Chapter Text
To the dismay of Percy Jackson, God of the Tides, Estelle Blofis’ wedding is not a small affair.
Though he has been a god for a while, it’s still strange to him to split consciousness. Don’t misunderstand: he’s great at the raw power and watching over his domains side of godhood, but the little things that require concentration and finesse are usually Annabeth’s successes, not his.
Still, he does his best. Part of him is with Triton, assuring his brother that he is wearing his bridesmaid suit correctly, resisting the urge to tell him that he has to wear a dress. Part of him is pleading with Persephone to chill on the flower crowns, very much not on theme, walking a very thin line to avoid upsetting his overprotective uncle. Part of him, as always, is watching Annabeth’s back in the midst of too many gods for his liking.
Most of him, however, has escaped to a balcony overlooking the Atlantic Ocean, waves caressing the rocks in a calming effect that the sea gods are only capable of for their favorite mortal child. He’s jumped over the railing, seated himself on the small, rocky ledge beyond it, grasping the tides and releasing them subconsciously as he takes a moment for himself.
Poseidon watches all of this from the double doorway, light, sheer curtains blowing in the gentle winds, sea spray blowing up from where the ocean meets the land. He knows that Percy feels his presence, but for some reason, he makes no attempt to escape. So Poseidon, ever greedy for time with his son, disappears and reappears sitting next to him, keeping just under a foot of distance between them.
“Your sister is looking for you,” he says, which is true. They can both hear her irritation in their heads.
“I know,” Percy says, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth at the increasing creativity of Estelle’s nonverbal threats. “She’s been praying to me nonstop.”
With a wave of his hand, Poseidon quiets the prayers in his head to a dull murmur. It’s not like Estelle is sacrificing anything to him. Yet. For a faint, near-mortal moment, he worries over the safety of the wedding cake. Or more like, worries over his wife’s and Sally’s reaction should Poseidon be faulted for Estelle sacrificing the wedding cake.
Oh well. If the cake is immolated, so be it. His relationship with his son is far more important, and Poseidon senses an unfamiliar vulnerability, lacking for many years, in the way that Percy leans back against the railing.
“Tell me what troubles you,” Poseidon offers, and despite the strange countenance of his favorite child, he braces himself for another brush off. There have been hundreds over the years, to his own surprise and reluctant pride. The sea does not like to be restrained, but Poseidon is not a fan of that stubbornness and boldness being directed at himself. It is unexpected, uncharacteristic even, for Percy to hold a grudge against family for so long. Sure, after a year or so of radio silence, his son deigned to speak to him about matters of the kingdom, and he always joins their solidarity when it comes to Olympus, but otherwise? He remains cool and aloof. This behavior has caused an uprising of water-related natural disasters, but the mortals have also been better prepared. After all, Percy frequently, flippantly, sends the demigods on quests not for his own pride but to help mortals evacuate from storms and tsunamis that he knows his father causes due to the rift between them.
And Poseidon, hands tied unless he wants to make Percy even less likely to forgive him, allows it. Luckily, Percy would never go so far as to inform any other god, even Annabeth, of this push and pull. He knows his father’s lines, knows Poseidon would not stand for the blow to his pride.
When Percy opens his mouth to respond, Poseidon holds his breath. “I’ll never have this,” he says finally, solemn and quiet.
With an exhale, Poseidon carefully keeps his gaze forward, just like his son. “Hm?"
Percy points a casual thumb back into the mansion they’ve rented for the wedding. “These mortal moments,” he explains, the tide lowering with his yearning.
“Your wedding was the event of the century, Perseus,” Poseidon frowns. “Do you wish to renew your vows?”
With a hollow laugh, Percy shifts so that his legs dangle off the ledge. Poseidon has to squelch the natural, fatherly desire to remove his son from the sudden drop. Percy is a god. Such things cannot harm him. “No, no,” he swears. “I mean, ‘Stelle is going to get married, adopt some kids, grow old, and find peace in fucking Elysium if your brother knows what’s good for him because she has definitely, somehow, been accidentally sucked into enough quests to qualify.” Poseidon nods in firm agreement at the sentiment. Estelle Blofis is easily the most protected, beloved mortal in the world, and she’ll die of the same status. “And in all of that, she’ll have ups and downs, but every moment is precious because it’ll be over eventually.”
Allowing his son’s rare honest thoughts and fears to flow through him like cool, refreshing water, Poseidon nods. “The sea is current,” he observes after some thought. “It does not look to the future or the past. It focuses on the now.” It takes everything in him not to look over at his son, but he exercises restraint. Only for his beloved child does the nature of the sea change. “But Percy, I was born. And someday, when the oceans run dry and sea creatures go extinct, I will fade. As will you. Whether we live as mortals for a hundred years or immortals for thousands, everything ends.” He finally looks over, softening at the tear winding its way down Percy’s cheek. “Though some decades pass in moments, I still slow down for what is important,” he adds gently. “I have lived for millenia, and even still, sitting here with you, my son, is precious.”
Percy exhales noisily, wiping his face with the back of his hand. “Even though I’ve been mad at you for thirty years?” He asks, a teasing note to his voice of which Poseidon aches to hear more.
Regardless, he frowns at the reminder of the time they have lost, but he stands firm. “Even still,” he agrees before he sighs, about to reach over and ruffle Percy’s hair before he stops himself with a grumble. “I know that immortality was not your wish. Is there truly no hope for your happiness, Son?”
Percy looks away, something strange in his expression. Then, he catches Poseidon’s gaze and immediately caves. “Annabeth is pregnant,” he admits.
“Ah,” is Poseidon’s only response.
“I would do anything for him. Or her. Already,” Percy says.
“I know you would,” he replies, barely suppressing his smile. So this is what it takes for things to mend. He only wishes it had happened sooner. “I trust you know that the Sea is behind you,” he assures.
Percy glares at him. “You’re smug,” he points out.
Poseidon just shrugs, unwilling to deny it. Percy’s lucky he hasn’t broken out the ‘I told you so’.
“They’ll be born…” Percy trails off.
“A god,” he confirms. “They will not know mortality.”
“That’s so weird.”
“It’s fortunate,” Poseidon offers, because he can’t help himself.
Percy’s knuckles go white. “I still couldn’t do what you-” he interrupts himself, looking away. Poseidon opens his mouth to respond, but Percy has already moved on. “Why the tides?” He asks abruptly. When Poseidon looks askance at the change of subject, he clarifies. “Why did you give me the tides?”
With a raised eyebrow, Poseidon graciously allows the shift, humming in thought. The things a father will do for his child. “I once offered to stop the tides for your mother,” he replies. “There are times… people I have loved, and I cannot remember their faces. Their deeds. Their words.”
Percy balks at the assumed implication. “I will never forget Sally Jackson,” Percy says fiercely.
Poseidon chuckles. “I know. And neither will I. But I want to remember that offer every time I see you in your domain.”
Looking up at his father, Percy narrows his eyes. “Why?”
“I do not know if she understood,” Poseidon says, a faint sadness visible in his tanned and lined face as he briefly loses himself to memory, “but my promise was one of immortality. If she had accepted, you would have been born the same.”
The laugh that forces its way out of Percy’s lungs is one not of mirth, but of shock. “Yeah, she definitely didn’t get that.”
“I’m not so sure,” Poseidon muses. “Your mother is very astute. But regardless, Percy, your domain is a reminder to me that your mother had the power of very few: to say no to a god.”
Percy scoffs. “I wish I had inherited that power.”
“You did,” Poseidon says immediately. “You denied the Olympian council twice, and you have changed for the better our relationships with our children. Because you are immortal, you have the power to continue your crusade forever.”
“You didn’t let me say no to you,” Percy accuses, but it holds none of the raging anger that Poseidon remembers. Instead, his son sounds… lost. More hurt. Disappointed.
Poseidon ignores the small part of him that feels hollow, feels guilt. It’s unbecoming. “You were given a choice, Perseus,” he rumbles instead. “An unfair one, perhaps, but life is full of such choices. And you chose. No one, not Annabeth, not your mother, not I, can take that away from you.” He pauses. “I do not pretend to be blameless. I can be cruel, unforgiving, and merciless. I am old, my son, and I know my nature. But I love you.”
“Dad…” Percy says quietly, and the long unsaid epithet melts Poseidon’s heart.
It also brings the rain.
Poseidon does not stop the tears falling from his own eyes, nor the eyes of his son, though it would be the work of a single moment. Neither of them like controlling their emotions, and they both feel them with equal weight. Happiness, anger, relief. The Sea takes them all into itself and pours them back out in equal measure, as the rain turns into a torrent, raindrops hitting the ocean with audible splashes.
For a long moment, father and son merely sit there, together, on the ledge in a tiny town in Rhode Island. Percy sends a smirk at his father as he releases a little bit of his power, allowing himself to get wet, rainwater soaking his suit and flattening his curls only because he so wishes. With a heartfelt smile, Poseidon joins him, enjoying the chilling sensation of the sudden downpour.
Suddenly, the muted prayers turn into words shouted aloud as one of the many gods attending the ceremony finally takes pity on the bride and tells her the location of her brother and sort-of step-father. “Percy!” Estelle shrieks, running outside, soaking her own dress without a thought. Percy rolls his eyes; his sister is so spoiled for power that she knows that such a problem will be fixed by someone trying to earn his family’s favor. “Is this you?! I swear to the gods, if you ruin my wedding with your water powers I’ll let Uncle Nico be my maid of honor!”
Percy grins, looking back at his sister. “It’s Poseidon!” Percy hollers back, pointing to his father. “These events always get him choked up; he can’t help that he’s a man with emotions!”
“Poseidon?!”
It feels surprisingly good to be ribbed by his playful son after years of solemnity, so Poseidon takes the hit with maturity. With a tilt of his head, the rain putters to a stop. In an instant, all three of them are dry, and Estelle is running back into the building, shouting for Apollo. In seconds, the sun is back, high in the sky in fear.
Percy stands, holding a hand out to his father, who clasps it and allows himself to be drawn to his feet. The action is wholly unnecessary between gods, but they do it anyway, out of a remnant of Percy’s humanity. For a moment, they stand there, hands clasped. Poseidon reaches forward, grasping the back of his boy’s neck with a strong, weathered hand, rubbing a thumb along his jaw. What passes between them then is not for mortals. It is something softer than understanding, harder than forgiveness. Green meets green, as it will for centuries, for millennia, until the tide rolls back and the sea is merely sand.
And then, with crinkled eyes and smiles pulling at the corners of two mouths, the two gods pass through the solid railing and enter the church.
-
Poseidon finds Annabeth before the ceremony, as all of the bridesmaids begin to take their places. He lays two heavy, warm hands on her shoulders, and Annabeth feels the invisible, quiet pressure of a third hand on her flat stomach. Luckily, Poseidon having many hands is not the weirdest thing she’s seen from the Sea God, so she just looks up at him, knowing that denying the gentle, fatherly touch would probably set off a year of moping. So she bears it, not that she minds too much anyways. Percy must’ve told him, and it’s a good sign that her father-in-law seems invested in his future grandchild. Not to mention, in lieu of her own parents celebrating her happiness, Poseidon is a good stand in.
Still, the uncommon air of contentment surrounding him is more than a sign of joy at the baby Percy and she have conceived. Annabeth has kept an eye on the balcony where Estelle had sent Poseidon after her brother, and she’s pretty sure every sea entity and creature felt the lightening of their Lord’s mood right before Estelle had rolled her eyes and gone to check on them. “You spoke to Percy,” she observes, words soft and specifically targeted to have no inflection at all. She watches out of the corner of her eye as Sally moves into the aisle, a little too casual, to block them somewhat from view.
“I did,” he confirms, stooping over slightly to meet her eyes. “Congratulations, my dear.”
Annabeth smiles. “Thank you,” she says, before she looks up at him with more determination. “Lord Poseidon?” The god hums, eyes flicking down to her stomach and then back up to meet her gaze. “Percy and I could’ve lived a happy mortal life,” she tells him, invoking the disarming sounds of the deep, and for a moment, everything in the god stills as he listens to her words. “Make no mistake. However, though I say nothing on Percy’s behalf, on my own… thank you. For this one.”
Any air of foreboding disappears as Poseidon’s smile crinkles the corners of his eyes. On another plane of existence, Annabeth swims out of the protection of her own domain, meeting him in the waters where there is light. “Annabeth,” he says, “there is no need for formalities. You can call me ‘Father,’ should you wish.”
And then, in a movement completely unanticipated by Annabeth, and also completely welcome for a young goddess starved of parental affection, Poseidon tugs her to him by the shoulders and embraces her tightly, enveloping her in the familiar scent of the sea. She still feels the same warmth around her stomach and wonders if it is not a hand, as she first assumed, but an early blessing.
It’s not that Poseidon and she haven’t gotten close throughout the years already, but it seems the idea of a new godling under the sea is enough for Poseidon to lose any coldness he had remaining towards her. Annabeth, both emotionally and shrewdly, as some part of her will always be her mother’s, is relieved by her father-in-law’s acceptance. Her eyes flick to Percy, who looks at her worriedly from the altar where he is speaking with one of Estelle’s college friends who looks up at him with starry eyes that he is blatantly ignoring. She flashes him a true smile, and with a wink, he goes back to his conversation without fear. Still, she knows there is a part of him that is probably listening in. She doesn’t mind.
“We will keep this quiet for now,” Poseidon rumbles in her ear. “I am certain my son agrees.”
Annabeth nods. “We were planning on announcing at the Fall Equinox celebration in Atlantis.”
The Equinox is a large enough event to be worthy of such a public announcement, but it takes place in Poseidon’s domain, unlike the Solstices. She knows the same thoughts are running through Poseidon’s mind as he nods. “Very well. And to family?”
“Sally and Paul know,” she says, a little quietly.
Poseidon laughs. “Peace, daughter. I am not offended. I am the third?” Annabeth nods against his shoulder, and Poseidon pulls away. “That is fine. We will inform the others in time. There are precautions we can take.” He presses a kiss to Annabeth’s brow. “This is truly wonderful news.”
“Thank you, Father,” she tries, blushing a little, and Poseidon smirks at her. She thinks it’s mostly genuine, but also with a bit of smug glee because Athena can definitely spot them from her seat a few rows back.
Then he leaves to stand with his son at the altar. Percy is Estelle’s best man, and Poseidon has been invited as part of the party as well. Estelle is fond of him.
Sally draws Annabeth to her. “That went well,” she whispers.
“He’s concerned,” Annabeth responds. “He’s right to be.” She’s very aware of the faint lines of tension between Olympus and Atlantis since Poseidon made two new gods, one out of an extremely powerful demigod, without the advice of the council. Though Annabeth herself is now powerful enough to take enough care of herself to escape with her life against any god except perhaps the Big Three, her future child will not be. Such a weakness calls for the full council of Percy’s family convening to make a plan in case of foul play.
In a clear attempt to banish her worries, Sally presses a kiss to Annabeth’s temple. “Any desire to tell your mother?”
“None,” Annabeth responds easily. “You and Amphitrite are plenty mother for me.”
Sally smiles sadly. “You know I’m always here for you,” she promises. They watch as Poseidon leans over to hear a whisper from Percy, a perfectly content look at his face. “That’s new,” she observes.
“The situation has changed for Percy,” Annabeth agrees. “He hasn’t been as angry for a while now. Not everything is forgiven, but after all this time, and with… recent developments, he’s gained a new perspective.” She sighs. “Still, I fear my father in law’s disappointment,” she adds, almost inaudibly.
Sally nods in agreement. They both know that if Poseidon is hoping to return to a world where Percy is innocent to his father’s darker side, where trust is easier to come by, it will not end well.
Just then, Annabeth feels the whisper of spun silk on her bare arms as Ariadne slips into the seat next to her. She can feel Dionysus’ displeasure from his place in the last pew; weddings are no fun for the sober, after all. “Hi Beth,” she greets, eyes bright with excitement. “Estelle looks ready, and my husband was being annoying, so I’ve made my escape.”
Annabeth smiles at her friend. Ariadne has been a close companion, the best godly friend she has who bears no relation to the sea, much to Percy and Dionysus’ annoyance. There have been no successful double dates amongst them, but Annabeth is close to wrangling Percy into another attempt. “As long as I don’t go mad from his annoyance, you’re welcome here.”
At her words, Annabeth clocks no less than six pairs of eyes glare at Dionysus from around the room. She giggles as the god waves them off and fills his wine glass with diet coke. She suspects he will be a lot more palatable in about twenty years.
When the music starts, the whole room stands. Estelle is surely beautiful in a white gown chosen with Aphrodite’s advice as she walks down the aisle to her fiancée, who is smiling through glassy, red eyes, ruining her makeup without a care. However, Annabeth’s gaze is focused on her husband and father-in-law, standing just to the side. Percy is smiling at the proceedings, occasionally grinning over at Annabeth, and Poseidon is watching his son and the ceremony fondly.
But there is more to be seen than that which is visible through mortal eyes. Across the world, felt only by gods, the God of Fault Lines pushes two tectonic plates hard against each other, his father shaking the earth to help them along. Just barely stepping onto the scene, Hephaestus joins them, pushing at the apex of the joined plates with his fingers to shape the new mountain into a volcano. Then, his involvement falls away, and it is a mesmerizing performance between Poseidon and Percy only as the earth grows ever upward and the sea parts to allow it. When the island breaks free of the water, Demeter and Persephone walk along the barren surface, flowers and wheat sprouting in their wake, while Apollo and Artemis push and pull to create an environment for growth. With an encouraging nudge from his wife, Dionysus digs his hands into the earth and pulls, wild grapes forming at his fingertips. Hestia’s blessing falls on the island shortly after, and creatures flock to the new land, grateful for a new home. Annabeth idly makes a note of every Olympian to involve themselves in this peace offering between father and son. Allies, if the future ever grows violent.
But for now, her focus remains on the beauty of creation from gods so known for and entrenched in destruction, tears in her eyes, a hand creeping to cover her stomach in reassurance. It’s a love letter, a hatchet buried, a new beginning, a gift for a woman married and a child barely formed.
In the church, as the congregation stands with the announcement of the newlyweds, Annabeth joins them with a bright smile, the weight of Percy’s difficult relationship with his father briefly lifting off her shoulders. In moments, she is in her husband’s arms after he follows Estelle off the dais, pulling her up and away from her seat. He spins her around with ease, tugging her with him to follow the procession. When she glances back, Sally, Poseidon, Paul, and Amphitrite are behind her, already deep in low and serious conversation.
Annabeth dismisses them for now. She might have an eternity, but she also has this one day. And today is a day of creation and love and forgiveness. She squeals as Percy dips her into a kiss, an unfamiliar weight to the movement given that they are usually in deep ocean.
“Are you happy?” He asks her, green eyes glowing with the leftover power of his recent deed.
Annabeth nods, though she’s sure he can also see it in her teary eyes. “And you?” She asks, deliberately flicking her eyes to his father.
Percy grins at her. “Never better,” he assures her. Then, with a wink and a kiss on her cheek, he darts away, claiming Estelle in a bear hug that his sister, despite her usual prickly nature, returns easily.
Without another thought, Annabeth follows her husband, joining him in joy, as she plans to for many centuries to come.