didn't have the energy to feel anything inside.

"I haven't made my offering yet," was what fell off his lips instead.

"It's okay," Chiron said, reaching out to squeeze Percy's shoulder, perhaps a little too tightly. "Your father doesn't need your offering today, son, let's go sit down."

The hand on his shoulder propelled him away from the fire and towards cabin three's table. Percy sat down at the old teacher's urging. He glanced up at Chiron, who hovered around the corner of the table, watching Percy closely.

"Can I help you, Chiron?" Percy asked, too tired for this conversation.

He wished Chiron would just leave him alone. If he hovered for too long, Annabeth would get suspicious and come over. While his girlfriend's presence was always a balm on his soul, he knew she would try to force him to eat and he just . . . he was just too tired.

"We haven't had the chance to talk ever since you returned," Chiron said casually, as if Percy would buy that. His serious brown eyes, full of millenniums of wisdom and sadness, surveyed the demigod.

Percy heard the things Chiron didn't voice—ever since Tartarus, ever since Leo's disappearance, ever since the death of so many of their campers.

"I thought we could chat over dinner," Chiron continued with a pointed look at Percy's food.

Percy didn't look down; the smell alone was nauseating. He wondered if he would feel sick if he had the energy.

"You don't have any food," Percy pointed out with a sigh, leaning forward to rest his head in his hand, elbow propped on the table.

"You eat, I'll just talk," Chiron reasoned, eyebrows raising significantly as he inclined his head towards Percy's utensils, which lay glinting, untouched, in the sunlight.

"Chiron, I don't—" Percy began heavily when a sudden explosion rocked the camp.

Saved by mechanical bulls. Percy took off so fast, he didn't have to see the lines that crinkled around Chiron's mouth as he watched the hero go. 

Fall dawned and waned, winter edging silently closer until snow coated the busy sidewalks and frost nipped at every breath. Percy, tucked in a worn blue sweatshirt that a year ago strained under the bulk of a demigod's hard labor now hung limply around his frame, sat alone in the cafeteria. Annabeth only sometimes came to school; half of the time she was on Mount Olympus, finally allowed to finish that design which was promised to her, sometimes . . . well, sometimes she was more like her boyfriend, the scars of yesterdays weighing too heavily on her mind to weather the mundane triviality that was mortal school.

Percy understood. He didn't blame her for the days she stayed away.

He pushed gray, shapeless food around on his lunch tray and waited for the bell to ring.

"Honey?"

Percy knew his mother was concerned. He stared at the plate she set before him. He had fought monsters and demons, titans and gods themselves but the thought of lifting the fork up to his mouth felt too herculean a task for him to partake. But Sally Jackson's eyes, too bright and full of love, wrinkles of suffering still haunting the eyes that cared for him when no one else would, make him reach for the damned utensil and try.

Screams and echoes reverberated in his ears; all he could taste was ash and blood but he managed to swallow a few morsels before conceding defeat. He kept his head bowed as he set down his fork, unable to watch his mother's heart break.

He remembered standing up. He doesn't remember how he ended up on the ground. He may have passed out. He was pretty sure he'd passed out, except he was weirdly both conscious and unconscious of the fact. His cheek rested flush against the scratchy worn carpet of the apartment floor, his arm uncomfortably tucked underneath his body, his legs tangled in the legs of the chair he tried to leave behind. His heart fluttered anxiously against his chest, briefly, for a moment, before settling down; he didn't have the energy to spare for that sort of excitement.

He was mostly certain he was mostly unconscious; his body was out of commission but his mind didn't quite seem to get the entire memo.

Vaguely, in that half-conscious sort of haze, Percy became aware that someone else was in the apartment. He figured he should be concerned. Annabeth would march straight down to the underworld and kill him again if he managed to get himself killed by a monster because he passed out. He couldn't muster the concern, however, and that annoying whisper in the back of his mind assured him he needn't worry. Which might just be the unconscious part of his brain trying to drag the conscious part under, but . . .

Someone was moving him.

Untangling his legs from the chair, freeing his arm from its awkward position wedged between his ribs. A gentle hand carded through his hair and Percy almost thought Mom before the hand came to rest against his cheek and no, that wasn't right. The hand was too large, too callous and the feel . . . the aura was wrong.

Dad.

My son. The words ghosted across Percy's mind, wavering and just out of reach, like waves crashing before they reached the shore. What good does this do you?

A thumb gently smoothed out the lines of Percy's face, easing the permanently edged scars of hardship into softer arches.

Please eat, my son.

Percy didn't want to eat. It didn't feel right to eat, not with everyone who was dead, everyone he couldn't—

I cannot loss you, my child. Eat. Do not deprive this father of his son.

"Percy?"

Percy blinked. It was dark out. He was pretty sure it had been light before. Sally stared down at him in horror, hastily dropping bags of groceries to the floor as she rushed forward to her son. Percy realized he was on the ground, knees bent and head cushioned on his arms. Maybe he hadn't fallen? Maybe he had just gone to sleep . . . on the floor?

"I'm okay," Percy immediately assured her, pushing himself onto his elbows and blinking back the explosion of stars the sudden exertion caused.

Sally threw herself onto her knees beside him, arms reaching out to help.

"Are you sure, are you okay, did you . . . did you fall?" he could see the fear lurking in her tired, worried eyes.

"I'm okay Mom, it's okay," he soothed, letting her reach out and touch him, holding his arms out for her to cling to.

"How . . . how do you feel?" his mother asked cautiously, not so subtly scanning for injuries.

"I . . ." Percy's brow furrowed. A memory tugged at him, something important but it slipped away, flowing through his grasp and escaping before he could wrap his mind around it. He stared at his mother. "I think I'm hungry."

Chapter Text

Mom worked the late shift on Tuesdays and Thursdays. That was okay, Percy was a big boy. He could reheat the leftover food from the night before (usually mac'n'cheese or canned soup) in the microwave, brush his teeth (sometimes, if he remembered) and put himself to bed. It was easy. He was six years old, a big boy.

Still, Percy thought, clutching the comforter that was older than the boy it wrapped around, it would be nice if Mom were home. He hunkered down in the blanket, trying not to flinch as another clasp of thunder shook the foundation of the old apartment building. He could barely hear himself breath over the torrent of rain that pounded against the window. A flash of lightning brilliantly electrified the night, filling Percy's entire room with its brilliant glow.

Percy couldn't help flinching, his little hands clasping over his ears as the storm carried on.

I'm a big boy, he thought furiously, blinking back tears as he buried his head beneath his stained blue pillow. I'm a big boy and it's just a storm. I'm a big boy.

If Mom were home, he could slip out of bed, creep past Smelly Gabe unconscious on the couch, and make his way to her bed. She would smile at him, pull back the covers so he could curl up beside her steady presence.

"My little hero, come to keep me safe," she would whisper and all the bad things in the world would just melt away.

But Mom worked the late shift on Tuesday and Thursday. Besides, Percy was a big boy. Another clasp of thunder shook the windows; Percy scrunched his eyes tightly shut, hands pressing against his ears as hard as he could, but it didn't seem to matter—the noise rattled through his very bones anyway.

I'm a big boy, I'm a big boy, I'm a big—Mommy!

Percy hiccupped a little, eyes still screwed tightly shut, his knees tucked below his chin. He huddled his shoulders, trying to make himself as small as possible to brace against the terror. . . .

It took the little boy a long while to realize he could no longer hear the thunder roll. Percy's brow furrowed but he didn't quit dare uncurl himself or open his eyes. The seconds ticked by. Never the patient one, even when gripped with terror, Percy slowly removed one hand from his ear.

Silence.

No thunder, not even a splatter of rain. Percy's eyes snapped open. Outside his window, the storm raged on but the most peculiar thing was happening. The rain, which once bounced off his window like angry hordes of bees now . . . missed. It crashed and scattered as if butting against the window but actually stopped short of the pane by a few inches or so.

Percy watched in wonder, hardly able to believe his eyes. He scrambled out of bed and darted to the window, his former terror forgotten in childish amazement. Outside, he could see the rain, saw lightning dance across the sky and debris flying in the wind but . . . he heard nothing. It was almost as if he was caught in a little bubble, a safe harbor from the storm.

Percy's fingers splayed against the cold glass, leaning forward until his nose smooshed against it and his breath fogged the incredible sight into oblivion.

In the living room, Gabe gave a giant snore.

Percy sat watching the storm a while longer before his toes grew cold and the wonder ebbed aside for sleepiness. Little Percy Jackson crawled back into bed, sleepy green eyes still watching the rain.

Percy settled back into bed, pulling the blanket up to his chin, but his little fingers didn't clutch at the fabric. The boy snuggled into his pillow blearily catching his final glimpses of the incredible storm.

Storms aren't so scary, Percy thought with a smile, closing his heavy eyes.

He felt the blanket shift, the edges curling more securely around his slight frame.

"Hm . . . love you, Mom" Percy managed to mutter, too tired to open his eyes.

His mother didn't reply, her hand brushing against his hair but not really touching him before withdrawing, leaving behind blessed silence . . . and the faint smell of the sea.

Chapter Text

"Oh hey, you don't look so good," Paul couldn't help but say as his stepson slithered into the kitchen.

Percy scowled at him, which only served to highlight the bags under his eyes and the sickly pallor of his skin. Paul clicked his tongue sympathetically, pausing in his morning routine to press the back of his hand against Percy's forehead.

"You, my boy, are sick," Paul tsked, smoothing back Percy's sweaty hair from his too hot forehead.

Percy scowled harder, hunching his shoulders in as he gave a rather pathetic cough.

"'M fine."

"No, you're sick," Paul told him firmly, stepping in to stop the demigod from edging further towards the cereal box left on the counter from Paul's breakfast.

It was a testimony to how miserable the boy felt that Percy barely put up a fight, nudging Paul with his shoulder once before giving up, letting his head fall onto Paul's shoulder and giving another nasally cough.

"There, there," Paul said kindly, stumbling a little as he adjusted to his sudden armful of bulky teenager.

"Think you better stay home and rest," Paul advised, patting Percy consolingly on the back of the head.

"'M the hero of Olympus—twice," Percy mumbled into Paul' shirt.

"The hero of Olympus is sick no matter how many times he saved it," Paul said.

He tried to get an arm around Percy's shoulder but the demigod proved utterly unhelpful as he slumped further into Paul, coughing weakly.

"Come on then, Percy, work with me," Paul grunted, shuffling awkwardly as he tried to maneuver the reluctant demigod to the couch.

Percy grumbled but his feet shuffled in the general direction Paul pushed him. He fussed and batted weakly at Paul, but submitted to being forced onto the couch, still giving those weak, sad little coughs.

"No," Percy protested, well, more like whined as Paul pulled a blanket out and advanced on the demigod.

"Paul, I—Paul—I've fought gods."

"Well, everybody has their off days," Paul dismissed as he pinned Percy's flailing limbs to the side and bundled the protesting demigod up in the thick blanket.

He frowned when he realized Percy was too tall for the blanket—his feet stuck out—and left to get reinforcements. As he shifted through the closet in his bedroom, he heard the shower turn off and knew Sally would be out soon. He was already pretty confident he could get Percy to stay home for the day but, well, Percy couldn't say no to Sally so there was always a trump card if the boy protested too much.

"What's going on here?" his wife inquired as she emerged from the shower a moment later to find her boys in the midst of a strangled sort of struggle, Paul managing to pin down Percy's feet and swaddle the last part of the demigod up.

"He made me into a demigod burrito," Percy coughed, reaching out for his mother.

"Put that hand back under the blanket," Paul scolded as Sally gently took her son's hand, leaning down to kiss his forehead.

"Got a bit of a fever there," she said kindly.

"'M fine."

"Of course you are," Sally said in amusement, tucking his arm back under the blanket. "How poorly do you feel?"

"He's sick and not going to school," Paul asserted firmly, not giving Percy the option.

"'M the—"

"—the hero of Olympus, yeah, yeah, I know. You're still not going to school."

The look of fondness Sally gave the pair made Paul's heart swell. He couldn't help sweeping in to kiss her and she gave a laugh, taking him by the hand and leading him towards the door and away from the grumbling teenager.

"You stay there," Paul warned, twisting to wag a finger at the demigod. "I'll be right back. Don't move."

Percy grumbled, wiggling around a bit but he seemed to be snuggling deeper into the cushions as opposed to anything else.

"I have a meeting with my editor today," Sally reminded Paul as they moved towards the entrance of the apartment.

"I remembered, knock 'em dead," Paul enthused, grabbing her coat for her.

"Could you pick up some Tylenol on your way home for Percy? Oh, and probably some soup too, I don't think we have any."

"I'll grab them," Paul promised as Sally starting shrugging into her coat. "But, ah, I think I'll stay home today."

Sally froze midway through donning her coat, concern lighting up her face. "He's not that sick," she said, half in assertion, half in question as she peered around the room at the boy.

"No, no, no he's not, he's fine, just a little fever," Paul quickly assured her, pulling her coat the rest of the way on and smoothing out the shoulders. "I just . . . "

Paul floundered for the right words. He looked over his shoulder at their son, whose head was barely visible over the bundle of blankets. Paul swallowed hard, turning back to stare a little helplessly at his wife.

"I can't help with the . . . the other stuff." Paul let his hands fall to his side. "I can't stop monsters or gods or kidnappings. I can't protect him the horrors that haunt his dreams and I just feel so . . . sometimes I just . . . . " He blinked, hands clenching and unclenching at his side.

"I can help with this," Paul said finally, swallowing hard. "I can help with this."

Sally's eyes were bright.

"Okay," she said and that was all she had to say.

She hugged Paul hard and they just held each other for a while, maybe a little too tightly. Paul buried his face in her hair and tried to focus on her weight against him, the sound of Percy's sad little coughs an oddly soothing background noise.

When Sally finally pulled away, her eyes were a little red. "Call me if you need anything," she said, clearing her throat.

"I will," Paul promised softly, holding the door open for her.

When he made it back to Percy, the demigod was right where he left him. Percy blinked hazily up at Paul, his chin tucked into the blanket and hair mussed. Despite the feverous eyes and pale skin, bundled up as he were and staring sleepily up at Paul, Percy looked . . . warm. Safe. It made Paul's heart ache and he wished with a sudden ferocity that he could keep the boy here forever, warm and safe and taken care of.

"Sleep," Paul instructed, swallowing against his pounding heart. "You can have some soup when you wake up."

Paul waited for comment, sure Percy had worked out by now that Paul wasn't going to work today. Percy's eyes were knowing but he didn't say anything. Instead, his stepson just pulled the blanket all the way up to his nose and hummed.

Paul smiled fondly. Then he picked up Percy's legs and settled down on the couch beside the boy, dropping Percy's legs back down onto his lap.

"'ll get you sick," Percy warned, voice muffled.

"You already coughed all over me," Paul reminded him with a laugh, fishing for the television remote. "Go to sleep, Percy. I'll be here if you need anything."

Chapter Text

There are three of them. One stands tall and proud atop Camp Half-Blood Hill, a beacon of hope and strength. The second stands immediately center stage at the entrance of Olympus, the first thing you see when you step off the elevator. The last stands thirty thousand leagues under the sea, softer than the rest, a son as opposed to a hero. Three statues, each as powerful in their own right as the next: three statues of Percy Jackson.

The Percy that stands at Camp Blood Hill is etched in the camp uniform, jeans and a torn shirt, beads flowing around his neck. Riptide is held before him, his legs braced in preparation for attack. His face contrasts the battle ready stance, kind but stern to welcome the new coming demigods and ward off any enemies that dare brave the likeness of the great demigod. The plaque below his feet serves as a reminder to the camp below of the cost of their freedom and the hero who fell alone for them.

The lieutenant of Artemis, when the Hunt graces the camp's shores, stays by his side. She will smile, a wistful sad thing, and sit by his side. The great satyr with the voice of Pan always greets the statue with a hand upon his cheek, tears in his eyes.

The Percy that stands at Olympus is half turned, head turned towards the sea. There are hard lines on his face, Riptide at his side once more but this time the tip is aimed at the ground. He is clothed in armor except his face, leaving all of Olympus bare for once vibrant eyes to see. The hilt is firmly within his grasp but it is not violent in nature; he is ready but not for battle. He is a reminder to the gods of their duties, of their responsibilities. A reminder of all they owe the demigods.

You can tell guilt often by the gods who walk past him with eyes downcast. Sometimes Hermes or Apollo will stop and stare, a conversation given to unresponsive bronze ears. Life on Olympus goes on.

The final statue resides in his father's throne room. It is the only of the three without a sword. It is also the only one with a smile. This Percy Jackson is mid-step, body leaning to the side as though inviting you forward. His arm is outstretched, palm up and fingers beckoning. His hair stands up, wild and free, giving the illusion that the gentle current that flows around the stone form really ruffles the unruly strands. He smiles at you, a brilliant smile full of love and laughter and all who gaze upon it agree it is the perfect likeness of the demigod at his best, and can't help but love him.

It is Poseidon's most jealously guarded treasure. The lord of the sea spends hours staring at the cold image of his favorite son. The lively, carefree likeness is equal parts blessing and curse. A reminder of what he has lost; the only remnant he has to cling to.

Chapter Text

Some days you just can't win, Percy thought. First, he forgot his math homework. Then he forgot there was an English test. Then Chiron IM'ed him to go check out a potential new demigod in the middle of absolutely nowhere. Not only wasn't the kid a demigod but there was a horde of monsters in the area, probably attracted by the scent of the son of Poseidon in the middle of absolutely nowhere. Go figure. So now, he was cornered in the middle of some muddied field a gazillion miles from nowhere, trusted Riptide at his side but literally nothing else.

He just wanted to go to bed, not get the stuffing beat out of him.

"Oof!" 

A well-landed punch from the giant sent Percy sprawling across the mud, limbs trying to slow his velocity but not finding any traction in the natural slip and slide. He scrambled to his feet in time to stop a fatal stab from a skeleton but not quite fast enough to stop a kick from the stupid giant the skeleton army brought with them.

Percy braced himself against the attack but it seemed the giant was Hades bent on using him like a hacky sack. He would kick the demigod, who managed to protect his vital organs but not much else as he was continuously kicked around. The giant didn't seem like the brightest bulb because he could have easily squashed Percy or something equally gruesome but seemed content instead to keep punting the demigod. The skeletons gave displeasing cries in the background but Percy was too preoccupied to pay them much mind. He had just enough time to realize they were being circled before he was being used as a human soccer ball again. Riptide had long since flown from his hand, and while the faithful sword may have tried to reappear in its wielder's hand, the constant tumbling lost it again.

"Di immortals, stop it!" Percy cried, fed up as he finally managed to land on his feet for once, half crouching as he snarled up at the irksome giant.

Everything hurt. His bruises had bruised and Percy knew he would be feeling that for weeks to come.

"Back-off!" Percy shouted in warning, holding his arm out threateningly.

Riptide hadn't reappeared in his pocket yet but he had the power of the ocean on his side and while he wasn't sure how much good it would do him out here miles from the ocean itself, he was willing to bet he could do some damage. He breathed through the pain, anger boiling in his chest. The skeletons crept closer, eyeless sockets waiting for the right moment to strike. The giant was either too stupid or too arrogant to care about the demigod's anger. It took a limbering step forward.

Percy narrowed his eyes as the giant charged, feet firmly planted to stand his ground. He tugged at his core, drawing on the power of Poseidon that always flickered inside him.

The result wasn't quite what he had expected. Instead of a jet of water that would send the monster head over heels to see how he liked it . . . something else happened. The bones of the skeleton group rattled as the ground beneath their feet gave a low rumble, the muddied grass shaking violently before—

Percy barely had time to think oh, no not good before the ground shifted. Great slabs of rock past one another, coming off the ground sideways to create a massive fissure that tore straight under his adversaries. Percy watched in a mixture of horror and amazement as the (oh gods, his) earthquake wrecked devastation on the muddy field and his enemies.

He barely had time to panic, however, as he was suddenly falling because there was literally no ground beneath his feet anymore. Too surprised to cry out, Percy fell flat on his back, startled but uninjured as the ground gave one last great shudder before falling silent. Percy blinked, staring at his mud-soaked pants. One uncertain hand reached out, patting himself down to make sure all limbs were present and accounted for. He cataloged bruises from his foray with the giant but nothing more.

He angled his head up, staring at the crevice he had created. Percy was neatly tucked on a little ledge four feet or so below the surface. Beneath him the crack dove deep, the depth unintelligible to his mortal eyes. No doubt the monsters fell down there. Percy ran an aching arm through his hair, hysteria bubbling in his chest. He created an earthquake. He created an earthquake. A semi-hysterical choking sound erupted from his lips. Was that Poseidon's idea of helping? Percy was certain it was and the thought brought another semi-hysterical giggle to his lips. He stared up at the level ground barely visible above his ledge. He could definitely pull himself out with little trouble but first . . .

"I think I'll just . . . lay here for a while," Percy decided out loud, hoping Poseidon might catch on to the near heart attack he gave his son. He probably won't, Percy thought with exasperated fondness as he closed his eyes and concentrated on steadying his heart.

Chapter Text

"I hate it when you come to visit," Percy grumbled, rubbing his sore shoulders with a grimace. Thalia snorted, polishing her bow across from him, her feet propped up on the bench beside him, her stupid combat boots basically digging into his thigh. 

"You mean you hate that the Hunt can kick your ass at capture the flag."

"No, I mean you're mean and cause me pain," Percy complained, massaging his sore muscles. "Thalia, I hurt all over. Did you have to push me off the volcano?"

"Did you have to be in my way?" his cousin countered with a shrug. "You're just bitter because you lost."

"Wouldn't have lost if Annabeth were here," Percy grumbled, pulling a stem from his hair and tossing it at Thalia's face because she deserved it. She didn't even react, the twig bouncing uselessly off her shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Thalia dismissed with a wave of her bow, flicking droplets of water onto his face. "You know, I don't think you'd hate it so much if Jason hadn't been on my team."

"He knows full well it was only because of you girls that he won," Percy muttered mutinously, wiping the water from his face as he scowled at the fire. "Annabeth and I pulverize him every time. He was only on the winning team because he let you girls do all the work."

"I was amazing," Thalia agreed with a snort. "And you squealed like a little girl when you fell."

"Reminded me of Tartarus," Percy said absently, moving on to massage his aching calf muscles which had borne the brute of his fall.

Thalia froze in her cleaning efforts, a brief flash of guilt flaring in her eyes.

"But getting beat by Jason is also extremely traumatic," Percy quickly covered up, wincing.

Thalia raised her eyes from the firelight and oh gods she looked chagrined, she was going to apologize, this was bad—

"Well, I hurt everywhere so I'm going to bed," Percy said a little too loudly, rocketing to his feet before she could do something terrible like say she was sorry or worse, promise to never do it again. "Good game, Thalia, we'll beat you when Annabeth gets back, just wait and see. She's the brains you know. Good-night."

Thalia pursed her lips but didn't insult him with an apology as he beat a hasty retreat. He could feel her eyes follow him as he shoved his hands into his pocket and half jogged to cabin three. He pretended to not notice. His legs angrily protested the abuse, his shoulders screaming at his hunched position but Percy ignored the pangs of his body until he was safely behind the closed doors of cabin three. The son of Poseidon collapsed against the door the second it swung shut, heart pounding in his ears

"Ugh, stupid," he berated himself, rubbing a tired hand over his probably still dirt covered face.

He tried to avoid the pity and worries that dodged him and Annabeth ever since their return. He was normally pretty good at it, full of quips and distractions, but tonight that just slipped out. And in front of Thalia too, who wouldn't forget it but neatly catalog the information away for later. He knew he would never topple off that volcano again, via Thalia or anyone else. Not if the overprotective lieutenant had anything to say about it—and Thalia always got Thalia's way.

Percy didn't want to think about whether Thalia's overzealous protection was a good or bad thing (it was probably the latter), or if people would be tiptoeing around him tomorrow so he pushed the thought from his mind. His shoulders twinged, reminding him that he fell off a volcano a mere hour ago and it would like him to maybe stop pressing it again the hard wooden door, thanks. Percy groaned, peeling himself away from the door. In the privacy of his cabin, Percy allowed himself to limp over to his bed. He made it halfway there, absently rubbing his shoulder, when the room suddenly began to change. Percy froze, a tingling sensation running up his spine as he realized his father was reaching out.

The fountain at the foot of Percy's bed began to shimmer. Before the demigod's disbelieving eyes, the edges slowly expanded out, the center column receding into the basin of the fountain. The water churned, beginning to swirl around the deepening confines of the fountain. Although Percy wasn't sure if he could call it a fountain anymore as the structure grew larger and larger. Finally, the changes came to a halt. Percy blinked at the newly formed structure as he crept forward. The ex-fountain was now larger and deeper, big enough that Percy could comfortably fit inside. The water was swirling and bubbling, steam wafting off the surface in enticing wisps.

It was basically a hot tub. In the middle of his cabin.

Percy laughed in wondrous disbelief, ignoring the pain in his legs as he crouched down to examine it closer. He dipped his finger into the comfortably warm water. Yep, it was basically a hot tub all right. Near giddy in excitement, Percy quickly stripped off his clothes and threw them carelessly across the room. He sank into the newly formed hot tub, sinking down until his abused limbs were totally covered and he was up to his chin in delightfully warm and soothing water.

"Hmmmm," Percy moaned as his sore muscles greedily soaked up the soothing water.

Not hindered by the pesky inability to breathe underwater, Percy fully submerged himself in the bath, settling at the bottom of the tub and stretching his battered limbs out. It was heaven. The tight, aching muscles all over his body rejoiced. It was hard to feel anything other than relaxed as the bubbles caressed his bumps and bruises, the calm flow of the water swirling over his head, the rush of the water music against his ears.

"Hmm," Percy repeated, closing his eyes and laying his head on his arm. He decided he could worry about Thalia and any potential disgusting pity-driven tiptoeing that might happen tomorrow well, tomorrow. For now, though, he was going to enjoy this glorious moment.

"Thanks, Dad."

Chapter Text

The monster lunged at Tyson, so naturally, Percy didn't hesitate to step between his brother and the threat. The weird long-tongued monster didn't stand a chance. Riptide sliced through it before its teeth were anywhere near Percy — although the same couldn't be said for its gross tongue.

"Oh, disgusting," Percy complained, wiping gross monster slobber from his cheek. "You alright there big guy?"

Percy cleaned his hand on his jeans, calling over his shoulder as he twisted to face his brother. He barely completed the turn; his legs didn't quite want to cooperate. Riptide fell from his fingers and Percy didn't even have the time to feel alarmed before he was falling. He landed in a crumpled heap in the dirt, knees bent awkwardly, one arm spread out, the other trapped beneath his body. Percy blinked in shock, trying to push himself to his feet but his index finger only twitched . . . and nothing else.

What the hades? Percy thought, too shocked to register any other emotion.

"Yes, I'm—Percy?" Tyson's brow furrowed as he finished the last monster and stumbled back to answer his brother.

"Percy?" he repeated uncertainly, taking a hesitant step forward and almost stepping on Percy's arm.

"Percy!" Tyson cried in alarm, blinking down at the fallen demigod when he realized the weird squishy thing below his feet was actually his missing brother. "Brother, where are you hurt?"

Tyson dropped to his knees beside Percy, frantically patting the demigod over. He rolled Percy onto his back and Percy's limbs flopped around not unlike a ragdoll, heading bobbing uselessly and there wasn't a thing Percy could do to stop it.

"Percy?" Tyson worried after a thorough investigation of Percy's person revealed no pressing injuries.

"Percy?" Tyson repeated apprehensively, leaning over Percy's face, anxiety clear in his wide eye. Percy blinked up at him.

"Why won't you move, brother?" Tyson fretted, giving Percy a little shake.

Percy could only blink up at him, a vague feeling of panic bubbling in his chest. He remembered the gross slimy tongue of the monster and wondered if saliva could cause paralysis. It wouldn't surprise him; the real question was how long would it last? That was a frightening thought and something must have shown in his eyes because Tyson was shushing and patting Percy's head in what he clearly thought was a soothing manner but really wasn't.

"It's okay, it's okay," Tyson repeated near frantic, clearly thinking hard as he looked all around. "No Annabeth, no camp, no Daddy. Need to find water or, or Annabeth, or camp."

Camp, Percy wanted to say but of course, nothing came out because he literally couldn't move anything. Except for his eyes apparently which was decidedly useless. A fat wet droplet fell on Percy's face. For a horrible moment, he thought Tyson was crying. Then one fell on Tyson's head and the cyclops looked up in surprise. Another drop fell square on Percy's nose.

Then it began to pour.

Great just great, Percy thought, near hysterical. Of course, it would start to rain. Rain splashed against his face, getting into his open mouth. Percy's heart leapt in his chest, his breathing constricting as he instantly tried to turn away and found his body still couldn't respond. Oh gods, Percy thought, panic truly settling into his heart. Oh gods, he was utterly hopeless, totally vulnerable, he was going to drown in the rain because the Fates were nothing if not ironic, this was it, this was—

The rain suddenly stopped hitting his face. Percy blinked up his brother, who hunched protectively over the demigod, large callused hands fisted in Percy's shirt.

"I got you," Tyson sniffled, looking frightened and miserable but it was with great care that he reached out to gently close Percy's open mouth.

Percy's heart calmed a little. Tyson was there. Tyson wouldn't let anything happen to him.

"Camp, water, Annabeth," Tyson repeated to himself, looking frightened but determined. "Don't worry brother, we'll fix this. It will be okay."

Tyson turned his head towards the clouds, then blinked his great eye down at Percy.

"Okay, I have to move you," Tyson warned. "We need to find help and get out the rain so I have to pick you up, okay?"

That sounded humiliating, Percy thought but his body remained utterly unresponsive. He could only stare at his brother, heart pounding in his chest. The need to move, to do something, to force his body to obey dammit, thrummed through Percy's veins and he couldn't quell the panicked sick feeling that had settled inside him. It was the worst feeling in the world to have no control of his body as Tyson leaned down and carefully picked his brother up. Tyson was infinitely gentle, crossing Percy's hands over his chest and lifting the demigod off the ground. Percy's head bobbed for only a moment before Tyson carefully repositioned so Percy was cradled against him like an infant.

Horrifying, utterly horrifying Percy thought as Tyson began to jog down the muddied path. Percy wasn't entirely sure where they were heading and it wasn't like he could open his cursed mouth and ask.

Rain pelted against his face, legs swinging back and forth, and there was absolutely nothing Percy could do. Tyson winced every time he stumbled, Percy's head bumping against his collarbone or worse, lobbing uncomfortably forward for a moment before Tyson could righten him again.

"Sorry, sorry," Tyson would mutter but all Percy could do was stare at his rain-drenched shirt.

Percy only got a vague glimpse of the world as Tyson jogged, snatches of blurry colors that didn't lend him enough information to glean where they were heading. It had been nearly dusk when the monsters attacked—it would be dark soon. In the privacy of his mind (not that he could vocalize the thoughts even if he wanted to) Percy had to admit the entire experience was utterly terrifying. Right up there with falling into Tartarus except maybe almost worse because at least in Tartarus he had some semblance of control over the situation (he also had Annabeth, which made any situation bearable).

The rain suddenly stopped hitting his face. Percy blinked, mostly because that was all he was capable of. Tyson slowed, ducking low underneath something and thwack. Percy couldn't even flinch, his body horrifyingly pliant as a branch whipped across his cheek.

"Sorry, sorry," Tyson fretted, patting Percy's cheek anxiously.

They were in a forest, Percy realized. Tyson had ducked into a forest. Whether it was to shelter them against the rain or because they undoubtedly looked odd, Percy boneless and being carried by the cyclops, Percy wasn't sure but he figured it was for the best either way. The sun had begun to set. Soon, Percy knew, he wouldn't be able to see anything at all.

Tyson kept moving on. He tried to protect Percy from the debris of the forest the best he could, but between maneuvering his own bulky body around, keeping Percy's head steady, and trying to stop invasive branches, well, he was having a hard time of it.

Percy mentally flinched when Tyson hit something, causing the cyclops to stumble forward and almost drop his brother.

"I've got you, I've got you," Tyson gasped, tightening his grasp on Percy as he valiantly hung onto his brother through the near fall.

He sounded exhausted and frightened, Percy thought with a pang of guilt, wishing he could say something to assay the sniffling that had begun above him.

"I'm sorry, brother, I'm sorry," Tyson repeated miserably, still sniffling as he shifted, coming slowly to his knees than sitting back on his feet on the cold, wet forest floor. "I'm tired and I cannot carry you any further tonight."

He sniffled miserably some more, careful not to drip any snot on Percy as he shivered in the damp night. Percy decided that hearing Tyson cry and sound so afraid was actually worse than not being able to move. He wanted to assure Tyson that it was okay, he was doing his best, Percy knew he had his back, but all he could do was blink repeatedly into his brother's shoulder.

Tyson shrugged his knapsack off his back, laying it on the ground. After a brief and awkward struggle, he managed to pull his jacket off without letting go of Percy, laying that down on the soggy forest floor. Then he gently, ever so gently, positioned Percy on the makeshift bed, carefully ensuring that Percy's head was properly cushioned and as much of his upper body on the coat as possible. As his brother fritted and fussed, Percy's heart swelled with affection for his poor, goofy, sweet, gentle giant of a brother.

He tried to convey this thought through rapid eye movements, but he must have looked like he was having a seizure or something because instead of being comforting or conveying some weird morris code-esque message of brotherly love, it made Tyson squeak and renew his worrying. Percy wanted to scream as the fussing began again but of course his head simply bobbed to the side with doll-like complacency as Tyson fretted anxiously over him.

"The ocean is close," Tyson promised. "I can get us there tomorrow, I promise, I promise. And, and I promise I won't let any monster get close. I'll be good, I'll watch out."

He gave a great sniffle, his giant hands smoothing and resmoothing out the wrinkles in Percy's shirt. Percy hated how sad and pathetic he looked, tears welled up in his great eye and periodically sniffling in misery. Like seriously, it was one thing for a monster to attack them, that was like normal, but this was unreasonably cruel. What kind of horrible monster made Tyson cry? Percy hoped wherever in the underworld it was right now, it was utterly miserable. He was fairly certain he could ask Hazel or Nico and the message would be gladly passed along to Hades because who didn't love Tyson?

Granted Percy would have to regain movement again to be able to pass along the message, but the potential permanence of his situation was a possibility he wasn't remotely willing to consider. So instead he focused on Tyson. The cyclops had calmed a little. He curled around his brother, slowly sliding down from a seated position to something half slumped over . . . to, eventually, laying on his side, head resting on the backpack next to Percy, one hand clutched in his brother's shirt.

Percy wanted to reach out and soothe him, to push wet hair out of his face like Sally did when he was little and make reassuring noises . . . .

Percy didn't remember dozing off. But he started awake with a racing heart, panic lodged in his throat as his consciousness went from zero to one hundred in half a second, violently reminding him danger, cannot protect self, why are you sleeping?!

Tyson muttered sleepily next to him, face buried in Percy's hair and hand still tightly clinging to his shirt. He looked like an extremely oversized, one-eyed toddler. Or like a normal cyclops toddler maybe. Whatever. He looked adorable except for the obvious redness around his eyes that reminded Percy that, yes, he had been crying last night.

"Ty—" The sound rasped from Percy's lips and he wasn't sure who was more surprised, himself or Tyson.

The sound roused his brother immediately, who shot up so fast nearby birds squawked in displeasure, taking to the skies.

"Danger? Danger?" Tyson asked, eye wild as his head whipped around, scanning for the trouble.

"'S'k, 's'k," Percy tried to placate and he moved.

Okay, not like a whole lot but, still he moved and the pathetic little flop of his hand tugging weakly at Tyson's shirt made his heart soar, thank the gods.

Tyson's eye snapped to Percy.

"Brother?" His eye burned bright with hope as he leaned over Percy.

"H-hey," Percy croaked, struggling valiantly to make his muscles obey.

"Brother!" Tyson cried and threw himself at Percy, snatching the demigod up into a bone-crushing hug.

"A-ah." Percy's mouth made noises that were half in pain, half meant to be reassuring like yes I am alive and moving.

Tyson pulled back to anxiously scan Percy, his momentary joy morphing back into fretful anxiety as he began to fuss once more.

"Ocean not far, I can still carry you, what hurts, what can you move, did I hurt you—?"

"Shh," Percy reassured hoarsely. He forced his sluggish face to cooperate, managing to pull up half a smile. "Th-th-thank 'ou."

Tyson's eye shone with tears. "Glad you're safe, brother."

"'Ou keep 'e saf'."

"We keep each other safe," Tyson corrected solemnly, then tried to break Percy's shine again.

Chapter Text

It was only the third time Percy had ever been shot down while riding Blackjack. He wondered if that was a heartening statistic or not, then decided that it didn't matter either way. Annabeth would kill him regardless.

Besides, shot down seemed to imply that it was Percy himself who had been shot and not the real casualty of this story: Blackjack.

"There, there, buddy," Percy soothed, finishing up his makeshift bandage on the pegasus's wing.  

The arrow had torn clean through his faithful stead's wing, lodging firmly in the flank of the gentle beast. Percy had been hesitant to pull it out, but with Blackjack moaning and writhing, forcing the arrow in deeper and deeper with every convulsion, he had finally given in and disposed of the cursed thing.

Which left them in their current position: Blackjack too injured to fly or walk, Percy too injured to walk for help. Not that anyone nearby would be much help. They had been flying over Montana of all places. A place short in supply not only of demigods but regular normal people as well. Because that was just Percy's luck. The only saving grace was that Blackjack managed to stay afloat and get them several miles out of danger before tumbling out of the sky. So it was highly unlikely their monstrous pursuers would be able to find them.

Small miracles.

"Annabeth will find us and we'll be able to get you out of here," Percy soothed Blackjack, scratching him gently behind one great ear.

Oh boss, I really messed up, Blackjack lamented.

"You didn't mess up—"

I fell on you.

"Only a little. A little ambrosia and I'll be right as rain. It's not even really broken I don't think."

His leg ached something fierce but as someone who had broken his fair share of bones in his rather violent life, Percy was nearly positive of this fact. It wasn't strong enough for him to go gallivanting off to see if there was a nearby farmer who could provide them shelter. Montana had a lot of farmers, right? Percy felt like that was a thing. They would have food for Blackjack and a warm place for his poor Pegasus to lay. 

Percy doubted they would get so lucky. He absently rubbed at his arms, holding back a shiver from the chill of the night. He had a coat but it suffered substantial damage from the attack earlier as well as their impromptu meeting with the ground. It was the dead of winter and he dreaded the final setting of the sun, doubting his coat would succeed in warding off the chill.

Boss, you, you should go see if there are some humans nearby, man there have to be, and they can keep you warm until the demigods show up, I'll be fine, boss, really—

"I'm not leaving you," Percy firmly asserted for the hundredth time that night. "We'll be fine, stop your worrying."

Blackjack shifted anxiously. His wing had to be causing him pain and Percy only wished there was something he could do about it. The pegasus didn't say anything about it, however, but bravely ignored it.

At least come here, boss, I can keep you warm.

Percy looked over at the pegasus. Blackjack flapped his good wing impatiently, tossing his great head back in annoyance when Percy didn't immediately hobble over.

C'mon, boss, c'mon, you'll freeze to death and then where would I be?

"Someone would come get you," Percy huffed, but the cold of the night was sinking into his damaged coat and he couldn't quell the shivers that shook his body so he didn't put up much of a fight.

He shuffled closer to Blackjack and let the great horse settle his undamaged wing around his lord's son. Percy leaned against Blackjack, wrapping his own arms around himself as he unabashedly curled into the warm pegasus.

Don't say things like that, Blackjack scolded, twisted his head around to gently nip at Percy's hair. Boss, I don't know what I'd do without you. Also, your dad would turn me into glue.

"No he wouldn't," Percy denied, although he wasn't entirely certain. He paused, frowning as he realized Blackjack was shaking.

"Blackjack, you're shivering."

Just a little boss, don't worry about me, it's the wing mostly ya know, it just hurts a spot, nothing to go worrying about—

"Too late for that," Percy groaned and he tried to push Blackjack's wing off of him.

Wait, stop, boss, where are you going—

"I'm going to see if I can find a nearby farmer, there has to be one around here somewhere—"

On that leg? Boss, you know you can't walk on that leg and what happens if you get too cold? You'll freeze to death, no, no stay here and I can keep you warm.

They bickered for a while, Blackjack effectively trapping the demigod between his wing and body, refusing to let him out. The sun set on their struggle, taking with it the lingering warmth in the air.

Hey, hey boss? Blackjack asked uncertainly.

"Hm?" Percy asked.

He was too tired to really fight with the pegasus anymore. Besides, as much as he hated to admit it, Blackjack had a point. He couldn't walk very fast on his leg and with the increasingly falling temperature, he wasn't sure if he could ever make it far enough to find help.

Should have left earlier, Percy thought guiltily.

Boss you're bein' awful quiet, Blackjack said hesitantly. And you're shaking a lot.

"Just a little c-cold," Percy denied, burrowing deeper into his faithful companion. Blackjack was definitely warm, but the feathers of his wing let the biting wind through.

Boss, Blackjack began again only to falter.

"I'm f-fine, Blackjack," Percy repeated firmly, tucking his hands under his arms to try and conserve heat.

He blearily stared out at the desolate plain before them. Not a soul in sight. No monsters, no demigods to the rescue. No random farmers come to save the day.

"How l-long you f-figure until the sun c-comes back?"

Soon, boss, soon, Blackjack lied.

"Liar," Percy muttered fondly, closing his eyes.

Hey, hey boss, stay awake yeah? Blackjack said nervously, giving his flank a gentle shake. C'mon boss, talk to me, yell at me, somethin'.

"'S still not your f-fault," Percy muttered.

I know, I know, I promise to stop blaming myself, if you stay awake boss okay?

Percy hummed, not quite committed to the promise when he suddenly . . .

"Do you f-feel that?" Percy asked, an awareness creeping along his consciousness, rousing him into a semi-alert state.

What, what is it, boss? Blackjack's head snapped up, anxiously scanning the horizon.

"I . . . I'm not s-sure," Percy said, forcing his half-frozen fingers to reach into his pocket for Riptide.

Wait, wait, I see something, Blackjack said, falling silent when a mass appeared on the horizon.

The sensation in the back of Percy's mind took shape as the mass drew closer and Percy couldn't help a choked sort of laughter that escaped his shivering lips.

"H-horses," Percy croaked as he watched in wonder as the thundering herd galloped across the plain.

Blackjack said nothing at all, too amazed by the sight before them. The wild horses threw their heads back, snorting in the cold December air. They slowed as they approached the stunned, fallen pair. At the helm of the herd, a tall, black stallion, magnificent and beautiful, rolled its eyes and gave an angry bray before coming closer. He sniffed once, almost hesitating, before thrusting his nose forward to inspect the son of Poseidon.

Unlike Blackjack's thoughts, which Percy could hear as clearly and coherently as human speech, the thoughts of the creature before him were fragmented, more wisps of sensations, unnamed emotions, and blurry pictures than actual words. But Percy got the gist of what the horse was trying to convey.

"I'm o-okay," Percy assured it with a breathless, wondering laugh, reaching a shaking out to gently stroke the majestic horse's nose.

No, he's not—sorry boss. He's cold and he needs to be warm.

"Blackjack—"

The horse threw its head back, then pressed it closer. The rest of the herd took this as an invitation and suddenly three dozen or so horses were all scrambling to get as close as possible. The first stallion settled down right next to Blackjack, reaching out to nuzzle against the top of Percy's head.

"W-what are they d-doing?"

Keeping you warm, boss, Blackjack said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Percy huffed, smiling despite himself. He let the stallion nuzzle him, the horse's body a convenient shield against the cold wind.

"T-thank you," Percy whispered, letting his head fall back onto Blackjack as the herd settled in around them, all humming worried, loving thoughts.

How did they know to find us? Blackjack wondered, gratefully nuzzling a little mare as it curled up beside him.

Percy looked up at the sky. "Someone's watching over me, I guess."

And he smiled.

Chapter Text

They found him in a field a mile or so out of town. An off-duty nurse noticed him on her drive home after a grueling ten-hour shift. Something in the air hadn't felt entirely right and she found herself warily scanning her surroundings. Tired eyes fell on the bloodied, prone figure and instinct kicked in.

They put him under Doe, John, approx. 16-18yro and alerted the local police.

Doe, John, approx. 16-18yro had a suspected concussion, lacerations on his left arm and upper torso, two requiring stitches (eighteen in all), multiple minor hematomas, and a sprained ankle. They attached an IV with the appropriate medicine after stitching the lacerations up and left him in a darkened room while they awaited the police's arrival.

The police weren't the first to arrive. Nurses and doctors bustled about, completely unaware of the sudden appearance of a man in the room of Doe, John, approx. 16-18yro.

Poseidon stood over his son's unconscious form.

"Percy," he rumbled softly, reaching out but not quite daring to touch the demigod for fear of waking him. Zeus may not notice a quick visit to an unconscious child, but he would surely take notice were Percy to wake.

His son's injuries were not substantial. With a little ambrosia, all the mortal fussing would be rendered unnecessary but, still, Poseidon couldn't help but be a little grateful for the precious moments they stole for him. He knew the daughter of Athena and the other seven searched for his son and they would find him eventually. Percy would be fine and hearty in a manner of hours undoubtedly. Poseidon supposed on some level it was selfish of him to deny Percy quick relief to his injuries, but gods were nothing if not invariably selfish and he gladly traded the hours of relative discomfort for this time with his son.

Percy gave a low groan and Poseidon froze as hazy green eyes flickered open. He nearly vanished, leaving the demigod to his confusion except . . . Percy's brow puckered, head cocked to the side as he stared hazily up at Poseidon. He didn't look entirely there, a point reinforced when Percy's eyes left the god to give the room a courtesy glance over. Evidently not finding anything alarming, Percy's eyes returned to Poseidon with that same semi-conscious glean.

"You," Percy slurred mildly. "Look familiar."

Poseidon's eyes flickered to the IV drip attached to his son's arm, following the line up to the hanging medicine bag at his bedside.

"Have you ever been administered pain medication before?" Poseidon asked, thinking he knew the answer.

"What?" Percy asked, sleep addled and confused. He tried to shift, found himself hindered by the blanket and the brace the doctors forced on him and paused.

"Ouch," he said in a rather delayed and almost detached manner that nearly made the god smile. "Why do things hurt?"

"You're in the hospital," Poseidon informed him.

Percy's eyes widened in surprise. "Am I?" His head turned, looking genuinely shocked to find the IV and heart monitor beside him.

"I don't need to be at the hospital," Percy said earnestly, turning back to Poseidon.

"No, you don't," Poseidon agreed, amused. "But let's keep that to ourselves, shall we?"

"You look familiar," Percy repeated, head cocking to the side not unlike a puppy as he surveyed his father, easily abandoning his former train of thought for what he knew to be the more important one even if he couldn't remember exactly why.

"I rather expect I do, yes," Poseidon affirmed, his lips twitching as his son's evidently drug-addled mind tried to make sense of his situation.

Of course, Percy would have an extreme reaction to mortal medication. Demigods never had the occasion or really the access to mortal medicine. Why take painkillers when you had ambrosia? Poseidon thought for a moment then took a seat beside his bewildered child. Percy watched him with hazy eyes, but his body was relaxed. He knew, even if he couldn't exactly remember why, that Poseidon was safe. That made Poseidon smile in earnest, leaning forward to survey the demigod.

Percy's eyes had trouble focusing and his features were relaxed in a way they hadn't been in years, senses and natural anxieties dulled by mortal medicine. Poseidon doubted he would even have the capacity to remember this meeting once the medicine wore off.

"I know you," Percy mused, more a declaration than a question.

"You do," Poseidon agreed. "But try not to think too hard on it or I shall have to leave."

"Hm, don't want you to leave," Percy mused in that same lazy, careless tone but the words made Poseidon's heart clench.

The freely given words, even if Percy wasn't entirely cognizant of what he was saying or who he was talking to, held an inherent truth in them, a vulnerability Percy would never have expressed were it not for the drugs.

"I don't want to either," Poseidon gently assured him.

He wondered if he dared to reach out and sooth back Percy's sleep mused hair. He decided he didn't, clasping his hands before him to quell the very human urge to touch the son of his. Percy continued to watch him in a sort of hazy amusement, smiling carelessly and genially at his father, utterly unconcerned, unafraid.

"I'll stay for a while," Poseidon promised softly, "if you talk."

"Talk? About what?" Percy asked with a laugh, looking wild and silly and Poseidon almost stole him. Grabbed him and whisked him away to where nobody could ever find him, nobody could ever hurt him or make him look any way other this (wild, careless, happy) ever again.

"Anything, everything," Poseidon dismissed, not caring.

"Hm, okay then," Percy laughed again. "Hey, hey, have you ever tried blue chocolate chip cookies? Man, they are the best. I can't remember why, but I know they are. Have you ever made them? I think my mom makes them, but I can't really remember. Oh, or have you ever—"

When the police finally arrived an hour later, a frazzled blonde teenager girl in their wake, Percy had fallen asleep. He slept peacefully, a smile on his face.

Chapter Text

Percy had been left in the lobby with strict instructions not to move by his frazzled but otherwise unharmed girlfriend before she ran off to help literally put out fires around the building.

In hindsight, maybe having all of the seven gathered together in one concentrated area outside of camp wasn't the smartest decision in the world; but, then again, it was pretty stupid of the monsters to attack the seven. Really, it was just an unavoidable evil in their lives and Percy really didn't regret it. He just wished they hadn't run out of ambrosia. But it was fine, Percy wasn't that hurt. He'd just been thrown back a few feet and broke his fall with his head. So, concussed but in all seriousness totally fine. He just maybe saw a little double and his words slurred a bit but Annabeth was overreacting.

He crossed his ankles and stared up at the ceiling as he listened idly to Annabeth and Jason calling back and forth. ("Where is Percy, he could put these fires out—" "Grab a bucket and fill it Grace, you lazy, ungrateful brat. So help me if you go and bother Percy when you gave Piper the rest of the ambrosia." "She needed it—" "Her cut wasn't that bad!" "It really wasn't Jason, you did overreact a little. I didn't realize it was all we had, Annabeth, I'm sorry." "It's not your fault—")

Percy hummed to himself, grinning up at the ceiling as everyone ganged up on poor Jason. Honestly, Percy was on Jason's side for once. Percy didn't blame him one bit. He wouldn't hesitate to do the same thing if it were Annabeth. Still, it was always fun to hear Jason get yelled at. Percy would come to his rescue as soon as Annabeth let him sit up again.

"Hey Perce, how ya feeling?"

"Hmm?" Percy turned his head, squinting through his double vision to peak at whichever of the seven abandoned their thankless task of cleaning up after the monsters to keep him company.

He had to cross his eyes and squint to force his vision to make sense of the person standing before him and even then, he blinked several times before he managed to convince himself that yes, that was indeed—

"G-man!" Percy cried in delight.

Indeed it was the satry, smiling somewhat sadly down at his old friend.

"Percy, what did you do?" Grover asked, somewhat exasperatedly as he leaned down to inspect the demigod.

"Hit my head, Annabeth thinks—"

"Annabeth knows you have a concussion," Grover interrupted firmly. "She told me I could come check on you instead of helping out. You know, to make sure you don't do anything stupid."

"Won't do anything stupid," Percy huffed, which earned him a look.

"But hey, man, it's good to see you!" Percy said before Grover could lecture him. "Man, I haven't seen you in forever, miss you, dude."

Grover shifted on his hooves, his brow wrinkling a little. "Yeah, I'm sorry Percy. I just . . . with the whole—I always mean to stop in more and see you, especially after what happened but—"

Grover trailed off, hands clenching and unclenching at his side.

"Hey G-man, don't worry about it," Percy dismissed, trying to sit up.

"No, no, no," Grover fussed, forcing Percy to lay back down. "Annabeth said you're not supposed to move."

"You're no fun," Percy complained but allowed himself to be wrangled back into a supine position. "I'm fine, I feel fine, my head isn't bleeding, and there are only kind of two of you."

"Only kind of," Grover repeatedly dryly, moving so he was sitting cross-legged on the floor.

His face was exasperated but there was a fondness to the tug of his lips, and a sadness around the corner of his eyes as he gently moved Percy's head onto his lap, searching for further injuries.

"I just told you I was fine," Percy complained, batting at Grover's hands but only half-heartedly, more or less giving into the fussing.

"Yeah, I just wanted to check." Grover kept up his investigation until he was satisfied Annabeth hadn't missed anything (which was unlikely seeing as this was Percy and Annabeth would never allow herself to miss anything).

Percy crossed his hands over his chest, eyebrows raised in amusement as he watched Grover.

"Finished?"

"No more damaged than usual, I guess."

"Yeah," Percy grinned, a little cross-eyed. There were dark circles around his eyes, new scars around the edge of his face that Grover took in with worried eyes.

"You gonna stay around for a while?" Percy asked hopefully.

"Yeah, yeah I'll be around for a while Perce," Grover promised. "Somebody has to keep you out of trouble. Guess I haven't been doing a very good job lately."

Percy's answering smile was both sad and understanding. "It's fine, Grover. I understand. Besides, Annabeth's not half bad at keeping me out of trouble. I'm just glad you were able to swing by."

"Yeah, me too, Perce. Me too."

Chapter Text

Percy hadn't slept in three days. He only had a total of ten hours the three before that. Percy currently sat cross-legged in the middle of his ruffled but unslept-in bed, head in his hands, fingers buried in his hair.

"When will Annabeth be back?" Paul whispered, hand on his wife's shoulder as they gazed in parallel concern at their son. They stood in the doorway of Percy's room, Sally cradling a coffee mug in one hand. She had made a cup of chamomile and lavender tea, although she knew Percy probably wouldn't drink it.

"I don't know," Sally said with a sigh. She gently removed Paul's hand from her shoulder, kissing his palm before releasing him and stepping into the darkened room.

"Hey honey," she whispered as she approached the hunched over figure of her son.

"Hm?" Percy lifted his head enough to blink up at his mother. Sally's heart clenched at the sight of her baby, his skin ashen and eyes dull. His eyelids faltered, dropping a fraction before lifting again, consciousness fighting against itself as he mustered a minute smile.

"Hi Mom," he whispered back, his inflection born of exhaustion.

"Oh baby," Sally tried to put on a brave face as she sat next to him. "Do you want to try some tea? It's supposed to help."

Percy stared at the cup for a long moment.

"Okay."

Sally waited, taking in the hard lines of her baby's face, the gray streak in his hair. Eventually, it occurred to him that he needed to reach out in order to drink the tea. He slowly pulled himself up, weaning his head off his hands. He considered, then left one hand under his chin to support himself and reached out with the other to accept the tea. Sally closed his fingers around the cup, helping Percy navigating the rim to his mouth so he could take a sip.

"It won't help."

"Maybe not," Sally agreed with a sigh. "Chamomile and lavender were created to ward off stress from work and school, not the depths of hell itself I suppose."

Percy cracked a grin at that, head lopping to the side as he surveyed his mother with adoration and affection. "Yeah, guess not."

He teetered and Sally hastily set the cup aside to catch Percy as he listed to the side. Percy collapsed against his mother, head finding the curve of her throat.

"Hm . . . sorry."

"It's okay, love," Sally assured him, cupping the back of his head and combing her fingers through his hair.

Percy grunted, moving as though to righten himself.

"It's okay, Percy, it's okay," Sally shushed, kissing the top of her son's head. She kept her lips pressed to the crown of his head.

"Hm . . . okay."

Percy stayed silent for a moment then squirmed a little to curl into his mother, leaning fully into her as though he were a child once more.

And really, Sally realized with a pang, he was. He was still a child. More importantly, he was her child.

"I've got you, baby," she whispered, gently rocking him back and forth. "I've got you."

Percy hummed, a half-conscious rumbling sound. Sally closed her eyes, feeling helpless and angry and so full of love for the boy in her arms that it almost hurt. Percy's breath ghosted against his mother's shoulder, evening out with every exhale.

When Paul came around to check back in on the pair, he found the mother-son duo sound asleep, Percy still curled into Sally and Sally's arms wrapped protectively around him.

Chapter Text

Paul woke to a silent apartment. There was nothing inherently unusual about that. In the distance, he could see hear the backdrop of city life as the city that never slept lived up to its name, but within the confines of their little apartment, all was still and quiet. Sally slept peacefully beside him. Paul gently detangled himself both from her embrace and the blankets, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead as he padded out of their bedroom.

The last year had been wrought with many sleepless nights. At least now they knew where the boy that should sleep in the room beside them was. Or that he had the freedom to be there, Paul corrected as he peeked into his stepson's room. The sight of the empty bed had caused much anxiety and heartache months before. Now, the sight of the mussed blankets, pillow thrown across the room, caused anxiety and heartache for an entirely different reason.

"Percy?" Paul tried softly, unsure where his stepson was but equally certain that if he was within hearing range Percy would answer.

Sure enough, there was a moment of silence before Percy's window open and the boy pulled himself through.

"Percy," Paul half-chastised, half-fretted as he instinctively moved forward. "That's not safe, it rained yesterday."

The words fell off Paul's lips as he reached out to help Percy back inside the room and the irony of them didn't settle in until Percy rose an eyebrow. Paul supposed sitting on the fire escape was marginal on the list of dangerous things his stepson had done but still. Percy didn't call Paul out on it, merely shrugging with a "sorry" as his feet touched the carpet again. He looked exhausted, but more telling to his stepson's dilemma was the way his eyes flickered around the room, canvassing every corner, fingers clenched tightly at his side.

Nightmare. Again. That seemed to be the only way Percy slept anymore, if sleeping was even what you could call it.

"Want me to make you some tea?" Paul asked uncertainly, not sure what else to do.

"It's fine," Percy said, absently reaching out to touch Paul on the arm.

He'd been doing that a lot since he returned, almost unconsciously reaching out as if to assure himself that they were real and not figments of his imagination. It made Paul's heart clenched, his fingers flexing in distress of their inadequacy to fix this, to make the nightmares and the pain go away.

"C'mon, just one cup," he pressed, ushering Percy gently out of the bedroom.

Percy made no response but let himself be guided to the couch, eyes warily taking in the shadows of the apartment, muscles wound tightly. His knees locked up for a moment when Paul tried to get him to sit. Percy grabbed Paul's elbow, looking a little wild for a moment before he realized there was no danger and, grimacing, sat of his own accord.

"Sorry."

"It's alright," Paul promised.

He bustled off to the kitchen, making a quick cup of tea before returning to find Percy exactly where he left him: sitting ramrod straight on the couch, eyeing the television as though he expected a monster to pop out any moment.

"Here." Paul pressed the cup into Percy's hand and the boy took it with half an apologetic smile.

Percy methodically drained the cup, body held stiffly and eyes ceaselessly flickering around the apartment. He seemed to be humoring Paul more than anything and when he began to stand to put away the cup, Paul took it from him and set it aside on the end table.

"Is there . . . is there anything I can—?"

"No Paul it's fine," Percy said in a flat tone.

"Well, it's really not."

"I know." Percy gave him half a smile. "Go to bed, Paul."

"I'd rather stay here, if it's all the same with you."

Percy gave a little huff, smiling down at his hands. "Alright then."

"Why don't you try laying down?" Paul suggested. "With your back to the couch."

So you can still keep an eye on the room, went unsaid.

Percy thought about it. "Okay."

Paul began to stand but Percy shifted on the couch, pulling his legs up and . . . plopping his head right onto Paul's leg, knees bending to an undoubtedly uncomfortable degree to fit his lanky frame into the tight space. Paul froze in surprise, hand hovering in the air as he stared wide-eyed down at the demigod. Percy seemed to recognize his discomfort a moment later because he started to move, a flush spreading across his cheeks. Paul recovered himself quickly, carding his fingers through Percy's hair once before resting them on the curve of his shoulder.

"Go to sleep," Paul whispered. "I'll watch out for you."

"Hm," Percy muttered, still blushing faintly in embarrassment over his moment of neediness.

Paul wished he could say something to dispel the embarrassment but felt that anything he might say would just embarrass Percy more so he said nothing, opting instead to squeeze Percy's shoulder and stay silent, watching over the demigod as he eventually fell into an uneven sleep.

Chapter Text

It was almost disturbing how used Percy was to nearly dying. Take today for example. His feet were dangling off the ground, kicking uselessly against the giant that was trying to throttle the life out of him. Percy twisted vainly against the giant's grip, vision starting to go fuzzy from the lack of oxygen.

He doubted he had enough energy to call upon the power of Poseidon. Riptide had yet to reappear in his pocket and Percy wasn't sure if he had enough time to wait for its return. He pulled at the garbage lid sized hand around his throat with one hand, the other trying to find purchase on the giant's face, tear at his eyes or something come on—

The monster's disgusting face grew darker and Percy groped desperately for Riptide, praying it had reappeared, come on, come on—his fingers closed around something smooth and small but his limbs were slow as he fumbled to uncap it. Come on, Percy, come on, Annabeth will be so ticked if you pass out and die—

Percy gasped desperately, his body suddenly collapsing onto the hard ground. He gagged, one hand coming up to his throat, his whole body heaving as he took in oxygen with great, greedy gulps. He forced himself to his side, Riptide still in his grasp as he blinked through tears to find the monster. Only . . . where the monster used to be instead was . . . something blue and softer, a feminine like face peering anxiously down at him. Scratch that two feminine like faces peering anxiously down at him.

"My lord," one fretted, falling to her knees. "Peace my lord, peace, just breathe. It's alright, the monster has been vanquished. Breathe."

Percy wasn't sure he wanted to be at peace but he did want to breathe so he warily kept his eyes on the blue figures as he gasped. His throat made terrible rasping sounds, chest heaving. He had to valiantly fight against the urge to puke.

"Here, drink." The blue creature that knelt before him held out an ornate chalice. Percy could see water inside.

Percy didn't survive so long accepting gifts from strangers so he pushed himself to a sitting position, massaging his throat as he eyed his companions, and did not take the offered water. The post-strangulation tears had dried up and with properly oxygenated eyes he could finally survey his possible saviors. They were naiads, Percy realized. They looked more or less like the naiads around camp except a little more greenish blue than strictly blue. The kneeling one smiled, holding the chalice a little higher.

Naiads were safe, right? After all, Poseidon was their lord and Percy was Poseidon's son, so it was very improbable that they would harm him, right? Maybe?

"Our lord sent us to help. You were so brave and valiant in your vanquishment of the first two monsters but weakened in your struggle against the final. We wished to help, although your success was not in question merely your health afterwards."

"Um . . . thanks?"

The naiad beamed, thrusting the chalice beneath his nose.

"Thanks," he said again.

He glanced at the water, swirling the glass to make sure nothing was at the bottom (old habits die hard after all). It seemed like ordinary water. He took a sip. When he didn't choke or gag, he took a long drip and felt satisfied at the soothing sensation of the water healing his throat.

"Thanks," Percy said with feeling this time.

The naiad beamed, her entire face lighting up as she twisted to glance at her companion before turning bright eyes back to Percy.

"Thank you both," Percy said to be polite.

The elder naiad smiled wispily, then nudged the younger one forward. The younger naiad blushed and giggled, turning back to look at Percy. Percy blinked at her, taking another drink of water. He didn't understand all the giggling.

"What're your names?" Percy asked when they said nothing.

"I am Tritonas," the elder introduced with a curtesy.

"Deina," the younger said, respectively nodding her head. She peaked up at him through her bangs, blushing and smiling.

"Nice to meet you," Percy said, not sure if he should introduce himself or not. They clearly knew who he was but it felt weird to not say 'I'm Percy' back. "Well, thanks but I better get going—"

"Oh so soon?" Deina asked, scrambling to her feet as he stood.

"Ah, yeah, I was kind of just passing through," Percy said awkwardly, passing the chalice back to her.

She took it, her face falling. She looked back at Tritonas, who nudged her forward.

"Are, are you sure you don't want to come to the river?"

"Ah, I'm sure it's a very nice river," Percy said, his voice a little hoarse from his near strangulation. He cleared it. "But, ah, I've got to meet my girlfriend and she'll kill me if I'm late."

She'll probably kill me if I still sound like this, Percy thought but there wasn't much he could do about that.

"Oh," Diena said, face falling.

"But ah, it was nice to meet you!" Percy assured her with a smile.

It wasn't until later, nestled up next to Annabeth as he told her the story and his girlfriend huffed unhappily that he realized the source of the naiads' great disappointment.

"She was flirting with you."

"No, she was just being polite," Percy denied even though he wasn't entirely sure. She did giggle a lot. "She said Dad sent them."

"Poseidon would love nothing more than for you to fall in love with someone immortal," Annabeth snorted, gently carding her fingers through his hair. "Or someone he could control. Seaweed Brain."

"I think you're exaggerating."

"I'm not," Annabeth said fondly, kissing him. "Poseidon just vastly underestimates how oblivious and loyal you are."

Chapter Text

It was hard to pinpoint what exactly was the cause: the lack of sleep, the irregularity of food intake, stress from months of playing catch up at school because a crazy goddess kidnapped him, pressure from keeping camp safe, or Jason's annoying yammering (Percy liked to think it was Jason's fault). Regardless, the migraine came on fast and hard. Annabeth basically carried Percy to his cabin and warded everyone off under pain of death if they bothered him. Percy was sure it was suitably terrifying but he felt like his very skull was splitting in two so he couldn't dedicate much thought to the contemplation.

Percy curled himself into the smallest mass possible, tucking his head between his knees. He squeezed his hands against his ears hoping the pressure would both keep his brains inside his stupid head and block out the sounds that were trying to split it. He felt like daggers were being forced into his brain, every rattling breath dragged up from his lungs driving them in even deeper. He tried to quiet his breath while still taking in enough oxygen but it wasn't working out very well. He groaned a little than instantly regretted it as the sound pounded against his abused brain. He half-expected his brain to come leaking out of his ears.

He wished Annabeth had just thrown him in the lake instead of his cabin but wishing required thought and he didn't have the capacity for that right now.

A scraping sound grated against his ears and Percy tried to make himself even smaller, desperate to block out the sound. The part of him that capable of fragmented thought imagined it might be Annabeth and hoped the bed would dip and soft hands would pull him into a warm embrace. He barely registered the dip that eventually came, the movement so slight and deliberate that it didn't break through his agony. 

A hand did reach out, hesitate, then hover just above his raven head. Percy clamped his hands tighter around his ears, oblivious to his visitor. The hand lowered at that, as though wanting to give comfort yet afraid to touch. Finally, calloused fingers brushed against the demigod's head, pushing sweaty strands back from the boy's pale brow. Percy didn't so much as stir.

Fingers carded through the unruly hair, a soundless sigh escaping the man who sat by his son's side.

Poseidon pressed his lips together at the sight of his pained child. He kept gently stroking the boy's hair, careful to never actually touch his skin. Percy didn't give any indication he was even aware of the god's presence. Poseidon knew the daughter of Athena would appear soon, too attached to his child to be parted long from his side on a good day and even less patient to be so on a bad. So he wouldn't have long to appreciate this moment. Poseidon stared down at his son, eyes slowly panning over his pained form, taking in every detail, every color, every crease, and every curve. His son radiated displeasure and pain, and although the emotions were sharp and bitter, the sea god greedily basked in them. Every minute twitch of pain was cherished, every shaking, hiccuped breath exalted.

Poseidon hummed softly, letting the sound of the ocean fill the cabin. Percy's face was almost completely obscured by his hands and knees but the wrinkled patch of skin that was visible smoothed out, his fingers vice-like grip relaxing if but only by a breath. Poseidon smiled, and waited at his son's side until the moment broke by the daughter of wisdom's arrival.

Chapter Text

Percy squatted in front of the oven, sea green eyes fixed unwaveringly on the contents inside. On the beaten up, scratch covered baking sheet inside, blue chocolate chip cookies rose to blueish-golden heights, chocolate goodness bubbling on their surface. The timer on the stove counted down in electric green block letters: 0:44, 0:43, 0:42, 0:41. Percy rocked back and forth on his heels, not breaking eye contact. His nose itched. He scrunched his nose up, wiggling and shaking his head to try and dispel the irksome sensation because his hands were otherwise engaged, encased in brand new oven mitts (a gift from Paul, Christmas red with sparkling white snowflakes, adorable and functional his mother praised).

The itch grew unbearable and Percy groaned, tearing off an oven mitt to scratch the offending nose.

0:02, 0:01—beep, beep, beep.

"Oh Styx," Percy cursed, scrambling to find the hastily discarded oven mitt, shoving it back on while simultaneously opening the oven door. The heat wafted up to his face but he barely noticed as he grabbed the cookie tray and—

"Oh Styx, Styx, Styx," Percy cursed louder and louder with each iteration as he realized in his haste he hadn't put the oven mitt completely on and the 350-degree metal tray was now pressing against his skin.

"Styx, Styx, Styx," Percy repeated all but dropping the cookie tray onto stove top, shutting the oven door with a kick of his foot and making a dash for the sink.

"Percy? Percy?!"

Percy, half stretched across the apartment's kitchenette, one foot still stretched out from shutting the oven door and hand shoved under the spray of the kitchen sink, looked up with wide eyes as his mother came running into the kitchen. Sally was only half awake, dressing gown ruffled from her abrupt awakening, eyes darting around the kitchen in alarm.

"Ah, sorry, sorry, no monsters," Percy apologized with a chagrined smile. "Just ah, making cookies? To surprise you?" The burn on his hand hadn't completely healed yet so he kept his hand under the water and tried to jerk his head towards the cookie tray. "Happy New Year?"

"Oh," Sally said, hand coming up to cover her heart as her shoulders dropped. She padded a little further into the kitchen, staring at the cookie tray with a budding smile. "Blue chocolate chip?"

"I mean, they're probably not as good as yours but ah, yeah."

"They're perfect," Sally interjected, a full beautiful smiling blooming on her face as she swooped in to kiss his cheek.

"Sorry, didn't mean to wake you."

"You're safe and baking me cookies, how could I be upset?" Sally asked, briefly laying her head on his shoulder. She pulled away a moment later frowning at his hand.

"Did you burn yourself?"

"Ah, yeah a little, but it's fine now. That's where the ah—"

"All the cursing came from yes," Sally guessed with a laugh, reaching out to pull his hand from the sink's spray and inspected the skin. She put his hand back under the water. "Keep it there for another half a minute. Here, let these cool for a few minutes then we can put the rest in. Want anything for breakfast? Eggs? Pancakes? I think we have pancake batter around here somewhere."

"Hey, I was the one making breakfast—!"

"No, you were making cookies, honey. Cookies are not breakfast—no, it doesn't matter how many times you've saved the world, cookies for breakfast are still not acceptable. Go wake up Paul and I'll get this started."

Chapter Text

The worst part about being a demigod—besides dying, the constant interruptions in your life, never having privacy, not being able to see one of your parents, being forced to make life and death decisions at a young age, your friends dying, godly parents trying to get you and your girlfriend to break up, falling into actual hell—you know what, being a demigod just all over sucked. One of the worst parts of being a demigod was how nectar and ambrosia didn't work on mortal illness. Like, say laryngitis.

Percy glared at his friends, deciding that he needed new friends. Immediately.

"It's just laryngitis, you'll be fine in a few days, stop being such a baby," Thalia told him, picking dirt out of her boot with a knife.

"It's actually kind of nice," Leo teased with a grinned, ducking when Percy threw a handful of dirt his way.

"No speaking," Annabeth said firmly as Percy opened his mouth to retaliate. She put a hand over his mouth, not trusting him to refrain from trying to force his swollen throat to work.

"Aww, yeah Percy listen to Dr. Annabeth," Jason snickered. "Save your precious voice."

Percy flipped him off.

"It is a nice change of pace," Frank mused, which, wounded Frank I thought we had something.

"It's too bad it'll only last a few days," Piper joined and everyone laughed save Annabeth, who patted him on the back.

I hate all of you, Percy thought, narrowing his eyes at them all and wishing laryngitis on each and every one of them. It only made his friends laugh harder so Percy pushed himself up with an air of I don't have to deal with your abuse.

"Don't be such a sour puss!" Jason called after his retreating back, followed by an ow. Percy hoped Annabeth kicked him.

His girlfriend didn't run after him, knowing he needed a moment to calm down before she made any attempt to cheer him up, so Percy stalked to the lakeshore alone. He shoved his hands into his pocket, his throat aching and uncomfortable. He gave a pathetic weak cough, shoulders hunching as he kicked at the sand. He hobbled on one foot, tearing one shoe off and throwing it across the sand, then repeated the process until he was barefoot, shoes strewn across the shore. Percy waded into the lake until the water was up to his knees than plopped down. He propped his elbows on his knees, resting his chin in his hands as he glared out at the sun's reflection on the peaceful lake, narrowing his eyes angrily at the cheerful sight.

Little fish darted in and out of his crossed legs, nipping at his jeans in sympathy. A turtle made its slow way out to him, and Percy couldn't help the fond huff that fell off his lips as the little creature crawled onto his lap.

In the distance, a group of hippocampuses jumped into the air, performing all kinds of flips and twists, the theatrics undoubtedly for his amusement. Percy pressed his mouth into his palm, trying to hide the smile he couldn't keep from creeping up his face. The waves stilled around him, the water evening out and Percy swore, in the tranquility of the surface, his father's face stared up at him.

Percy sat up straight, hand falling away from his face as he watched in surprise. Poseidon smiled at him, looking vaguely amused and maybe sympathetic. The water was so still that Percy almost felt like the god was actually right there. Poseidon opened his mouth and—

"Hey, a little help here."

The water shimmered, waves breaking the smoothness of the surface and distorting the lord of the sea's face until all shape disappeared. Percy's mouth open, no wait on the tip of his tongue but only a vague croaking sound emerged as his father's face vanished. Percy coughed, mentally cursing this stupid disease, Zeus and his stupid rules, all thing demigod—

"Percy, come on now, stop sulking. I won't get my pants wet just because you're being a big baby."

Percy turned and saw his girlfriend standing in the sand, shoes in hand and one eyebrow rose. She glared at him, clearly unimpressed. Percy sighed but waved her out, palm extending out for her to grab. She waded into the water, the waves lapping against her pants but leaving them dry. She took his hand when she got close enough, sitting by his side. Percy stared at the spot Poseidon's face had disappeared seconds before and bitterly regretted being robbed of one of the brief moments he got with his father. Annabeth rested her head on his shoulder and Percy knew it wasn't her fault. He'd call that Zeus's fault then.

"They're just teasing, you know. They really do love you."

Percy squeezed her hand, unable to even grunt in response as the lake moved around them. The turtle on his knee poked its head out of its shell, nibbling on his jeans.

"They do. You just too miserable to admit it."

Percy huffed, blowing the quick puff of air through his nose, staring at the horizon where the hippocampuses still frolicked for his amusement. Annabeth laughed. Percy looked down at her golden head, thought about kissing her forehead then thought against it. Better not get her sick too. As a matter of fact. Percy gently nudged her and she pulled away enough to look at him. Percy motioned for her to move away, gesturing at his throat.

Annabeth snorted, her head falling back onto his shoulder.

"Idiot. What's the worst that could happen? If I couldn't speak you would still know what I was trying to say, and really what else matters?"

Percy supposed she had a point there. He rested his chin on her golden curls, watching the hippocampus once more. He swore one turned and winked at him.

Thanks, Dad, Percy thought, closing his eyes and soaking in the moment.

Chapter Text

Percy couldn't sleep. He lay on his back, Annabeth's weight a comfortable warmth at his right side as his girlfriend peacefully slept (and, not that Percy would ever admit to deriving comfort from the son of Jupiter's presence, but Jason was a warm weight on his left side, Piper's arm missing her boyfriend to lodge itself somewhere in Percy's ribs). His left thigh twinged, the skin hot and itchy. They had narrowly survived an attack from an escaped Keres earlier that morning. Percy had taken a talon strike to his upper thigh. Annabeth spent all evening fretting over him but they all knew only an immortal power could heal such a wound. Keres were creatures of disease and pestilence. The infection would grow and their nectar and ambrosia could do little against it.

Once we get to camp, Mr. D will help us, Annabeth had declared but she hadn't looked happy about it.

While the wound bled no longer, Styx did it hurt. Demigods weren't entirely used to long-lasting wounds. Ambrosia and nectar cleaned them up real quick—and most demigods were not as fortunate as Percy to survive a wound inflicted by a Keres.

The pain radiated through Percy's bones and he decided that he couldn't just lay there any longer. He gently detangled himself from the pile of demigods, trying his best not to bend his left leg too much. He awkwardly managed it. He breathed in the clean night air, staring down at his friends. Annabeth's brow furrowed at his loss, hand splayed out in the grass he once occupied. Even Jason seemed unconsciously displeased. Maybe his face always looked like that. Percy shook his head, half-smiling despite himself.

Ridiculous.

His leg ached, reminding him why he couldn't join his friends in their slumber. Percy gently pulled at the hem of his jeans, peaking at the bandaged skin underneath. The visible patches of his thigh were red and swollen from the injury. Percy blew out a soft breath, wishing for some kind of relief for the ache. As if sensing his thoughts, the wind picked up. The breeze ruffled his hair, bringing with it the barest scent of . . . water.

Water, Percy thought. A river to be exact. A nice cool river that, while it couldn't heal him completely, might bring some relief to his predicament. Glancing at his companions, Percy made up his mind. Fingers curling around Riptide in his pocket, Percy headed off towards the alluring scent.

The river was not far. Percy nearly jumped for joy at the sight of it, stripping off his pants and wading into the water until he was waist deep at the deepest part of the river. The water splashed against his skin, refreshingly cool and soothing, and Percy sighed in relief. He stood there for a moment, watching the water churn and rush about his legs. It felt so refreshing and Percy wondered, chewing on his lip, if it would be even better if he undid some of the wrappings.

It probably would, he decided.

With that thought in mind, Percy leaned down and began undoing Annabeth's careful bandage. He unwound the outer layers in slow and careful motions, pausing when he finally reached the end. Gently, oh so gently, he began to pull back the last of the bandage.

He knew at once it was the wrong thing to do.

"Styx," he cursed as fresh blood, hypnotically red in the moonlight, gushed out of the reopened wound and stained the water an eerie black.

"Styx," he cursed again, trying to redo the wrapping as it became apparent that the water had absolutely no effect on the gushing wound.

Percy tried to rewrap the wound but a) he wasn't flexible enough for this endeavor and b) the bleeding wound had slicked the bandage, rendering the material impossible to stick. Styx, Percy thought, near panic as he pressed the bandage vainly against the bloody torrent.

He didn't have enough time to even register the severity of his situation when—two calloused hands suddenly surrounded his own, pressing over his bleeding wound. Percy's head jerked up, nearly toppling himself into the river, only avoiding such a fate when the water fortified itself around his knees, and . . . and found himself staring into the face of his father.

Poseidon tightened his grip as Percy tethered, giving the demigod a severe look.

"Stop moving," his father commanded.

Percy immediately compiled, too overwhelmingly shocked to do anything but. He had the weirdest sensation, feeling like a normal teenager being berated by his irritated father because he'd gone and injured himself doing something he'd been explicitly told not to do – like sneak out of the house or something equally mundane.

Poseidon grunted, returning his attention to Percy's leg. Percy blinked, not daring to so much as look down at his leg even though a warm sensation spread out from his thigh—which . . . which was starting to hurt less and less. Poseiodn's face barely changed, the god not so much as blinking as he gave Percy's leg his undivided attention.

Percy felt his father moved his hands, thumbs gently testing the skin.

His father's face was so close to his. Percy could have counted the hairs in his beard if he wanted. The near hysterical thought occurred to him that this was the closest his father had ever been to him. Well . . . maybe not the closest. He had hugged Percy that one time. But this was definitely the longest Poseidon had ever been so close to him and only like the third time he'd ever actually touched Percy. The entire situation felt surreal and Percy half expected to wake up beside his girlfriend back at their makeshift camp. But he remained waist deep in the river, Poseidon half bent over him, doing something to his (maybe?) injured leg. Percy's mind was utterly blank save from the overpowering feeling of disbelief so he couldn't even appreciate the rare (fatherly?) moment.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Poseidon released his leg, pulling away enough to stand straight and frown down at his son. Or . . . more like across at his son, and wow when did Percy get so tall? Or had Poseidon simply appeared shorter, he could control that after all—

"Perseus," Poseidon disapproved, breaking Percy's half-hysterical internal babble. "What were you thinking?"

Each word was short and clipped. Dark blood splashed all the way up to the god's elbows. Percy's blood. Gods, this was weird. Percy opened his mouth to make some answer when thunder boomed overhead, the sound deafening in the relative silence of the river. Percy couldn't help but flinch, instinctively falling into a battle stance as his eyes flickered up.

"Um, should you be—?"

"I asked you a question, Perseus," Poseidon snapped, reaching out with a bloodied hand to drag Percy's chin down, forcing the demigod's attention back on him.

"Um—"

"You should never have stopped to rest." Poseidon's voice filled the air, swirling around Percy like the wind on a stormy ocean. "Such a wound is too dangerous to tempt Fate. You should have left at once for camp. But why—why—would you think it a good idea to unwrap the poisoned wound?"

When he put it like that . . . Percy felt his cheeks darken at his own stupidity. He faltered, mouth opening and closing (it hurt felt way too childish to say out loud to a god). He was saved from answering because, a second later, a brilliant flash of lightning struck a tree near the bank. The boom from the strike shook the ground, Percy's teeth clanging unpleasantly together. Poseidon frowned and steadied Percy with a hand to the shoulder, still looking disapproving, and utterly unconcerned at the flaming tree not three feet from them.

"What?" he demanded irritably instead, briefly casting his eyes to the stormy sky. "Did you expect me to let him bleed to death in my domain from a wound only the few of us can heal?"

The sky crackled.

"Oh don't give me that, you thrice-damned hypocrite," Poseidon scoffed, "after what you've done for your own children."

Lightning flashed, angry zigzagging lines darting across the sky.

"It's hardly my fault you were too slow and the girl died—she's back anyway, so your interference did save her life."

The flaming tree snapped, careening into the river. Poseidon mostly ignored it, pulling Percy a few inches closer as the water sizzled.

"Quit your whining, brother mine, its childishness leaves much to be desired. Leave me be but for a moment longer and I shall depart." Thunder. "Well, you can't change that now." Poseidon frowned. "You won't change that now, Zeus. Do not touch my son."

Percy, unnerved by the entire exchange, really didn't like that warning shot. It at least felt like a warning shot because Poseidon was looking down at him again and the sky, rumbling not unlike an angry child storming away after having lost an argument, eventually grew silent.

Poseidon stared intently at Percy, all of his attention refocused on the boy and it was nearly overwhelming, the sheer force of all that was the god of the sea bearing down upon him.

Maybe Poseidon realized he was being too intense because his father sighed, aura dialing back to a less terrifying level as his shoulders visibly deflated.

"Why, my son, must you constantly worry me," Poseidon lamented.

Percy was pretty sure that was rhetorical but an awkward "sorry" slipped past his lips regardless.

Poseidon sighed again.

"Thanks?" Percy tried, not sure what he could say that would make Poseidon look less . . . like that.

It had the opposite effect as desired. Poseidon sighed a third time, eyes briefly flickering down to Percy's healed leg (Percy didn't even have to look down to know the wound was gone).

"You needn't thank me, Perseus." Poseidon's thumb absently moved across the back of Percy's neck from its resting place on his shoulder. "You nearly died."

"I nearly die on a weekly basis," Percy pointed out without thought.

Poseidon frowned at him. "Hm."

Percy wasn't sure what he was supposed to say after that. Poseidon continued to stare at him, looking deep in thought. The tree had sunk into the soft mud of the riverbank, water angrily diverting around it. His father's hand was a warm weight on Percy's shoulder.

"I'm okay, Dad," Percy said, his voice quiet in the relative noise of the river.

Poseidon heard him regardless. His father gave an acknowledging grunt, fingers digging into Percy's skin as if to assure him that Percy was, in fact, there and warm and alive. Percy wondered how close to death he had actually been. Must have been a lot. He found it hard to care though, not now with Poseidon's hand still on his shoulder.

"Don't do that again," Poseidon commanded.

"I'll remember that."

"My brother will likely not permit such blatant disobedience of his laws in the future."

As if on cue, the sky gave a thundering warning.

"I must go," Poseidon said.

"I know."

Percy half expected Poseidon to disappear dramatically right then but . . . no. Instead, Poseidon pulled Percy closer one more time, dragging the demigod nearer and nearer until he could rest his forehead against Percy's in such a tender gesture that Percy's breath caught in his throat.

"Stay safe," Poseidon instructed.

"Thank you," Percy said instead of promising. Because he knew better than to promise. Because this stolen moment was more than he ever expected to receive and, while never enough, it was enough for now. And enough for the future to remember by whenever he doubted that his father cared.

Percy closed his own eyes so he didn't have to watch Poseidon disappear in a warm rush of an ocean breeze.

Chapter Text

The day after, the world fell into chaos. Hurricanes. Tsunamis. Earthquakes. Utter, senseless destruction of untold magnitude. The sea warred against the sky, against the earth, against the stars, against anything that dared question or stand in its path.

The month after, the ocean was silent. Motionless. Desolate.

Hades wasn't sure what was worse, the destructive directionless rage or the listless immobility of paralyzing despair.

"The rage will return." Athena was unconcerned.

"The sea is volatile, who knows how long his violent moods will swing," Hestia warned.

("Tell him it's okay, it didn't even hurt," the newest ghost that sat on the shores of Elysium placated with a sad smile that didn't quite reach once vibrant green eyes. It had hurt, Hades knew, and the silvery remains of scars across the ghost's form proved it.)

"The humans are terrified, think he will be pleased with or ignorant of your wanton destruction?"

It would not bring him back either way, therefore Poseidon cared not.

(He was neither pleased nor ignorant. The sadness that darkened his eyes as the leagues of dead condemned to a watery doom crowded Charon's boats made his shoulder grow heavy but it was the helplessness that hung about his downturned lips that made Hades look away.)

"Do not let him in," Zeus warned. "We shall never be rid of that particular chapter in our lives if you grant him even the slightest glimpse of the boy. You know he will always want more. We shall truly never know peace if you bow to any such demand."

("Give a mouse a cookie."

"Come again?"

"It's a mortal story . . . give a mouse a cookie, he'll ask for some milk."

The connection was ridiculous and nonsensical. But it must have some significance Hades was missing for the ghost hadn't been surprised at the news. Nor had he questioned the logic. He simply stared at Persephone's empty seat with translucent, unseeing eyes and argued not against his fate. Hades did not understand why he even amused the lord of the dead with their little tête-à-têtes. He owed the gods nothing, least of all Hades.

Not anymore.

Perhaps not ever.)

"Give a godly parent a glimpse of their dead child, and they'll try to break every natural law to get them back."

"I didn't know you read mortal literature, Dionysus."

"I don't have to. And neither do you."

("Death is cruel even to its master," Hades tried to explain to the ghost as they walked among the silent halls of the fallen. "My children return to me but not wholly. They are but echoes of their living selves. When a demigod dies, all parts of them die. That includes the part that links them to their parents. That is why the death of a demigod is felt more keenly by a godly parent than their mortal counterparts—not just a child dies but part of the god themselves. My children lose the part of themselves that binds them to me when they die. So they are in my domain, but forever lost to me. They never truly feel like my children and the Underworld no longer offers them comfort. Rather it becomes a cruel reminder of what they can never regain.")

Bianca visited her father sometimes. But the sight of him was painful to her. She could sense his aura, feel it all around her, omnipresent and powerful . . . but no longer a part of her. The hanging fruit of temptation, always beyond reach. A part of her very being torn from her person and flouted before her. It was a cruelty worse than all of Tartarus.

(Hades had little love for his brothers and less for the cruel unfairness that followed from his submission to their laws whilst they remained steadfastly disobedient. But . . . but the shadow of the demigod that waited patiently on the shores of Elysium and entertained the musing of the lord of the dead, who drew his children into the light when he walked upon Gaia's shores. Him, Hades did not hate. In him, Hades saw what he had thought long lost to children of darkness: hope.)

Hazel never knew how her father watched over her. She had only just been returned to him. Pluto dared not threatened her life with his selfish desires. He loved his children too much for that. Instead, he closed his eyes and reached out for her, reassured himself by basking in the rightness of that thread of existence that bound her to him—alive and flourishing in the land of the living as it never could in death. He had his daughter back.

("I can be reborn."

"It's never the same."

The part that binds a demigod to their parent will never be reborn.)

Poseidon, unable to gain entry to the domain that belonged to his brother, stood defiant and angry and wild on the brink of the Underworld. "He does not belong to you. Give him back to me."

("Don't." Percy Jackson stood defiant and angry and wild in the heart of the Underworld. "You of all people know better than to defy the Fates. You know that crossing the Fates always has consequences."

"I would have given Eurydice to Orpheus."

"Because you knew he would look back.")

He had known. He had known that Orpheus would look back. He had always known better than to challenge the sacred Fates. There were some things even the lord of the dead dared not meddle in. The Fates had a way of correcting themselves.

(Poseidon knew better than to look back.)

Chapter Text

Percy wasn't really sure how it happened. 

One moment he was ducking into Paul's office to hide out and skip geometry, the next, something was thrown over his eyes (he was like ninety percent sure it was a hand) and the world spun. Percy barely had time to think oh no not again before a coolness pressed against his skin, affirming that yes he was being kidnapped again.

"What's the big idea?" Percy demanded hotly, Riptide leaping into his hand as he prepared to buck off his captor.

Only his captor had already released him and was moving out of his personal space, the hand over his eyes falling away to reveal . . . Poseidon sitting on his throne, a smug grin on his face.

Percy blinked.   

Poseidon's grin grew wider. 

Feeling like he was on the Olympian version of Punk'd, Percy spun around to face his would-be captor. His half-brother Triton scowled at him, arms crossed. Percy blinked at him as well, half-expecting Apollo to come bursting into the room shouting 'gotcha!'; he didn't and Triton's scowl grew deeper with every passing second so Percy was forced to return his bewildered stare to their father.

At the return of Percy's attention, Poseidon's grin widened even further. The sea lord spread his arms wide, trident grasped firmly in his right hand as he boomed: "Welcome, my son."

It was an admittedly impressive sight but the majesty of the moment was lost on the overwhelming sense of what the hades running through Percy's head.

"What?" he asked, brain lagging behind as he blinked at his father's grinning face. The grin didn't dim for a second. Instead, it appeared to widen even impossibly further, the lord of the sea taking great pleasure in the confusion he caused.

"Am I even allowed to be here?" Percy was like a hundred and ten percent positive he wasn't but sometimes things like consequences went right over the gods' heads so he wanted to make sure they were on the same page so Zeus didn't blast Percy where he stood. Because that wouldn't be a great end to this bizarre Tuesday.

Poseidon stood, his manic grin softening as he towered over his sons. Even with the weird double fin thing he had going on, the sea god cut an impressive sight, pure power and authority rolling off him like waves against the shore. Poseidon reached out and grasped Percy firmly on the shoulder. Percy tried to school his expression so he didn't look a small adoring child starved for affection. His confusion and mild apprehension of being struck by lightning from an irate Zeus hopefully succeeded to that end. 

"Peace my son," Poseidon assured, his grin returning to full magnitude. "You've been kidnapped."

"Come again?''

"You've been kidnapped," Poseidon repeated with a deep-bellied laugh that filled the throne room, the sound reverberating through Percy's very bones. "By your angry and jealous half-brother who hates you."

Percy couldn't help throwing a glance over his shoulder to where Triton stood with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face. He wondered if Poseidon was joking. Because judging by the strength of that scowl, Percy had a feeling the sentiment wasn't far off the mark. Poseidon continued in a carefree jovial manner as though Triton weren't trying to drill holes into Percy's head with his eyes.

"And I don't think he's going to let you go any time soon, he rather gets his temper from me. I'll try my best but who knows how long you'll be stuck down here."

The puzzle pieces finally clicked. Percy's eyebrows rose until they all but disappeared into his browline. Poseidon continued to grin down at him, looking inordinately pleased with his little scheme.

"Zeus won't buy that."

"I daresay you've been kidnapped so many times it might take him a moment to figure it out," Poseidon smoothed over, which only made Percy snort in disbelief. "Besides, it is not unheard of for immortal children to grow envious of their mortal counterparts. No, I think anybody will question it too much—"

"Are you sure—"

"Peace my boy, come, I'll show you where you'll be staying "

Triton met Percy's eye briefly as their father swept him from the room and, for a heartbeat, they shared a heartfelt moment of our father is crazy before Poseidon swept Percy from the room and the door shut on his brother's reluctantly amused face.

Chapter Text

Percy had been in his father's castle for a grand total of five days before the confrontation. To be fair, it was a rather impressive number given the circumstances; Percy tended to rub people the wrong way in less than five hours much less five days so there was that. He supposed it was hard when your brother was begotten illegitimately when your dad cheated on your mom for like the millionth time. (And really, Percy knew that he would never ever forgive Paul if he cheated on Sally. He liked to think he'd give any illegitimate kid the benefit of the doubt but he wasn't sure he could be so generous. So really, he supposed he understood Triton on some level. Then again, Paul wasn't Percy's dad so . . . . It was weird.)

Regardless, Triton's contempt for his demigod half-brother came to a head after an ill-adviced snide remark on Percy's part that was the end jab in a long line of escalating passive aggressive behavior between the two. Percy had a second to remember Triton was, in fact, still a god even if he was a giant jerk and that ticking him off probably wasn't in his best interest before – Triton moved faster than Percy could react, grabbing a fist full of the demigod's shirt and shoving the boy against the wall so hard the very foundation shook. Sand dislodged from the force of the collision, stirring murkily into the water around them as Percy's hand came up too late, wrapping around Triton's wrist like it could retroactively stop the physical confrontation. 

The force of the hit made Percy's teeth chatter, breath leaving him in one fell swoop. Star burst before his eyes, momentarily blurring his half-brother's face. He spared a rather dazed moment to wonder how pissed Poseidon would be if his sons full on brawled in the middle of the hallway, trying to force his momentarily stunned limbs to reach for Riptide, when—Triton dropped him like he was on fire.

The whole ordeal lasted maybe two seconds, too quickly for Percy to even get his breath back. It happened so fast, Percy didn't even have time to unwrap his death grip from around Triton's wrist. The two sons of Poseidon blinked at each other, Percy's arm awkwardly stretched out between them like a weird tether.

"Shit," the minor sea god cursed. "Are you hurt? Shit."

"What?" Percy asked not understanding but the question fell on deaf ears as Triton lurched back at him . . . taking Percy's head in his hands?

"Shit," Triton repeated, fingers canvasing Percy's head like he was looking for injuries. "Mortals are so fragile. Are you hurt?"

"Um."

Percy couldn't think of a coherent response, too thrown by the sudden change in Triton's intentions. Was this still a confrontation? It didn't feel like one. He tried to pull away from Triton but Triton was apparently having none of that, twisting Percy's head to the side and probing every inch for injuries.

"Cut it out, I'm fine," Percy said finally finding his voice, a sentiment immediately undermined by the hiss he inadvertently let out when Triton found the bruise from where his head connected with the wall.

"Shit," Triton cursed again. "I didn't mean to use so much force, but you're fine, this is—"

"Of course I'm fine," Percy said crossly, "it'll heal here in a second anyway, get off of me."

"Stop being such a little—"

"What are you two doing?"

The voice boomed down the hall, stern and unyielding, the water shimmering with barely contained disapproval and suspicion. Percy and Triton's heads snapped up in unison, guilty eyes finding their father coming towards them. Poseidon's eyes narrowed at the pair, face severe and strict (his god face Percy liked to call it) as he scrutinized his sons. Percy imagined they were a weird sight, Triton's hands buried in Percy's hair and Percy's hand still wrapped around Triton's wrist. Shit, Percy thought. He'd been there less than a week and Poseidon was going to see he was more trouble than he was worth and send him back home. His stomach sank at the thought, bile rising bitterly in his throat.

"I asked a question." Poseidon's voice broke no argument, his disapproval a near choking tangible force in the water. Triton flinched, the moment invisible to the eye but Percy felt it.

Poseidon's eyes snapped to Triton, frown deepening in disapproval and Percy felt his gut twist uncomfortably for an entirely different reason. Poseidon's words from what felt like an eon ago echoed in his mind you are my favorite son. . . . and he couldn't help but pity Triton in that moment. Poseidon didn't seem to hold any reservations about the guilty party if the narrowing of his eyes were anything to go by. Relief blossomed in Percy's chest, followed immediately by guilt. Shit.

"I ran into the wall," Percy blurted out, his voice too loud in the narrow hallway.

Then Poseidon's full attention focused on him and wow okay, Percy was not prepared for that. Poseidon didn't look the slightest bit impressed as he swam closer, his expression revealing how little he believed Percy's incredibly stupid declaration.

"You ran into the wall?" Poseidon repeated and boy did it sound a million times stupider coming from his low tenor.

But Triton's grip tightened on Percy and the demigod didn't even hesitate.

"Yep," Percy said, popping the p with an air far too casual to be believable.

The silence that followed was suffocating. Poseidon's eyes burned into Percy's soul, the Earthshaker's face an unreadable slate of scrutiny. Eventually, the lord's gaze turned to his eldest, back to Percy, and to Triton once more. The quiet tension made Percy want to claw out of his skin. Gods, this was why dealing with monsters was so much easier. Just swing a sword and done, not this insufferable nonsense with emotions and inferiority complexes.

"Alright," Poseidon said, abruptly shattering the silence, causing both his sons to jump a little. Poseidon grinned, the serious weight of the moment melting into an unnerving cheerfulness.

"Try not to be so clumsy in the future," Poseidon cheerfully instructed, heaving his trident into the air and spinning on his heel (fins?) as he started to swim away. "Glad you two are getting along so well!"

The parting remark was thrown over his shoulder and sounded more like a command than an observation. The two sons of Poseidon remained frozen as their father cheerfully disappeared from sight. Percy half expected him to suddenly reappear and call them out on the blatant lie, or worse, take Percy home.

Triton broke their frozen stupor first, shaking his head and frowning down at Percy. Which reminded Percy that the minor sea god was uncomfortably close, still all up in Percy's business like a weirdo.

"Could you like, let go of me and take at least three steps back? You're making me super uncomfortable," Percy demanded, and once more his voice was too loud for the small space.

Triton surprised him with immediate compliance, hands falling to his side and retreating to a respectable distance.

"Why . . . " Triton's brow furrowed, his voice level as a half-frown graced his otherwise expressionless face. "Why would you lie like that?"

Percy shuffled his feet instead of answering, staring at the shimmering wall decoration to the left of Triton's ear. He didn't know how to answer that without sounding pathetic or overly emotional. Maybe if he stayed silent long enough Triton would just leave it be.

"You are Poseidon's favorite, he would not have hesitated to take your side."

"Yeah, well," Percy said, super uncomfortable to hear the words spoke out loud by his brother. Gods, he wished Triton would stop staring at him. Percy couldn't help it if he was amazing and the guilty part of his brain could shut up about it.

Triton didn't get the nonverbal memo, silently brooding as Percy tried to inch his way away from this conversation.

"It didn't even hurt," Percy grumbled, shoving his hands into his pocket and shrugging his shoulder so hard it jarred his admittedly tender head (it was healing but he had taken quite a hit).

"Hm."

Triton's face was obnoxiously blank, eyes calculating silently in an expression the gods seemed to collectively fall into when they were thinking hard (usually about annoying important things like whether to kill you or not).

"Have . . . " Triton paused, his breath weirdly loud for a being that didn't even have to breathe to exist. "Have you seen the armory yet?"

The question threw Percy, who came to a halt in his not so subtle attempt at escape.

"Ah, no?"

"Come then, I'll show you."

Gods never made any sense, Percy thought in exasperation as it became apparent this was not up for debate. He threw his hands in the air but gestured for Triton to lead the way. His half-brother surprised him with a half-smirk and Percy couldn't shake the feeling that something important just happened.

Chapter Text

Two weeks passed since what Percy liked to refer to as the Incident (yes with capital letters). He wasn't sure if there was a rule somewhere that said once you lied to your all-powerful godly parent to protect your annoying half-brother you would be unceremoniously welcomed into the family, but that sure was what it felt like. Triton had taken a liking to him at least.

Triton had evidently decided that Percy was okay or something so for the last fourteen days he kept inviting Percy out to do things like spare or show him a cool part of Atlantis or follow him around making obnoxious remarks until Percy snapped and they ended up sparing in the middle of the forge (Amphitrite hadn't been too happy about that one but Poseidon looked near bursting with pride for some weird reason). Percy wasn't sure if this was normal sibling behavior. He didn't exactly have much to go on. Tyson was more of a loving hero worshiping kind of little brother. Percy was the little brother in this situation and he sure as hades wasn't about to do any hero worshipping—mostly because Triton was just an ass. (And maybe Percy kind of liked him but he'd go to the grave before admitting it).

Which was probably how he found himself sitting outside the palace watching with his mouth half open and brow furrowed as Triton spun around doing some fancy and unnecessary moves with a trident.

"That doesn't even look practical, you're just showing off," Percy hedged as Triton twirled the trident in his hand, thrusting into the air. The comment caused his brother to stumble, face alight with indignation as he scowled over his shoulder at Percy.

"It's part of using a trident," the god explained with an upturned nose. "You have to leverage it differently than a sword."

"If you say so," Percy wasn't convinced but he knew better than to push the point. He leaned back in the soft sand, arms stretched behind him as he reclined.

"Pay attention," Triton chastised, and ugh he sounded like Percy's geometry teacher.

"I don't see—" Percy started to argue, fingers digging into the soft sand as part of his mind contemplated the merit of throwing it in Triton's face the next time he made a fancy twirl. It would be comical but might get him stabbed.

He never got the chance to make a decision (he was leaning towards being okay with getting stabbed) or finish his complaint because at that moment he caught sight of a figure swimming their way. Amphitrite, queen of the sea, drew level with the two sons of Poseidon, her beautiful face serene and expressionless.

Percy winced and lurched forward, scrambling to get to his feet and greet the queen. Amphitrite had been taking the whole having-the-illegitimate-son-of-my-cheating-husband-sleeping-under-my-roof thing really well. She didn't treat Percy coldly a la Cinderella style. She also didn't smile his way or generally look pleased when he walked into a room, but Percy knew he was incredibly lucky regardless if Nico's horror stories about Persephone were anything to go by. All in all, she was pretty chill, and Percy just really wanted to stay on her good side.

"Triton, I have been searching for you—"

"Sorry, Mother, I was trying to teach this ungrateful crustacean how to use the weapon of our—"

That was as far as he got. In his (playfully?) agitated state, Triton had dramatically gestured in Percy's direction with the trident. Unfortunately, Percy had scrambled to his feet at the same moment, so the trident did not slice harmlessly through the water but instead through the soft flesh of Percy's forehead. For a second, the very ocean seemed to freeze. His stepmother and half-brother stared at him in twined horror and, a second later, a steady blossom of blood poured out from the cut, staining the water murky brown.

"I'm okay it's fine!" Percy cried as they both snapped from their stupor and all but lunged at him.

"Shit, mortals are so fragile," Triton cursed, and Percy had to take three steps back to avoid having his face awkwardly cradled again.

"No, seriously, it's fine, look, it's already healing, it looks way worse than it is, head wounds always bleed a lot—" Percy blathered, his face burning as he avoided Triton's grabbing arms.

"Stay still," the queen of the sea demanded. Both Percy and Triton obediently froze.

Amphitrite swam past her son, reaching out to take Percy's face in her hands. Her touch was gentle, her fingers persistent but careful as they probed at the wound. Percy hardly dared to breathe, eyes so wide they nearly hurt as he watched the queen's lightly frowning face. There was something . . . familiar about the gentle way she checked his injury. It unnervingly reminded him of his own mother, pushing back his hair and kissing his forehead every time he hurt himself as a child in that sweet and loving way that he knew meant he was safe, that he was loved.

"It's fine," the queen decided and oh gods she was pushing his hair out of his eyes, tucking a strand behind his ear (he needed a haircut, it was getting too long but when did he have time for such a stupid mortal thing?).

"The water is already healing it. There's no need to alert your father," Amphitrite told them, leaning in and—kissing the now sealed wound on Percy's forehead.

Amphitrite stared down at Percy, and Percy didn't know who looked more freaked out him or her. Or Triton, mouth agape over his mother's shoulder.

"I—" the queen dropped her hands from Percy's head as though he were cursed. "I—"

She glanced over her shoulder at Triton, then back at Percy. "I didn't . . . Come Triton, court awaits our arrival."

Amphitrite spun around and began swimming away, clearly intending to get as far away from this twilight zone as possible. Triton stared at Percy, looking torn between disbelief and incredibility, before the sea prince squeezed Percy's shoulder and took off after his mother.

"You . . ." Amphitrite slowed down enough to let Triton catch up with her, hesitating as she reached out to touch Triton lightly on the arm. She glanced back at Percy, head-turning only a fraction, so he could just barely see the side of her face. "You can come too if you'd like."

"Ah, yes ma'am," Percy stammered, head still reeling and hastened to catch up.

Chapter Text

Percy tucked himself into the corner of the open court, away from the many prying eyes that had watched him with interest over the last month he'd been living in his father's domain. Poseidon knew he was there. His father's eyes had found him that moment he slipped into the room. A ghost of a smile appeared on the lord of the sea's face but he didn't betray Percy's hiding place, continuing to serenely nod his head at a blue, three-tailed merperson with a dorsal fin sticking out of his back. Percy watched with interested at the comings and goings of Poseidon's court, catching tidbits of conversation as merfolk swam by his spot. It wasn't that he didn't like interacting with Poseidon's court but . . . it was just weird sometimes. Beyond weird, even by demigod standards. Everyone called him 'my lord' and bowed deeply and nodded seriously at every word he said. It was unnerving, and Percy usually preferred to watch it happen instead of being stuck in one of those uncomfortable conversations.

Across the room, a door suddenly flung open with such force that sand floated down from the ceiling, lazily drifting through the water as Triton swam into view. He gave their father a respectful nod but didn't pause to chat. Instead, he made a beeline for Percy.

"Aw man, come on, I was going to talk to people in a few—" Percy complained, sure a lecture was coming his way. He unfurrowed himself from his hiding spot, landing squarely on his feet to greet his brother.

"I just finished talking to a naiad I've been frequenting," Triton began without preamble, brushing over any niceties to get straight to the point, although what on earth that point was supposed to be, went right over Percy's head. He was pretty sure he wasn't getting yelled at for being antisocial. He was, however, a little worried Triton was trying to talk about dating.

To be safe, he clamped his hands over his ears. "Nope," he announced, his voice muffled to his own ears, "no, we are not at that level in our relationship—and never will be. Mortal brothers don't share those kinds of details, keep it to yourself, I don't want to hear—"

Triton's face twisted with annoyance, rolling his eyes as he batted Percy's hands away from his ears. "Quit being such a repressed prune, what century is this? That's not what I wanted to speak upon regardless. No, she was telling me about what mortals needed to maintain homeostasis."

"Huh?"

"Health."

"Oh," Percy said, relieved, letting his brother tear his hands from his ears. "Did you like have a question or something?"

Triton frowned at him. Actually, he looked a tad uncomfortable, which was weird. Normally Percy was the uncomfortable one in these conversations.

"She said that humans have physiological needs that must be met to maintain cognitive and emotional health," Triton paused, somehow managing to frown even harder. "She said . . . she said humans need multiple instances of nonviolent, physical contact a day as one of these physiological needs. Is that true?"

"Huh?" Percy asked, not comprehending.

"A day," Triton repeated in agitation, as if Percy were purposefully being stupid. "You've been here a mortal month. We've only initiated physical contact with you a handful of times that entire period, much less on a daily basis. Have we been neglecting your well-being?"

Triton's eyes narrowed, scrutinizing Percy's dumbfounded face. "Do you need more physical contact?"

"What—no, nope, I'm all good—"

"I know Tyson—"

"Yes, yep that's—Tyson hugs me all the time, so it's all good—" Percy tripped over his words in his haste to get them out, not liking where this conversation was going and trying desperately to uproot it before it took hold. From the look on Triton's face, he might already be too late.

"That's not enough. We have been neglecting your health—"

"Nope, I am perfectly alright, no neglect happening here—"

Triton ignored him, stepping closer. He hesitated as Percy continued to babble, not listening to a single word the demigod said, before slowly raising his hand and . . . placing it on top of Percy's head.

Percy stared at him in horror, unable to find words as mortification flooded his system.

"Is this sufficient?" Triton asked, looking as awkward as Percy felt. "I didn't ask what constituted adequate physical contact—"

"Yes, yes, I'm good, Triton this is so not—I'm fine, we're good, it's adequate."

"Alright . . . how long does—?"

"You're done, like five seconds that's all—"

"Good, okay," Triton said, looking relieved. He started to removed his hand, paused, then patted Percy on the shoulder before swimming away, blessedly not looking back at his mortified brother.

Percy eventually shook himself from his horrified and disbelieving stupor when a mermaid crept closer with a hopeful expression and he was forced to make conversation. At least that awkward moment was over, he thought, trying to focus on what the dark pink mermaid was saying, nodding whenever she paused to breathe, and hoped Triton would forget the whole thing. 

He didn't.

Three hours later, Amphitrite, in the course of chatting with Percy, swam closer to him than normal, their shoulders occasionally bumping together. That was weird in and of itself. They normally kept a respectable distance between them, but the weirdness didn't stop that. She gave him a small fond smile when they parted ways, something she had been doing increasingly more the last few weeks. Then she leaned forward and kissed the crown of his head before swimming away, leaving a stunned Percy in her wake.

No, Triton hadn't let it go. Instead, it seemed Triton had taken the stupid naiad's words to heart and told the entire kingdom. Percy was suddenly bombarded with casual touches everywhere he went. Tyson hugged Percy no less than three times a day, taking great joy in this added duty.

It all culminated when Poseidon himself approached Percy that night. He smiled fondly at his son as he drew closer.

"My son," he greeted. "How did the day treat you?"

"Triton's gone mad," Percy informed him as his father drew even with him. It still didn't feel entirely real living under the sea like this. Casually talking to his dad at the end of the day, the lord of the sea just swimming up and smiling like this was some common occurrence.

Poseidon tried not to grin, but the statement startled a small twitch of his lips, his eyes sparkling. "Yes, I have heard. I wished to speak to you about that."

"Oh?" Percy asked warily.

"Yes." Poseidon's face grew serious once more. Percy tried not to shift, suddenly hyperaware of his own body and the swirling water around him as Poseidon's eyes bore into his.

"I do not want you to believe I am avoiding you or believe Triton's endeavors to be unworthy. Your presence here has been left unchallenged on Olympus and I would do much to delay the inevitable protest against it; if I were to touch you, Zeus would know at once, and your kidnapping would be questioned. I am too selfish to hasten that, but I will not have you believe that I am avoiding you."

"Oh," Percy said, and his throat felt tight. His voice sounded a little strange so cleared it, but it still didn't sound much better when he said: "Got it."

Poseidon smiled down at him, but it was a sad, wistful thing, like he knew what Percy wouldn't even admit to thinking. "I know. But if I cannot reassure you of your worth or the affection the ocean feels for you, at least let our kin do it for me."

Percy blinked at that, nodding once. He didn't trust his voice to betray all the silly emotions swirling inside him. He hadn't even realized how all day he'd been waiting for Poseidon to show up, to laugh at Triton's ridiculousness and . . . and he didn't know. Hug him? Ugh, how childish, and yet . . . Pat him on the shoulder? Ruffle his hair? Something at least. Some kind of fatherly gesture from the all-powerful god before him to assure and soothe the lingering needy, small child in Percy that demigod life hadn't stamped out as well as it should have.

Poseidon smile grew sadder.

"You are my favorite son," he reminded Percy, his voice fond.

"Stop saying that, Triton just started liking me," Percy muttered, proud that his voice didn't waver even if it was quieter than usual.

Poseidon chuckled, turning his head slightly to the side as if listening to something. "Triton!" he called, causing Percy to jump. "Hither and hug your brother for me."

"What, wait—" Percy watched in disbelief as Triton stuck his head around the corner, eyes narrowing at the demigod like he was looking for a physical injury.

"Does he need physical contact?"

"What—no—"

"Yes, come hug him," Poseidon overrode and the rest of Percy's protest fell on deaf ears as his half-brother chased him down as their father laughed.

Chapter Text

Triton noticed Percy's propensity to fall asleep in awkward and unusual places the first night Poseidon made him bring the demigod into their domain. He noticed . . . but he simply hadn't cared at the time. When three fortnights had passed and the damn mortal wormed his way into Triton's affections, he realized that he should probably do something about it.

The thought occurred to Triton as he frowned at the demigod in question, who was drooling lightly onto his own hand, which served as a sad excuse for a pillow. Three feet from his terribly fragile mortal head, Tyson beat a hammer against his newest creation, the clanging of metal on metal not rousing their brother from his slumber.

"How long has he slumbered?" Triton asked.

Tyson paused in his efforts, blinking his great eye at Triton before looking down at Percy. "Maybe ten minutes," he said thoughtfully, returning to his task. "Do not wake him."

"This is not safe nor can it be comfortable," Triton rationalized, frowning harder at the sleeping boy, annoyed that he cared.

Tyson shrugged. "No. But he sleeps. He does not sleep enough. We should let him sleep when he can."

"I noticed," Triton agreed. "He doesn't sleep at night and falls asleep in the most inappropriate of places."

"He sleeps in here while I work," Tyson said, brow furrowing in confusion as he stopped his work to look at the sea prince.

"Yes. Like I said, inappropriate." Triton frowned harder, further annoyed as he realized he needed to take action to correct this.

"There is no need—" Tyson began as a nearby cyclops pulled a work in progress from the forge, slamming his hammer down to even out the pliable metal.

"Watch it!" Triton cried as the hammer sparked against the metal, sparks flying dangerously close to the sleeping demigod's head, jumping forward to insert himself between the dangerous activity and the annoyingly fragile human.

"What in my father's name do you think you're doing?" he demanded fiercely, one arm thrown out to shield Percy from view as he loomed angrily over the careless cyclops.

"Oh, I, m-my lord, forgive me, I did not—"

"Leave 'm 'lone, Tri."

"No, I will not leave him alone," Triton repeated scornfully, glancing briefly over his shoulder as Percy stirred. The cheeky bastard didn't even open his eyes, adjusting his head into a more comfortable position.

"Triiiii," Percy whined, one sleep-dazed eye finally opening just enough to stare reproachfully at his brother. "Stop bein' mean and let me sleep."

"He could have killed you," Triton argued, refusing to be made the bad guy here. Triton didn't have to turn to know that the cyclops had frozen in fear, a frightened hiccup barely audible over Percy's snort.

"Drama queen," Percy muttered. "Maybe my hair would have caught on fire, at most."

"Has that happened before?" Triton demanded, to which he only got a half grunt in reply. Which was utterly unacceptable. "Perseus, has that happened before?" Triton gave his stupid brother a shake, his eyes flickering over the idiot's head to search for any singed strands.

"Stoooopp." Percy batted Triton away, eye closing. "Tri, I'm trying to sleep."

"Not here you're not, get up."

"No."

"That wasn't a request, Perseus. Get up."

"No."

"Do you want to test me?" Triton threatened. "I swear to our father I will pick you up and carry you to your bedroom if you do not comply willingly."

"Wouldn't," Percy denied but his eye had opened again and the sea-green slit didn't look too sure.

Triton raised an eyebrow, stepping meaningfully into his brother's personal space.

"No."

"Yes, up."

Percy's lips gave an unhappy twitch but he otherwise remained motionless. He was calling Triton's bluff. Alright, fine then, the sea prince thought, and he leaned down to grab Percy about the shoulders and hauled the demigod to his feet.

"Triiiiton," the boy whined, going dead weight in the god's hands. Triton grunted and let the boy fall to the ground. Percy proved as infuriating as ever, simpling curling into himself on the soot-covered floor. "I was sleeping."

"You're ridiculous and childish. It's not safe to sleep here, to bed with you."

"Make me."

Triton glared at his stubborn half-brother and, without further hesitation, he bodily picked the boy up off the ground as though he were a baby, making good on his earlier threat.

"No, no, no, no, stop that," Percy protested, coming out of his sleepy stupor to fight against Triton. He shoved the minor god against his chest just enough to force his brother to release him, feet returning safely to the ground.

"Then to your bed," Triton declared.

Percy glared at him but he seemed to realize that resistance was futile. He was going to leave the forge one way or another.

"Why can't I just stay here?" Percy protested, crossing his arms.

His sleep-mussed hair stood up all over the place, his eyes half-lidded and skin pink from sleep and the heat. He looked like a belligerent child fighting his bedtime. It wasn't adorable, Triton thought, not in the slightest bit.

"Come on," Triton said and ushered his unwilling companion towards the door. Percy twisted, around making a face at Tyson.

"Sorry bro," he called. "I'll catch you in a couple of hours. You can show me that totally cool new sword by then, yeah?"

"Yes," Tyson promised, his voice following them as Triton all but shoved Percy out the door. "Sleep well, brother."

"All right, I'm out of the forge you can let go now," Percy complained, trying to tug his arm back as Triton yanked him down the silent hallway.

Triton eyed the demigod. "Will you actually go to your room and sleep?" he asked.

"Yeah sure," Percy said vaguely which Triton knew actually meant no. He would just go and bother Amphitrite or hide in the corner of the court or do whatever it was he did when Triton wasn't around.

"You're going to bed," Triton said.

"What are you, my mother?" Percy scoffed. "I'm not five. I'll go to bed when I'm ready to go to bed."

"No, you won't."

That started a brief scuffle between the two: Percy yanked his arm out of Triton's grasp; Triton made a grab for him and managed to get Percy by the shoulder; Percy twisted out of that too, bringing his knee up to collide with Triton's elbow as he tried again.

"You little—"

"Stop being such an overbearing—"

Triton lunged at Percy. Percy managed to get out of the way in time, shoving the sea prince aside, but Triton was able to wrap his fingers around the demigod's wrist and—

"Oh, that's cheating," Percy complained as Triton magicked them into his room.

"Bed," Triton repeated firmly, pointing to the object in question.

Percy looked set to argue some more, advancing threateningly on the minor god. Triton plopped himself down on a chair next to the bed instead of meeting him halfway.

"What are you doing?" Percy asked in confusion, pausing with a frown.

"Sitting," Triton scoffed and, with a wave of his hand, his trident appeared.

He held the weapon across his lap, the pointed tip facing the door. He flicked his wrist again and magicked a polish stone to his hand. He went to work polishing the weapon, pretending to ignore Percy's flabbergasted expression. He could feel the demigod's eyes trailing over the trident.

"Why?" the boy asked slowly.

"Because it would be hard to clean," Triton waved the trident in his direction, "while standing."

Percy's brow furrowed. He raised a hand to his unruly hair as he watched Triton clean the weapon. His eyes flickered towards the bed, then back at his brother—who pretended to ignore the demigod's confusion and focused instead on cleaning the already pristine weapon. He wondered if he was being too overt as he angled the trident so there could be no mistake the deadly three-pronged tip stood between Percy and the door. He knew better than to coddle his brother or worse, imply weakness. But he knew of the horrors their father's world wrought and the discomfort the scrutiny and inescapable attention Poseidon's domain could bring, especially if one were unused to it as Percy was.

"Persues, sleep," Triton bid and Styx-near embarrassed himself with the gentleness in his tone.

"Are you just gonna—?"

"Stay here and make sure you don't escape like the little shit you are?" Triton suggested. "Yes."

He scraped along the side of the trident, not meeting the demigod's eyes.

"Alright."

"Alright?"

"Alright." A pause. "You gonna stay there the whole time, watching me like some weirdo?"

"As Demeter over Demophon."

"What?"

"You are a travesty," Triton lamented with a roll of his eyes. "Yes. Now shut up and go to sleep."

Percy almost smiled and the peculiar expression coupled with the shadows the dimly lit room cast across his face revealed a bone-deep tiredness. Triton had to look away, a weird lump in his throat as the demigod laid down on his bed, back to his brother, polishing the surface of his weapon to the rhythm of Percy's breathing.

Chapter Text

The slow scratching sounded like a monster's claws on the rocky floor of Tartarus as it made its slow approach from the left, shrill and ominous, and dangerously close—too close; the sound reverberated in his skull, sending thrills of pain down his spine and—

Percy awoke with a strangled sort of scream, Riptide uncapped and in his hand. He twisted around in the sheets, hopelessly tangling his legs and throwing himself off balance as he thrashed from side to side, heart in his throat as he searched for the danger. His adrenaline-spiked body recognized the water sliding against his skin and he curled it protectively around himself, ready for attack, to defend, to—

"Whoa, whoa, easy there—"

Percy had burritoed his legs in the sheets, but that didn't deter him from bringing Riptide to bear . . . only to blink as the golden tip came to rest at the base of his brother's throat. Triton held his trident tightly in one hand, the gleaming three-tipped prong catching the green light of the water as its wielder reached his free hand out towards the demigod. Triton froze, one eyebrow raising meaningfully as he steadily met Percy's gaze when the sword came to rest at his throat.

"Peace, brother, it's me. You were—" 

"What the hades is that sound?" Percy shouted, heart hammering in his throat as he flinched against the spine-curling scratches. He kept Riptide at the draw but angled the tip away from Triton to the room at large, heart calming a little at his brother's obvious lack of distress.

"What sound?"

"That—Styx, can't you hear it?" Percy's free hand came up to his head, holding his left ear, and he flinched, shaking his head violently as he tried to dispel the terrible sound.

"What sound, Perseus, there is no sound—"

"Styx, Styx, Styx," Percy cursed.

He trusted the sea prince's firm belief in their safety, so he dropped Riptide onto the bed, not caring as it bounced clean off the mattress, his other hand coming up to grab at his hair. The sound wouldn't stop, the slow scraping of monsters coming to enact vengeance. The pressure made his head spin, his skin crawl, he was so sure something was coming, coming from behind his brother to attack.

His hand tightened around his ear as Triton continued to make useless conversation, brow furrowing as he loomed over Percy.

Wait. Pressure. Pressure. Pressure in his ear.

"Is there something in my ear?" Percy shouted, letting his hand fall back enough to present his left ear to the confused prince.

"Why would there—sweet Poseidon, is that a krill?"

Percy's eye twitched as he watched Triton lean in out of the corner of his vision. The shrill sound grew more panicked and with a hysterical sort of giggle, Percy realized it was a voice, the gargled unclear voice of the krill. Of course a krill would have a high, shrill voice. It might have been cartoonishly funny if the sound wasn't right against Percy's eardrum.

"Get it out," Percy said, only vaguely aware he was shouting over the painful intrusion. "Triton, get it out, it's pressing against my eardrum."

"I'm trying, calm down, you're frightening it."

Triton grabbed Percy by the jaw, tipping his head to the side to get a better look. Percy flailed, elbows flying. He felt nauseous, the world lurching uncomfortably as vertigo took hold of him. He floundered, an elbow catching Triton in the nose as the world spun around him.

"Dammit, Perseus, I'm trying to—"

"I can't help it, shit I feel sick, Styx, get it out, get it out," Percy chanted, trying to grab onto Triton for support as the world tipped and went weirdly curvy. "Shit, shit, no, no, no, not that way, the other way, the other way, ow, ow, that's my eardrum, that's my, Triton! Triton get it out!"

"Hold still, Perseus, I'm—I'm trying, but it can't hear me if you keep shouting, calm down—"

"Get it out, get it out—"

"He really swam in there, hold on—"

"Ow, ow, Styx, Styx, Styx, Tri—"

"You are hurting him. Stop moving at once."

Percy froze, feeling Triton do the same as the booming command broke over their heads. Inside his ear, the frightened krill froze as well, the shrill sound ceasing but the pressure continued, making Percy's eye twitch with pain. A second later, the ocean curled around him, swirling about his head with great care, swirling faster and faster until . . . Percy blinked as he noticed the spinning water out of the corner of his eye. It had formed like a mini whirlpool above his ear and, as he watched in amazement, the force of the whirl's pull literally sucked his unwanted guest clean out of his ear.

The relief was instant. The pressure released in a gust that Percy realized was himself letting out his breath. Triton held him upright as Percy sagged in relief, rightening the demigod before he could slump over. Percy let Triton manhandle him into a seated position, far more occupied feeling his ear and assessing any lasting damage to care.

"Ow," he said, clearing his throat as his ear throbbed. His voice still sounded funny to him, and pain laced around his skull from the trauma inflicted on his unsuspecting eardrum.

His careful assessment of his injury came to an abrupt end as the third person in the room stepped forward, hand reaching out. Percy looked up to find Poseidon's face murderous as his fingers closed around a barely visible krill still spinning in the water just next to Percy's head. The little pink body was curled into itself, radiating fear and shame. Eyes so small Percy wouldn't have been able to discern them if not for his father's gift found Percy's own eyes. Percy saw sorrow in those little eyes, a great, deep sorrow and self-loathing and acceptance of its fate.

Styx.

"Wait," Percy said, reaching out to snatch the krill from between Poseidon's fingers. He cradled his hand against his chest as Poseidon frowned, too surprised by the sudden objection to react fast enough to stop Percy. "Don't hurt him, he didn't mean to."

"You were literally screaming in pain a minute ago."

"Shut up, Triton, it was in my ear. But, he didn't mean to," Percy added hastily because Poseidon still looked ready to murder. "He was just like . . . lost?"

"He crawled into your ear." Poseidon looked the absolute opposite of forgiving, and Percy almost flinched at the harden anger on his face. "I heard you screaming."

Oh gods, that was embarrassing. Percy's face grew hot. "Ah yes, well, sorry—"

"He hurt you."

"He didn't mean to," Percy repeated, exasperate. "It was probably just an accident. He just got too close and maybe I rolled over on him or something and he couldn't find his way out."

"You are still in pain."

"A little," Percy admitted, knowing better than to lie. "But he didn't mean to. Look at him, he probably just wanted to swim by, say hi, not crawl around in my ear. He was all ready to let you crush him."

Percy opened his palm enough to peek down at the sad little krill. The pink creature curled against Percy's thumb, its near translucence body trembling in misery. He was actually kind of cute for something that had been crawling around in Percy's ear and causing head splitting pain a moment ago.

"Only you would get attached to a damn krill," Triton exclaimed, throwing his hand in the air.

"He caused you pain," Poseidon repeated, not giving up the point, crossing his arms and glaring at the tiny krill with so much malevolence that Percy was amazed it didn't burst into flames from the sheer intensity.

Percy thought for a moment. "Tyson cracked a rib the other day when he hugged me."

"Tyson cracked a rib, dammit, why didn't you tell anyone, lift up your shirt, let me see—"

Percy looked at his father as he swatted Triton's motherhenning efforts away. "But you're not going to punish him for that because he didn't mean to either. I mean, if we're talking about things that cause me pain, there is a really, really long list, and frankly in like terms of magnitude and mental scarring, this one is totally low on that list. There are like a million things above it and this wasn't even purposeful—and for crying out loud, Triton knock it off, I'm fine, I'm fine, it healed in like three hours, I'm in the ocean, remember? Honestly."

Triton didn't look satisfied as Percy shoved him off, mindful of the krill tucked under his thumb. The sea prince sat back and Percy grunted as he settled half on Percy's legs, but decided to ignore him, looking up at his father instead.

"I'm okay, Dad," Percy said honestly. "My head hurts a little—"

"A lot."

"Okay, my head hurts a little bit more than a little—"

"You screamed like a baby—"

"I did not—"

"I can literally feel your pain from here."

"For Dad's sake, Triton shut up." Percy threw his pillow at Triton's stupid face. "I'm fine, I'm fine, really. It freaked me out more than anything and I'm sorry I freaked you out, but it's all good. It's fine, really." He gave his dad a small smile. "I am okay, Dad."

"Stubborn child," Poseidon sighed, but he uncrossed his arms, his murderous aura fading into something far softer.

That made Percy smile in earnest and, to his surprise, a small, albeit exasperate, answering smile flickered upon the sea lord's face.

"You're too forgiving," Poseidon scolded. "Come here."

He reached his hands out and without thinking, Percy submitted his head for investigation. Poseidon's calloused fingers spread out over Percy's skull and almost immediately the lingering sharp stabs of pain retreated, the aching in his ears vanishing without a trace. It was a tender gesture and one of the few times Poseidon had actually touched Percy since he traveled down to his father's domain. It made something stick to Percy's throat and filled his chest with warmth.

"There," Poseidon said, releasing him and swimming back a pace.

Percy stared down at his hands for a beat, watching the krill as it trembled and shook, not quite daring to look up right away. "Thanks, Dad."

Poseidon shook his head but there was an unmistakable fondness in his expression when Percy dared to lift his head. "If Zeus discovers our deceit because of that creature . . ."

"Ah," Percy said, fighting the urge to laugh nervously at the weight of the unspoken threat. A few more words were traded, but when Poseidon departed ten minutes later, the krill was alive and safely tucked in the palm of Percy's hand.

"Do I want to know what he'd do?" Percy asked Triton once their father had gone.

"No." Triton eyed the krill distrustfully. "Now tell me about those cracked ribs." 

Chapter Text

"He's drunk."

"Oh heyyy Tri, it's your mom." Percy grinned up at Amphitrite, trying to point the beautiful sea goddess out to his brother but the world was spinning a little and she kept moving, or maybe the room was moving, was he the one moving?

"Yes."

Triton sat at the other end of the couch Percy crashed on. One of Percy's legs was thrown across Triton's lap, the other dangling listlessly off the couch. Triton had a firm grasp on Percy's ankle, like he could stop Percy from falling off or something by this weird tether.

"Tri, your mom is soooo pretty, did you know that Tri? Tri?" 

Amphitrite's lips curled upward a little. She reached out and gently patted Percy on the head, her fingers carding through his hair. Her outfit shone brilliantly in the little waiting room/sitting area/whatever Triton had snuck Percy into, her gown a series of vibrant blues that mimicked the Caribbean Sea. Come to think of it, it might actually be the Caribbean Sea, Percy wouldn't put it past Poseidon to literally capture part of the sea and fashion it into an outfit for his wife to—oh Triton was talking.

"He was feeling uncomfortable at Father's banquet."

"So you thought the appropriate response was to get him drunk?"

"I thought it might help. I did not realize he was such a lightweight."

"That was alcohol?" Percy asked in surprise, leaning into Amphitrite's touch like a kitten, nuzzling his cheek into her palm. "You told me it was punch."

"You told him it was punch."

"I doubted he would consume it if he knew it was alcohol."

"So you did get him drunk."

There was a long pause, Triton's thumb rubbing back and forth on Percy's ankle.

"I might have gotten him a little drunk."

"I'm totally fine," Percy assured Amphitrite, drawing the o out in what he felt was a totally reassuring manner. "The room is only kind of spinning."

"You are in so much trouble."

"Sorry."

"Not you Percy, Triton is in trouble."

"Ooooh, Tri's in trouuubllee."

Percy grinned down at his brother, laughing at Triton's outraged expression. Percy twisted on the couch, throwing his other leg onto Triton's lap and digging his heels into the minor god's hips just to be annoying. Triton huffed but reached out to capture Percy's other ankle as well.

"I did not realize it would affect him so."

"You fed him alcohol without his knowledge and now he can't even stand straight."

"Aww, don't be mean to Tri, he was trying to help." Percy couldn't help but interject, feeling bad that Triton was getting the third degree when usually it was Percy that got in trouble. He lowered his voice, leaning in closer to the goddess, "He's just really, really bad at it but don't tell him."

Amphitrite looked down at him, her hand still on his cheek. Her thumb gently traced the shape of his nose, index finger tapping the tip in a sweet, gentle gesture that made Percy grin wider. His stepmom was like really nice, wow how could he ever have thought she was mean?

"Come on, let's get you to bed and we can decide who is in trouble later, okay?"

"Gotcha, lemme just—"

"No, no, no, don't sit up so fast—"

"Oh, I don't feel so good," Percy groaned as his stomach rebelled at the sudden movement.

"Don't you dare vomit on me, turn that way—"

"Who says vomit? Don't you dare vomit on me," Percy repeated, mocking Triton's pretentious tone even as he curled miserably into himself. "If I puke on anyone, it's gonna be you, I'm not gonna puke on Mom."

Percy's stomach rolled in a way that stomachs were not supposed to roll and Percy moaned, burying his face in his knees, which nearly sent him toppling from the couch except the water fortified around him, keeping him steady. Percy wasn't sure who he had to thank for that, Amphitrite or Triton, but he was in no condition to thank either. There was like a seventy percent chance that words would not be what came out of his mouth.

Percy stayed in that position, head tucked between his knees and held up solely by the force of the ocean until his stomach finally settled down. When the puke danger level decreased to about a thirteen percent, he uncurled himself and glanced up at his companions.

He slowly became aware of several things over a much too long period of time: one, that Triton's grip on his ankles was actually kind of painful; two, neither deity was looking at him; and three, Amphitrite's eyes were closed.

"I didn't . . . I didn't puke, did I?"

"No, Percy, you did not," Amphitrite said, looking up, and her eyes were weird, actually her voice was a little weird, and she was blinking an awful lot, but maybe that was Percy's imagination. He was seeing a lot of weird things lately.

"Come on, let's get him to bed," Amphitrite told Triton, leaning down to help her stepson up. "Sit up slowly, here let us help you."

The pair manhandled him into a sitting position, then to his feet with slow movements that made the room spin harder, but the contents of his stomach remained where they were so that was a win. Percy blinked and suddenly he was in his bedroom, a blanket being tucked under his chin.

"This room is not spinning," he told Amphitrite, hoping that would please her since the previous spinning room seemed to contribute to her disapproval.

"I'm glad to hear it. Go to sleep and when you wake, none of the rooms shall be spinning."

"Awesome." Percy grinned, closing his eyes. "Oh hey, don't be too mad at Tri. I knew the punch tasted weird but I thought it was a weird god-thing. Should have guessed what it was. Too used to smelling cheap beer I guess, not godly wine or whatever it was and—"

"Shhh," Amphitrite bid and soft hands were fluffing his pillow, tucking the blanket more securely around his form. "Peace. It . . . it is not always on you to lay blame. Rest, my little prince, we will speak more of in the morning."

Chapter Text

"Oh, wow this is awkward, I didn't think you were done monologuing. Man, Annabeth's gonna kill me."

Percy stared at the knife embedded in his shoulder, grateful that at least the sudden movement roused his consciousness enough from its bored stupor to step just out of fatal stabbing range. Thus, the knife-in-shoulder-not-in-chest thing.

"Monologuing?" the monster gawked, looking equally as surprised as Percy about the whole situation.

"Yeah, you kept going on and on, and usually it takes longer. Guess your backstory wasn't all that tragic. Hey, do you mind taking it out or, you know what, I got it—"

Best not give the monster back its weapon, Percy supposed, taking a few steps away from the stunned monster while grasping the knife with the opposite hand and yanking it out.

A fresh blossom of pain shot down Percy's arm, warm blood oozing out of the fresh wound, but he ignored it. The monster recovered from its shock, realizing that it had achieved and then subsequently lost the upper hand. It would have been funny, except, you know, he got stabbed.

"No hard feelings, I'm sure it was a semi-interesting backstory," Percy said as the monster lunged at him. Percy didn't even bother uncapping Riptide, slicing the monster through with its own knife.

"Probably a solid four, maybe five outta ten on the interesting scale, I mean you did tick off somebody enough for Chiron to send me out so there's that, man that hurts," Percy complained, rolling his shoulder as the monster dissolved into a cloud of golden dust.

Blood sluggishly dripped down his shoulder, and Percy sighed in annoyance. The call from Chiron came in as he was walking home from school, so he didn't have time to run and grab ambrosia or anything of the sort. It's pretty late, maybe no one on the subway will notice, Percy thought as he shrugged off his shirt and tried to assess the damage.

A light breeze ruffled Percy's hair, bringing with it the subtle hint of the ocean. Oh no, Percy only had a second to think before rough hands were grabbing him and turning him around.

"What were you doing?" Triton demanded angrily, pressing his palm flat against the bleeding hole in his idiot brother's shoulder.

"You guys always act like I do this on purpose, I wasn't trying to get stabbed—are you even supposed to be here—"

"There was a monster literally right in front of you and you zoned out—"

"He was a really bad storyteller, I was super bored—"

"Perseus Jackson—"

"Don't full-name me, it's fine, he barely stabbed me. Zeus isn't going to strike me with lightning for you being here is he?"

"Do you think I would come here if he would?" Triton snapped, pulling his hand back and inspecting the now healing wound.

"Don't kidnap me again, I have a geometry test tomorrow."

"Zeus still thinks I hate you."

"Yeah because you're super convincing."

"And you're a super idiot." Triton's eyes flashed. "What were you thinking Perseus? I was just sitting there, trying to listen to court, and suddenly, your dumbass gets stabbed."

"Wait, are you keeping tabs on me now?"

"You are part of the ocean you idiot." Triton whacked him upside the head, but the blow lacked any true heat. It was more like a weirdly aggressive ruffling of hair. "As am I, as is Father. Of course we know when you've been hurt. Father normally can't do anything about it, and I didn't care enough to notice before."

Triton scowled down at him and Percy felt . . . weirdly guilty. There was also this weird sort of glowing feeling? I didn't care enough to notice before.

"I'm sorry I startled you."

"You were stabbed, Perseus."

"Oh my gods, barely Triton, honestly—"

"Barely? Barely? For Father's sake, Percy there's no such thing as barely stabbed, I swear—that's it you're coming back home, geometry's not a useful subject for a demigod anyway."

Chapter Text

“Triiiii, you back?” Percy asked, eyes closed because the room kept spinning.

The youngest son of Poseidon felt the presence move closer but didn’t bother opening his eyes. Nobody was going to hurt him, not here. Besides, the sea deities emitted an aura, a distinctive aura that settled across Percy’s skin like waves rolling in the sea, curling around him in a powerful, comforting embrace. His brother gave off such an aura as he came closer.

“Triii, what was in that drink?” Percy complained as his brother drew closer, reaching his arms out. “Did you tell Dad we’re leaving? My head hurts, why is it so hot, the room is still spinning Tri—” 

“Triton gave you the wine, didn’t he?” 

“Wine, what wine?” Percy pried his eyes open as the voice, deeper than he expected, washed over him. He squinted in the bright greenish-blue light of the palace as the tall, imposing figure of the sea god came into focus. 

The Lord of the Sea was dressed otherworldly, his dual fins flashing with every movement, his shirt a kaleidoscope of images, shimmering in and out of focus: silver scales in the moonlight, inky depths of an abyss, crystal blue waves on snow-white beaches, brewing storms on the open ocean. Poseidon exhaled through his nose at Percy’s words, it almost might have been a laugh, but the ocean roared too loud in Percy’s ears so he couldn't tell. The roaring was louder than normal. It was hard to think. Poseidon’s weird color-changing shirt wasn’t helping.

“He left you in the foyer,” Poseidon noted with a frown as he drew closer.

“What?”

“Triton left you in the foyer,” Poseidon repeated with disapproval. “In this condition.”

“Triton went to tell you we’re leaving!” Percy defended, letting his head fall back against the palace wall. He wasn’t sure why he was defending Triton, the traitor left him in the spinning hallway, but—“Oh! Hey, Dad, we’ve leaving. Sorry. I feel weird.”

Poseidon huffed again, and Percy was pretty sure it was amusement this time. He couldn’t help but grin at the sound, but his face didn’t really want to cooperate. Half of it twisted up, the other half kind of squiggled uselessly.  

“Yes, it’s Triton’s fault. Come, sit on the couch least you fall over.”

“I’m good!” Percy objected. “Triton said to wait here. Normally I’d ign-ign-ugh stupid tongue. Not listen. Normally, I’d not listen to him, but the room is spinning weirdly when I walk too much. I don’t feel good.”

“I know, my son.” Poseidon smiled, and he looked pretty good when he smiled. Like younger, could a god look younger?, and dad-er, more dad, like Paul when Percy got anything above a C in school—

“Percy—”

Percy didn’t realize he was sliding down the wall until Poseidon stepped forward. His father reached out for him, hesitating just short of actually touching Percy.

“Whoops, I’m good. Good, good, good.” Percy flapped his hand as if to brush Poseidon’s concern away but his dad kept getting taller, no wait, Percy was getting shorter, no wait, Percy might be falling—

Poseidon grabbed Percy around the waist, careful not to touch Percy’s possibly feverish skin (was he sick?), and gently propped the demigod back on his feet. Orrrr tried to at least. Percy’s feet didn’t want to work. Maybe his knees didn’t want to work. Could be the entire leg. Legs. Singular leg? Both legs. Plural. Plural legs.

“Percy, can you walk?”

“Hmm, maybe. Can you make the room stop spinning?”

“I will do my best.”

“Thanks.”

Poseidon tried to tug the demigod forward, doing this whole walking thing, but Percy’s legs were being rude so it wasn’t working out the best.

“Hm, can’t I just sleep here on the floor?”

“I would prefer if we could get you to bed—”

“Father? I was searching for you. Perseus, oh you found him.”

“Triiii, you were gone for so long,” Percy accused as Poseidon half turned to survey his eldest. “I found Dad. Why were you gone for so long?”

Triton, emerging from a door somewhere behind Poseidon, ignored Percy. There was a pause (Triton was probably bowing or whatever), then, “Father, you shouldn’t be—”

Percy tried to peek at his brother over Poseidon’s shoulder and maybe it was his imagination but he could have sworn Poseidon held him a little bit tighter as Triton swam into the room.

“Here, let me assist—”

“Noo,” Percy whined and fell into Poseidon, feeling vindictive as Triton tried to reach out towards the demigod. Percy buried his face in Poseidon’s neck, taking comfort in the all-encompassing aura of the ocean and safety and home that the sea lord exuded.  “Dad, don’t let him take me. He gave me weird-smelling punch and left me in the weird spinning hallway.”

Instinctively, Poseidon caught Percy as his son fell into him, the arm that steadied the demigod drawing him closer, his other hand coming up to cup Percy’s head.

“Daaad.” Percy’s voice was muffled. “Daaad, don’t let him take me, he’s been mean to me allll night, I want to stay here.”

“Father . . . Zeus—he will . . . if he’s—”

“I know. I know.”

“Hm?” Percy’s brow furrowed as he let his eyes close again. Zeus was obnoxious sure, but Poseidon wouldn’t let him bother Percy when he was sick, so Percy didn’t really care. He still felt super weird, but he was warm and comfortable here. Zeus was a problem for tomorrow.

“Percy, let Triton help you to the couch. Stay there until you feel a little better and he’ll help you back to your room.”

“Hmfph, do I have to?” 

“I am asking you to.”

A callused hand ran through Percy’s hair, careful only to ruffle the strands, not any deeper.

“But Tri’s being mean to me.”

“Do you really believe that?”

Percy’s face screwed up. “No . . . but he gave me the weird punch.”

“Yes, he was under the mistaken and misguided impression that it would help. He was trying to help you.”

“. . . I know.”

“Will you go to the couch?”

“. . . fine . . .”

“Triton—”

Percy grumbled, eyes still closed, as the deities shuffled him around. He wanted to complain as Triton pulled him away from the safety of the ocean, from Poseidon’s dad-er smile, and the callused hand fell away from his hair.

“Thank you.” Poseidon didn’t sound very thankful and when Percy pried his eyes open to squint back at his father, he had the fleeting thought that the Lord of the Sea appeared almost . . . wistful.

Chapter Text

The pounding that rang through his head was too dull to be concussion induced, but too sharp to be sleep deprivation. Percy groaned, scrunching up his face and burrowing deeper into the bedding.

“Wake.” The voice was soft and gentle, a cool hand on his forehead.

Percy jerked, hand reflexively going to the pen under his pillow. The hand on his forehead pushed some sweaty hair back from his clammy eyebrows and the motion was so tender that Percy’s fingers didn’t even close around Riptide.

 “Good morning, my sleepy prince.”

Percy cracked an eye open –and immediately regretted it as the light assaulted his poor, innocent, aching eyes. A high-pitched whine may or may not have escaped his dry lips, head pounding with renewed vengeance.

“The lights are dimmer now, open your eyes slowly.”

Percy squinted at up at the owner of the calm voice; there was a nagging voice at the back of his head that said he should be more wary and suspicious, but the lull of the voice was laced with something comforting and familiar—

Queen Amphitrite smiled down at him, her hand gently carding through his hair.

“Am I dying?” Percy croaked, not sure what was more suspicious: the pounding in his head or the queen of the ocean bathed in blue light standing over his bed.

The hand gently swatted about his ears. “Perish the thought, no. How do you feel?”

“Like someone bashed my head in.”

Amphitrite made a sympathetic noise, and really the thing she was doing, scratching lightly behind his ear as she tucked his hair away, that…that was really nice. Should he be concerned? He felt like maybe he should be. 

“Yes, that seems to be a common side effect for mortals. Here, let’s get you up. I hear showers help.”

“We can take showers underwater?” Percy mumbled as Amphitrite bustled around the room, doing gods only knows what. The sound aggravated Percy’s head, which rang like a horde of hellhounds were running amok around his skull. He wondered how rude it would be to go back to sleep.

“There is not usually a need, but we can make it work. Here, up, up.”

If it were Triton, or Paul, or literally anybody other than a mom, Percy would have whined and curled into a pathetic ball of pain and regret, but the thought of telling Amphitrite ‘no’ wasn’t even an option. Percy dragged himself into an upright position, and bit his lip so hard he tasted blood. Oh gods kill him now, his head was going to split in half. Dear Poseidon, he was going to be sick.

“There, there, slow, go slow.”

Amphitrite was at his side in an instant, cool hand back on his forehead, the other rubbing slow circles on his back.

“Come on, shower.”

Percy let the queen of the ocean manhandle him to her feet and towards the bathroom adjourned to his room. The lights had been dimmed so they only mildly assaulted his eyes and . . . and there was now a shower in his bathroom.

Huh.

“There’s . . . how?”

Amphitrite chuckled, the sound soft and gentle like a bubbling creak, and push him into the bathroom.

“Come to breakfast when you are finished.”

Percy stood, swaying slightly in the doorway, blinking stupidly as the goddess swam from the room. A shower? Under the sea? Percy looked back at the shower, uncomprehending.

I’m too sick for this, he thought but curiosity got the better of him and he crept forward. When he pulled back the curtain, it revealed a pristine shower complete with shampoo and all, the space encased in—Percy couldn’t help snorting out loud—a pocket of air.

“An air pocket so I can shower then go back into the ocean,” Percy muttered, which was a mistake as the sound echoed in his throbbing head.

But he was already stripping out of his clothes, eager to test the shower out regardless of its ridiculousness. The shower did in fact make him feel better, if only marginally. Maybe it was a psychological thing. Annabeth would probably know. Although he felt slightly more human, he still wanted to crawl under the blankets and maybe die there, except then Annabeth would kill him. Or something. Gods he wanted to go back to sleep.

“Breakfast,” Percy reminded himself, vaguely recalling the queen of ocean requesting his presence so he should probably not ignore that.

Right. Go to breakfast. That shouldn’t be too hard, except his stomach rolled at the thought. Clothes. He should start with clean clothes. 

“Oh, for Olympus’s sake are you still getting dressed? Mother wants you for breakfast, hurry.”

Percy choked on nothing, yanking a clean shirt over his head with more force than likely wise given his current state, and whirled on the figure in the door. His memories from the night before came back to him in a tangle, semi-coherent mess at his brother’s rude interruption, but that hardly matter because—

“Oh gods.”

Triton frowned, swimming closer. “What? Are you going to be sick? Seriously Perseus, have you never had a hangover before—”

“Triton.” His brother’s brow furrowed in alarm as Percy lurched forward, grabbing him by the arm. “I called her Mom.”

Chapter Text

Percy walked with his shoulders hunched against the wind, hands shoved deep in his pockets to protect them from the early autumn chill. His teeth were on edge not from the biting wind but rather the itch under his skin that warned he was being watched. 

The only question was by whom.

He first became aware of the sensation three blocks back, but no monster had jumped him. A small part of him had hoped it was Triton come to steal him away again (school was dull and the air was cold and Annabeth loved her new classes, a few days under the sea wouldn't hurt anyone).

But his brother wasn't the patient sort, nor was he the sort to put Percy on edge just for a joke. So, someone else had been watching him for the last three blocks, and frankly, the suspense was starting to grate on Percy's nerves.

"Would you just get it over with it?" Percy snarled at the fourth block mark, whirling around to scan the shadows as he pulled Riptide from his pocket.

"If you insist."

Percy, who had been expecting a flash of teeth and claws, was wholly unprepared as Hades, Lord of the Underworld, materialized from the shadows.

Oh Styx, he barely had time to think before the world tilted and was engulfed in black. In the blink of an eye, they were standing in Hades' throne room in the heart of the Underworld.

"Um," Percy said, Riptide still uncapped in one hand.

Hades didn't pay him any mind. In fact, the god actually turned his back on Percy and strode to his throne. Percy watched, struck dumb, as his uncle settled on the throne, setting his helm of darkness at his side.

"Um," Percy repeated. He still wasn't sure if he should be uncapping Riptide or not.

Just when he thought he was starting to get the hang of this whole demigod business, weird things like the lord of the underworld kidnapping you in broad daylight without so much as a how you do went and happened.

Were Hades and Dad fighting?

"Can I help you?" Percy finally asked when it became clear Hades was more interested in staring at the wall than offering any explanation.

"No."

"Okay...is Nico in trouble?"

A frown. "No."

"Cool. Are you fighting with Dad?"

"Generally, but nothing specific at the moment."

"Right, that's not vague or confusing at all," Percy muttered at the typical not-answer. 

Hades' jaw was clenched so tight, Percy was impressed he hadn't broken anything (if gods could break teeth?). As weird as the whole ordeal was, Percy felt reasonably certain at this point that Hades wasn't out to hurt him. At least not at the moment.

"Your father asked me a favor."

"Huh?" Percy's brow furrowed as he stared at Hades' stony face – then realization hit. "Oh. Oh gods, he asked you to kidnap me."

Hades' eye twitched, which was all the confirmation Percy needed.

"Oh gods, he did." Percy couldn't stop the disbelieving, half-hysterical laugh that bubbled up in his chest from spilling out until he was laughing uncontrollably.

What had Poseidon been thinking?!

His father was mad, and Percy must be too because he could have sworn the corner of Hades' mouth turned up just a smidge at Percy's nervous breakdown.

"He bid me keep you here for a day, then his heir will collect you."

Percy wanted to know what Poseidon had traded for this favor but quickly thought against it. He didn't want to know. He pressed a hand against his mouth to stem the tide of nervous laughter. Hades was still staring avidly at the wall as though it contained all the secrets of the world, but oh gods that definitely an almost-smile on his face.

How was this Percy's life?

"Um, okay, got it, yeah sure," Percy said, trying to keep his voice even and level. "Cool. So just…chilling in the underworld until Triton comes to pick me up."

"…essentially."

"I don't suppose Nico is here?" It seemed too good to be true—

"No."

Of course, he wasn't. "Yeah, that sounds like my luck."

Hades heaved a sigh, finally looking at Percy instead of the back wall. "Indeed."

This was going to be a long afternoon.

Chapter Text

Triton’s eyes were dark and stormed with barely contained emotion. The sea raged in eyes bluer than their depths, rolling and crashing, the tumultuous harbinger of destruction. Percy could feel the ocean’s sway in the very marrow of his bones. A thrill of honest-to-Poseidon fear ran through him. It wasn’t a bodily fear; no, unlike the night nearly two months ago when his brother kidnapped him in broad daylight, now Triton bore no ill-will against the demigod bastard of their father. Even if Triton's intentions were malevolent in nature, the threat of violence wasn’t enough to scare Percy.

But this particular look in Triton’s eyes stirred genuine fear in Percy’s heart. For a terrible moment, Percy was afraid Triton would steal him away again, beneath the ocean’s wave, but this time in a permanent, never to see the air of Earth again fashion, sealing the sea prince forever in their father’s palace. Triton’s face convulsed, clearly registering the fear in his brother’s eyes.

The storm quelled in Triton’s countenance, the expression falling into something . . . something almost heartbroken.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you love them more than us?”

Triton searched Percy’s face, lips tight and downturned, and Percy was uncomfortably reminded of a younger version of himself, angry at the father who left, who didn’t love him enough to stay.

“Well for one, because they’ve been my family longer.” The words were bitter and Triton flinched as though Percy physically struck him.

“She’s my mom, Triton,” Percy said, blowing out a long breath and scratching the back of his head. “She’s my . . . she was there for me when no one else was, she sacrificed so much for me and I can’t—I can’t just leave her because you guys come sweeping in when it’s convenient for you. I mean, these past few weeks have been great, Tri, really, and I’m so, so grateful for you. You guys are . . . being there was . . .”

Percy was terrible with words on a good day, and today very much was not a good day. Triton was drilling holes in the side of his head and Percy didn’t know where to look or what to say.

“We could be there for you, if you let us.”

“But you can’t, Tri,” Percy snapped, losing his temper and finally looking back up at the god. “You can’t and you know it. Sooner or later, Zeus will put his foot down and that’ll be the end of it.”

Triton stared down at the demigod, his face impassive. “Zeus offered you godhood once before, he would not object if—”

Percy was shaking his head before Triton even finished, blood roaring in his ears as his earlier panic ebbed back into his heart. “No, no—”

“You won’t even think about it.”

The cold fury in his brother's voice drained Percy of his own. Triton was right, Percy wouldn't even entertain the idea. Not now, not ever. Nothing he or Amphitrite or even Poseidon himself could ever say or do could shake his resolve.

“Because I’m selfish,” Percy admitted, looking away from Triton once more and towards the city behind them. Somewhere in the distance, his mom was likely putting his sister to bed, all warm smiles and gentle laughs. Paul was grading papers or putting away dishes or helping his mom get the baby ready for the night. Annabeth was up late, sketching her latest design while waiting for him to come home. “As a mortal, I get to have you both, my mortal family and my immortal family. I’ll die long before my mom and sister, and you’ll never die. I won’t ever have to worry about being left behind. I get you both.”

“Besides,” Percy said, steeling his heart and still refusing to meet his brother’s eyes. “You’ll get over it with time.”

But I’d never get over them was left unspoken.

“You’re a greater fool than I thought if you think that’s true,” came the cold reply.

And because he was selfish, Percy closed his eyes so he didn’t have to see as his brother disappeared, leaving the demigod behind.

Chapter Text

It was going to be a bad day. They happened more and more lately; Paul was learning to read the warning signs that one was brewing. He was at once grateful for the insight and resentful that he needed it.

Paul knew from the moment Percy emerged from his room that morning that today would be such a day. The boy, normally loud and clumsy after waking (in the way teenagers should be), was silent, every movement deliberate and careful. His fingers constantly twitched and plunged into his pockets, eyes staring at shadows Paul couldn’t see. Paul expected the boy to slip out during the day and abandon his classes to find Annabeth or the ocean. He had clasped Percy on the shoulder before they went their separate ways after breakfast, trying to impress love and understanding without words.

It was a bad day, so Paul started when he found his stepson in his office after the final bell rang. Percy sat gracelessly in one of Paul’s uncomfortable plastic office chairs – well ‘sat’ was an overly generous term for the way Percy sprawled, legs thrown over the arm of the chair, one hand firmly lodged in his pocket while the other fiddled with anything within reach on Paul’s desk.

“Hey Percy,” Paul said, keeping his voice level and calm, as if he wasn’t surprised to find the demigod waiting. “Let me just put a few things away, and maybe we can grab a pizza on the way home?”

Percy made a vague noise to indicate he heard but otherwise made no comment, still fiddling with the papers within his reach. His eyes briefly flickered over Paul, searching him from top to bottom (checking for injuries or perhaps just making sure Paul was real – either way, it made his heart ache), before flitting around the room, stopping on every shadow.

Paul opened his mouth to say something more, something useless to fill the silence as he filed away his plans for the day when shouting suddenly broke out in the halls. Paul couldn’t stop his body from tensing, reaching out towards Percy.

“It’s just other students.”

Percy’s eye twitched but otherwise seemed unbothered by the shouting. “Yeah, I know.”

“Okay, good, good. I’ll just, hang on a moment, let me just—” Paul floundered, feeling off-balance as he tried to pull his attention away from his twitchy stepson.

He forked a thumb towards the hall, but Percy didn’t pay him any attention, eyes back to searching the shadows. Right, Paul thought, pushing away his parental concerns in favor of playing teacher, and ducked out of his office into the hall.

“Hey kids, we doing alright?” Paul called casually, striding towards the disturbance.

Two seniors at the end of the hall whirled at his voice. As he closed the gap between them, he saw the unmistakable signs of trouble: anger-flushed faces, clenched fists, and papers strewn across the floor under the boys who stared daggers at one another.

“It’s none of your business, Blofis,” the taller of the boys (Anderson, Paul’s mind helpfully supplied) snarled.

“Well now, you see—” Paul began when both teenagers suddenly tensed, faces paling.

“Um, actually we were just—” Anderson stammered. 

“Gonna go, yeah, going, sorry Blofis—” the other boy cut in.

“Mr. Blofis—”

“Mr. Blofis, right, yeah, sorry—”

The boys nearly tripped over each other in their haste to backpedal, hurriedly grabbing their things as they all but ran away from Paul.

“Um, okay, are you sure you don’t want to talk about this?” Paul called, confused and rather alarmed as they retreated, but neither teen even so much as looked back as they ran out of sight.

Weird, Paul thought, shaking his head. Maybe he'd reach out to their homeroom teachers, to see if they had any insight into this odd behavior. He turned, still puzzled, and almost had a heart attack when he found Percy standing at his side.

“Percy!” Paul grabbed his chest, heart pounding. “You scared me, I didn’t hear you coming.”

Percy stood at his full height just a breath behind Paul, back perfectly straight and shoulders squared. His eyes were fixed unblinkingly at the place where the other teenagers disappeared. The absolute stillness was a shocking contrast to the restless teen Paul left moments before. Percy didn’t even blink at Paul’s startled shout, and, for a moment, Paul found himself looking at Perseus Jackson, son of Poseidon and equal parts hero and bane of Olympus, the one that monsters checked their closets for at night and whose story would be told for centuries to come.  

“Percy?” Paul didn’t dare reach out and touch the demigod. “Hey, buddy, it’s okay. Everything is okay.”

Percy turned his unblinking gaze to Paul and for a terrible second Paul saw the ocean in their depths, storming and unpredictable. The very air around them buzzed with it, the roar of the tide loud in the silence. Then the son of Poseidon blinked, and it was gone.

“Yeah. So . . . pizza?” Percy asked, slouching forward and shoving his hands back into his pockets.

“Pizza,” Paul confirmed and, realizing it was safe now, reached out to place a hand on his stepson’s back. Percy’s eyes crinkled as he gave Paul a half-smile, leaning into the contact. “Whatever you want, bud.”

Chapter Text

Percy wasn’t good with silence, which was only kind of a problem.

It totally wasn’t a problem when he was at camp – there was plenty of action and noise and monsters to keep the silence at bay. Well, except sometimes in his cabin alone at night, which, to be completely honest, was also only kind of a problem because it was easy to slip out of bed and find something to occupy his mind. It was decidedly a problem at school, but Paul was working on getting him accommodations for it (something about white noise and being able to leave the classroom – the term PTSD may or may not have been used and Percy kind of pretended not to hear anything when that discussion arose).

And great, now his hands were shaking slightly, which was exactly the reason why he hated silence and being left alone with his own thoughts. Oh, sweet Poseidon, where was Triton when he actually needed him?

“Seen any interesting dead people lately?” the question blurted out without Percy’s express permission, but honestly it was Hades’ fault for kidnapping him and then ignoring him. Or Poseidon’s fault for not asking Apollo or someone fun to kidnap Percy.

Or Zeus’s fault for being Zeus.

The question startled Hades into actually looking at Percy at least. “Your mind must be a terrifying place if you cannot stand even a few minutes of silence.”

Okay, rude. Accurate, but rude.

“I bet you see a lot of weird dead people.”

“If these are the thoughts that compel you to fill the silence, I can see why you would not desire to be alone with them.”

“Nico must get all his sass from you, huh?”

It was undoubtedly a terrible, borderline suicidal idea to tease the literal god of the dead, but it was hard to remember that when his uncle was brooding and avoiding Percy’s eyes. For a moment, Percy was strongly reminded of Nico, who often looked the same way when he was uncomfortable or surrounded by too many people. 

“Stop that,” Hades commanded.

“Stop what?”

“That pitying look in your eye.”

“I wasn’t pitying you,” Percy said, blinking in surprise as he shoved his hands in his pocket. The underworld was cold. “I was thinking that you reminded me of Nico. I haven’t seen him in a while.”

He hesitated, glancing around Hades’ throne room for something diverting. It really hadn’t changed at all since the last time he was here. Percy rocked back and forth on his heels, debating. It was probably harmless enough to admit: “I miss him.”

Hades tilted his head, dark eyes suddenly trained back on Percy. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t so harmless. “Anyway,” Percy said, his voice loud, “so no interesting dead people—”

“It is not I that judges them you realize,” Hades drawled, one dark eyebrow raising. “You have been here before.”

“Yeah, but like, don’t you check in on the judges sometimes? Help out with important or weird cases?”

“Believe it or not,” Hades’s voice was dry, “I am more preoccupied with running the Underworld than judging the insignificant mortals that come through these halls. There are millions and they are never-ending. Truly important judgments are rare.”

“Bureaucracy, even in death,” Percy sagely replied, nodding seriously despite having absolutely no clue what running the Underworld entailed. Probably a lot of complaining, continuously expanding . . . gods that was so boring.

“Indeed.” And, because Hades was a terrible conversationalist, silence descended again. Oh gods, Percy was going to go mad or get himself killed by annoying Hades into violence before Triton ever got here.

“Perhaps you would like to see where Nico stays.”

“Huh?” Percy’s brow furrowed. He must have misheard; was Hades seriously volunteering to play tour guide? What in Tartarus even was his life?

Hades stood and Percy automatically took a step back, but his uncle merely descended from his throne and approached the demigod.

“It is better than listening to whatever other drivel you might subject me to. Come,” the god demanded. “Perhaps you will have some . . . insight on the arrangement.”

“You want to know if I think Nico likes his room?” Percy translated.

Hades frowned at him. “One of these days child, someone will not tolerate your impertinence and deliver you directly to my shores.”

“Yeah probably—”

“Yes, Perseus, I wish to know if my son’s room is to his liking as he is unlikely to volunteer his opinion on the matter. And, Fates preserve me, you may have some noteworthy suggestions.”

“Ah okay, yeah I can—”

“Stop talking,” his uncle demanded and ushered the demigod out of the throne room.

All in all, it wasn’t the weirdest day Percy ever had. In the top five for sure, but not the weirdest. And certainly not the worst. He was almost a little disappointed when Triton finally showed up to bring him home, scowling and squinting suspiciously at Hades. Almost. The Underworld obviously couldn't hold a candle to Poseidon's castle.

“Thanks, Uncle Hades.” Percy surprised himself by genuinely meaning the farewell as Triton wrapped a protective arm around his shoulder, pulling the demigod closer.

Hades inclined his head a fraction. Percy’s mouth hitched up slightly and, although it might have just been a trick of the light, the lord of the dead almost seemed to smile in reply.

“Perseus,” Hades called as Percy started to turn away.

“Hm?”

“I did actually meet an . . . interesting deceased mortal not too long ago, as you might say.”

“Oh?” Percy asked, grinning, his interest piqued as he turned back to his uncle.

“Gabe Ugliano was the name.”

Percy’s grin vanished.

“Your father was very specific in his request for Ugliano’s eternal damnation.”

Hades smiled and any resemblance to Nico fell away, a cold chill gripping the air and for a moment, Percy held his breath, not quite afraid but keenly aware of the power emanating from the Lord of the Dead.

“Have a good trip, nephew.”

Chapter Text

Percy was sitting in bed, drifting in and out of sleep as he waited for the doctor to return, when the door opened and a tall figure slipped inside his hospital room. His mom had left an hour ago to put Estelle to bed, having promised to be back before his surgery, and Paul was going to stay with Estelle, so the figure creeping into his room now wasn’t part of his mortal family. Percy knew who it was even before he cracked open an eye to peer blearily up at his visitor. 

“Hello, Tri,” Percy said when the figure loomed over him, scowling down at the drowsy demigod.

“Don’t ‘hello, Tri’ me, Perseus,” Triton snapped, scowling harder as he scanned the demigod over, fingers ghosting over Percy’s slumped form to find any injuries. 

“Stop that,” Percy said, slapping his brother’s hands away and regretting the sharp movement when it sent stabbing pain down his side.

“Why are you in the mortal hospital?” Triton demanded, undeterred by Percy’s rejection of his fussing and continuing to try and find an injury. “And why is your breathing so shallow?”

“Because it hurts to breathe,” Percy snapped, trying to twist out of Triton’s reach, but there was limited room to retreat in the narrow hospital bed, and he had to bite back a hiss at the discomfort caused by all the commotion. “Seriously, Triton, cut it out.”

“You have a fever.”

“And an annoying sea god who’s imprinted on me like a duckling,” Percy grumbled, sucking in a quick breath as Triton’s probing fingers found his swollen side.

“What’s wrong with you?” Triton kept one hand on Percy’s side, reaching out to feel his forehead with the other.

“Stop that, you already knew I had a fever. It’s just appendicitis.”

Triton paused his fussing to frown at Percy. The fluorescent hospital lights cast a bright glow around his form, highlighting the sharpness of his gaze, the crashing of the waves echoing in the depth of his eyes, and the pale otherworldly sheen of his skin that shimmered with barely concealed power. For a moment, Percy wondered how any mortal could ever look at him and see anything other than a sea god.

Then he blinked and all he saw was his annoying brother, scowling as he tsked: “You know very well I don’t know what that means, Perseus, stop being difficult. Is it a mortal sickness?”

“It’s an infection in my appendix, so yeah, a mortal sickness." 

“What is an appendix?”

“It’s an organ, we mortals need those, you know—”

“I know what an organ is,” Triton snapped. “That’s not one of the important ones, yes? Normally, you mortals have the same organs as the mammals of the sea, but that one is not familiar to me.”

“No, at least I don’t think it’s important?”

“You don’t think it’s important,” Triton repeated, the words scathing, but the hand on Percy’s forehead was gentle, pushing sweaty strands out of his eyes. “How do you not know if an organ is important. What does it do?”

“No idea.”

“Perseus,” Triton exclaimed, the words an angry hiss, and he gave Percy’s hair a sharp tug. “Why are you in the hospital if it’s not an important organ?”

“Because it can like explode or something.”

The words were intentionally flippant, intended to needle. He wasn't lashing out because he was tired and in pain, Percy rationalized to himself. Triton was just annoying.  Sure enough, Triton’s eyebrows shot up, a flash of something vulnerable crossing over his face almost too quick for Percy to see, before giving way to another scowl.

“No, it doesn't, you made that up.”

“A little, yeah. It doesn’t explode. It can burst, I think, if the infection gets bad enough.” Percy tried to remember how the doctor had phrased it before shrugging. “They have to take it out.”

“Take it out? The mortals are going to remove one of your organs?”

“Don’t be so dramatic, I told you it’s not like an important one.”

Triton gaped at him. “You are such an idiot, and this conversation is the opposite of helpful. Wait here, I need to consult an expert.”

“Where do you think I’m going to go?” Percy demanded, throwing his arms up and wincing as pain radiated across his side. “I’m having surgery in like an hour, I can’t go anywhere!”

His words echoed around an already empty room, his brother disappearing into thin air, leaving only a faint wisp of salt behind. Percy rolled his eyes at Triton’s dramatics, leaning back in his bed and closing his eyes. Well, that should buy him enough peace and quiet until the surgery, with any luck. Percy blew out a soft breath, ignoring the painful twinge it caused. Really, appendicitis wasn’t so bad compared to some of the monster-inflicted injuries he’d endured over the years. Still, lying in a hospital with the incessant beeping from the machinery and nothing to distract him from the ache in his lower abdomen was much worse than any monster encounter. At least with monsters, he wasn't bored. He had almost fallen back into a light doze when Triton suddenly reappeared, bringing with him the scent of the sea breeze and a scowl. So much for peace and quiet, then.

“I spoke with Apollo, he says when infected, the organ can become dangerous to the rest of the body and must be removed.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said.”

“You—” Triton angrily sucked air in through his teeth. “Absolute idiot, I don’t know why I even bother. I am taking you home.”

“What, no—” Percy objected, sitting up straighter as Triton reached for him. “Stop that, Triton, let go of me. Mortals do this surgery all the time, my mom will be back any minute now—Triton stop that, put me down right now!”

Triton ignored his brother’s angry objections, sliding an arm under Percy’s knees and the other under his shoulders before lifting the demigod out of the bed.

“Triton!”

“I do not trust any mortal to remove your organs,” Triton said firmly, his mouth a grim line as he adjusted his grip on Percy, the world tilting and going slightly gray. “Stop squirming. Our healers will do it.”

“What? Triton, that’s ridiculous. You didn’t even know what an appendix was until five minutes ago!”

“Apollo will assist.”

“For Poseidon’s sake,” Percy groaned as the world righted and color returned, revealing the deep-sea walls of his father’s palace. “I liked it better when you hated me.”