Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When Percy denies himself godhood, Poseidon is not happy. 

His son is a hero the likes of which has never been seen. He is brave and strong and good, and moreover, he is Poseidon’s favorite son. And Poseidon is God of the Seas, Earthshaker, one of the most powerful beings in existence. 

Which is all to say: it is seldom that he does not get what he wants. 

This time, he swears, watching his boy force the gods themselves into an oath with the tumultuous sea in his eyes, Poseidon’s own eyes, is no exception. 

-

Of course, Poseidon could just force Percy to ascend. It wouldn’t take much effort; Percy is the most powerful half-blood in many generations, but he is no match for his father’s will.. Poseidon cannot even rule out the possibility that he would, given a certain level of desperation. But he does not want to go against his son’s will. He wants him to choose to be at Poseidon’s side for all the ages. 

The easiest path, he concedes, would be love. Many mortals have been turned for their immortal lovers, and not even Zeus could protest such an event. Of course, no individual, mortal or immortal, is good enough for Percy. Still, after Percy turns down godhood the first time, Poseidon sends the most beautiful citizens of his kingdom to Camp Half-Blood and along with Percy’s quests to seduce his son. Most of his son’s companions write them off as the signs of a father who wants to help with his hands tied, which is an added bonus. But all of them report back, unsuccessful, grumbling about the dark gaze of one who is always at Percy’s side. 

The daughter of Athena. Poseidon has no easy answer for her. He suspects she is onto him the way she chases his Nereids off, the way she clings to Percy when they are on the sea. He wonders, sometimes, if she needs to die before Percy would consider ascending. The downside: if she dies, Percy might only desire to find her in Elysium. He cannot deny she is also a hero of some caliber. Elysium is the only option for the both of them. 

His attitude shifts entirely, causing many riptides down the East Coast and up the Gulf of Mexico, one bizarre day, when the scent of the best cut of meat hits his nose, and a voice he has never before heard in his prayers speaks softly in his head. 

Lord Poseidon, she begins, hesitant. This is my first prayer to you. Maybe it’s long overdue. He can hear her sigh, and waves break hard on Maui with his discontent. Look, I know you want Percy to be a God. And I know you’re going to keep trying to make him one… but when you give up on sending him women to fall in love with, please keep sending your people anyway. There’s a pause, and Poseidon stills the aforementioned waves in surprise. He’s so happy when he… when you make it clear that you care. So even if I have to warn off a thousand Nereids, I would do it to see the smile on his face. 

There is a longer pause, where Poseidon and Annabeth Chase sit on either side of a one way connection in silence. He thinks she’s done. 

Lord Poseidon? I know you would be there for him if you could. I will continue to protect him when you cannot. Okay, that’s it. Thank you. 

The connection closes, and Poseidon sits back in his throne, contemplative. 

On a beach in Maui, surfers bemoan the sudden tranquility of the sea. 

-

Annabeth Chase continues praying to him, awkwardly at first, but soon enough, she grows comfortable enough to tap into his thoughts with nearly the ease of his son, whose prayers verge on sacrilegious but are infinitely precious. He cannot say the same about his son’s girlfriend, but at least she keeps things interesting. That is to say, at least he has something else to tune into besides Zeus’ infinite droning when he is called to Olympus. 

Lord Poseidon, Percy is not sleeping well, and I’m worried. 

Lord Poseidon, what do you make buildings out of in Atlantis? Percy says it looks like limestone, but limestone is way too brittle because it’s composed mostly of calcium carbonate. Wouldn’t it be easily dissolved underwater, especially if it needs to withstand such pressure? Anyways- 

Lord Poseidon, I know I said that you could send as many Nereids as you wanted, but do you have to send Erato? If I catch her trying to trap Percy in marriage one more time, I’m going to kill her. Sorry in advance.

Lord Poseidon, I think I pray to you more than my mother. Pause. Please don’t tell her that. 

Poseidon rolls his eyes at some prayers, checks on his son at others, and raises his eyebrow at Annabeth’s annoyance with his wife’s younger sister, banishing Erato from appearing in the above world without a thought. 

At the last, he feels smug, but also undeniably curious. He has long thought that the girl’s loyalty to Athena, who cares not for her mortal child the way he would rip the world to pieces at the loss of Percy, is her true fatal flaw. 

This curiosity pushes him to actions that he cannot quite explain. During a short quest less than three months after Kronos is defeated, Annabeth falls into the ocean. Poseidon’s realm cradles her gently until Percy pulls her to the surface, creating a gentle circle of ocean in the middle of a storm. Percy carelessly shouts out his thanks as he pulls Annabeth back into the boat, and Poseidon smiles. There is a child who is grateful to his godly parent, if just a little crass. It is entertaining more than offensive coming from his favorite child. 

Thank you, Lord Poseidon, he hears quietly after Annabeth has woken. I know you did it for Percy, but still. Um. I’m glad to be alive. 

Poseidon hums in thought, enjoying once again the thought of being better than Athena. And maybe the smallest part of him warms the Indian Ocean at the thought of his son’s protective, pious girlfriend, who stands at his back and protects him from everything that comes at him. 

-

When Percy and Annabeth fall into Tartarus, Poseidon nearly kidnaps Sally and her family to Atlantis and brings about the new apocalypse on land. The world should feel his wrath, should fall into his waters the way that his son has fallen into the Pit. Only the faint knowledge that his son is alive and deserves a world to come back to keeps him to petty earthquakes and tidal waves.  

The fact that he is faintly disquieted for Annabeth's wellbeing along with the breadth and depth of his anxiety for Percy gets pushed to the wayside. To save Percy will be to save Annabeth. He needn’t be concerned that one will live without the other. They are a package, a pair, a gordian knot. 

This realization is pushed to the wayside as he awaits the survival of his favorite son. After all, if his son is away any longer, an inevitable war between Olympus and Atlantis will occupy his attention. If his child cannot manage to save himself, he will not stand aside, regardless of Zeus’ whining. 

-

After Tartarus, after Gaia, Annabeth finds herself sitting by the water more and more. The sea is soothing and smells like Percy; moreover, it fills her nostrils and lungs with a strong scent that isn’t the Pit. And anything that isn’t Tartarus-like is what Annabeth wants, especially when her boyfriend is away to his mother’s or his father’s, both of whom have undertaken his care in the aftermath of what the two demigods had to do to survive down there. 

Annabeth, unlike Percy, is okay. She’s fine. She’s rationalized everything, thought it through, and mostly moved past it. Percy is more volatile, more emotional, more destructive, and it makes sense that everyone is focused on his healing. He’s the son of Poseidon and the Hero of Olympus, after all. 

Percy, unlike everyone else and like the good boyfriend he is, is aware of and holds her through her nightmares. But he can only do that when he is here, and his father has not allowed him to say no to Atlantis at least one week out of the month. And Annabeth knows he loves it there, that he can actually rest in the seat of his father’s power, where no one asks anything of him or can kidnap him or demand he goes on a quest. And she’s happy for him, really. 

She just wishes she could be with him. 

Annabeth bows her head, running her thumb over a broken shell that had washed up a few minutes ago, when the scent of the sea suddenly becomes overpowering. Then, a deep baritone: “Why have you come here?”

Annabeth’s head jerks up at the sudden question, eyes widening at the sight of a familiar god in the most heinously patterned, sickly bright green fishing shirt. He appears at her side without sound from one moment to the next, the way they all do, and it nearly gives Annabeth a heart attack. 

“Lord Poseidon,” she greets shakily, scrambling to get to her feet.

He holds up his right hand, shoving his fishing pole - trident - into the sand with the other. “No, stay.” Then, with an odd look at her, he sinks to sit at her side. He’s close enough that she can feel the unnaturally powerful heat emanating from his body. She doesn’t think she's ever been this close to her own mother. Unbalanced, she sits still, frozen in place, unsure what to do or say. It’s fine when Percy is here and his dad shows up; Poseidon always appears more human in the company of his son. To her, he makes no effort to be any less than he is. 

Clearing her throat, doing her best not to shy away from his presence, she tries to uncover his reasons. It’s almost worse just to sit in silence with him. “Did you - do you need anything? I thought Percy was with you, but if he’s not, I can call him-”

“No,” Poseidon interrupts, before he turns his full, godly gaze on Annabeth. “You fell with my son into Tartarus,” he says, a shocking segue. An observation? A reminder? 

No, it must be a threat. He’s found out that Percy only fell into the Pit because he was following her, and now he’s here to kill her for risking his son’s fragile, mortal life. 

“So you’re here to kill me?” She asks, fighting the urge to clap her hands to her mouth. She’s disquieted by her own audacity. Percy’s lack of godly respect must be rubbing off on her. Not that she has the same all encompassing respect she once had for the gods anymore, but she’s usually smart enough to keep that part of her hidden. Not everyone has a powerful father that will go to war for his right to mouth off at the gods the way Percy does. 

Poseidon looks confused and a little shocked as well. “I would not do that to Perseus,” he says simply, graciously not commenting on her bluntness. 

Annabeth nods, her shoulders dropping just a little. “So you’re here to… ask about it?” She guesses. That makes sense. Percy is being less than forthcoming about his pain, so Poseidon has come to Annabeth. “I won’t tell you what Percy went through, my lord. If you want to know, you’ll have to talk to him.”

A large wave crashes over the rocks to their left with a loud, echoing roar. “Child, would you stop assuming you know my purpose?” Poseidon snaps, obviously exasperated. 

Annabeth flinches. “Sorry, sir.” 

Watching her again, Poseidon frowns but otherwise does not acknowledge her apology. “Perseus has spoken to me about the Pit,” he reveals instead. “He has spent time with his mother and his family in Atlantis. With our help, he heals from his trials.” 

Annabeth stays silent, having now learned better than guessing where the hell this is going, but she agrees. Percy is doing better. 

He tilts his head, adopting an expression that she doesn’t think she’s ever seen an adult direct at her. She has no name for it. “And you, girl?” He prompts, green eyes, Percy’s eyes, boring into her. 

Annabeth just stares at him, still unsure what he is asking. “And me… what?”

Poseidon looks at her like, if he were any less godly and eternal, he would roll his eyes. “Do you heal?” He asks finally, like the question had been obvious the entire time. 

Annabeth is shocked, looking away with a jerky motion, feeling emotion roar in her at the mere question. Earlier, she had tried to convince herself that she was fine. That she’s not like Percy. With Poseidon’s question, concern that edges just over the side of polite inquiry, she feels something in her loosening. And not in a good way. 

“I - my lord,” she stumbles over her words, unsure what to do with this god, this individual who is so distantly connected to her, being the only adult figure in her life to ask her how she is doing. What is she supposed to say? Does he truly want to know? Is he asking for Percy? “Percy,” she adds, mirroring her thoughts, “He’s - I mean-” 

Poseidon frowns, and the sky darkens. “Do not lie to me, child,” he orders, and his words have an actual physical weight that Annabeth feels pushing down on her shoulders. 

She slumps, can’t do anything but comply. It’s not fair. “I have… nightmares.” 

Poseidon nods, and the skies clear. “Perseus has them as well.” He looks uncomfortable. Well, as uncomfortable as a god can look. “I do not like mortal children except my own,” he says finally, and Annabeth nods. That makes sense; it’s rare enough for gods to like mortal children at all, let alone a random kid that they didn’t have a hand in creating. “I understand that half-bloods have difficult and short lives, but I cannot concern myself with such tribulations.” He stops, and turns more to Annabeth, who in turn, forces herself to look back up at him. She feels a tear run down her cheek and curses herself, but Poseidon does not comment on it. “But you, child, fell into Tartarus,” he says instead. “I have seen the Pit. It is a godless place. A cursed place. None but us, my brothers, Perseus, and the Hades boy have survived it. You kept my favorite son alive and sane as well, as he has testified to me many times in his visits. If there is something I can provide you, even if it is merely someone who will listen, I will provide it.” 

Annabeth tries her best not to gape at Poseidon, God of the Seas, one of the Big Three, offering her, a child of Athena, anything. But her mind works quickly, even under such stress. Percy, she thinks. “You’re doing this for Percy?” She says aloud, looking up at him. Please say yes. Make this make sense. 

Poseidon studies her for a moment, then nods. “That is the only reason I can give,” he offers, and Annabeth visibly relaxes, back in a world that makes sense. 

“To answer your question,” she begins, still a little uncertain, but unwilling to turn down what is clearly a generous offer and upset Poseidon in doing so, “from before: I come here because the sea gives Percy comfort. I hoped, maybe,” She trails off, trying to find the words to describe an indescribable experience. “Tartarus,” she says, abruptly changing direction, thinking back to her ruminations on the fragrance of the sea. “Do you… do you remember how it smelled?” She whispers.

Poseidon nods gravely. “I do.” 

Annabeth thinks about saying more, which is surely what Poseidon is taking time out of his busy schedule for, but she can’t find any other words. In fact, for the remainder of the time he spends with her, neither of them say anything else. They simply sit with their feet in the surf and listen to the waves as Poseidon rolls them across the sand gently, slowly, with the rare intent of the sea to soothe.

-

In the following few months, Poseidon does not visit her again, but he sends others. Rhodes, Percy’s sister, who takes both Percy and her to her island: a peaceful, beautiful place. Benthesikyme, also Percy’s sister, takes her surfing for the first time and is generally very motherly, listening to Annabeth’s problems with a neutral expression and offering advice. Annabeth’s favorite is Sao, one of Amphitrite’s eldest sisters, who calls herself Percy’s aunt and spends much of her time in Atlantis’ libraries, which she’s happy to tell Annabeth all about. Slowly, though her prayers to Poseidon continue, and of course she gives homage to her mother at least once a week, her offerings begin to trickle down to other sea deities who spend time with Percy and her without qualms or a superiority complex, who help her with her college applications, who listen when she feels like she can talk about the trauma of Tartarus. 

She’s on the beach at Camp, listening to the waves, awaiting Percy who is coming back from Atlantis today, when a rush of power fills the air behind her. Annabeth scrambles to her feet, withdraws her dagger, and spins, taking a few steps backward so she is ankle-deep in the sea. The last action is a surprise even to herself, but she does not question her own instincts. They’ve saved her life already many times over.

She narrows her eyes at the bright being that appears on the beach, but stops and puts her dagger away immediately when she recognizes the figure. 

“Mother!” She exclaims, bowing her head. “I apologize; I was not expecting you.”

Athena’s gaze darts to where Annabeth’s shoes are wet in the ocean, and then back up. Her expression is inscrutable. “You were not meant to expect me.” 

Annabeth nods aimlessly, but she can’t help but feel hurt. Surely her mother came to ask her about the Pit? To ask her about her life? College applications? The coldness exuding from the goddess is surprising, but not unusual. Annabeth supposed she shouldn’t have been hopeful for something more.  

Instead, Athena sniffs, making no motion to come anywhere near Annabeth. “You do not pray to me enough,” she observes coldly, and Annabeth flinches at the anger in her mother’s tone. “And now I find you here, standing in the sea of all places, the domain of my enemy.”

Annabeth feels embarrassed, taking a few steps forward to appease her mother, though the tide pulls against her ankles as if trying to keep her in place. She ignores both it and her instincts as she puts a few feet between her and the water. “Lord Poseidon would not hurt me, mother,” Annabeth defends. “He’s Percy’s dad.” 

Athena glares at her. “The sea spawn is an unwise choice for a daughter of Athena. He is reckless, impertinent, and dangerous. You fell into Tartarus due to his actions-”

“- He jumped in after me!” Annabeth interrupts, ignoring her own survival instincts. But she’s not going to stand for her mother shaming Percy. Not after everything. She has been a loyal child for so long, but Percy has done too much for Olympus for Annabeth to sit by as he’s being slighted. “It’s because of him I’m alive.” 

The sea breeze blowing around them comes to an abrupt halt. Athena’s lips pinch together as she looks down at Annabeth. “Do not interrupt me,” she warns.

“You - you haven’t even asked about it,” Annabeth says, growing upset. Gods, maybe Percy is rubbing off on her a little too much, she thinks, as a small part of her eyes Athena’s increasing rage with trepidation. “Do you even care how bad it was?” She asks, more heartbroken now than angry. She’s not sure Athena even cares about the difference. “Are we all just meant to die for your pride?” 

Athena’s eyes flash and glow, and she raises her hands. Annabeth closes her eyes. Shit. She’s getting smited. After all this. Wait, smote? Is it smited or smote, her brain demands. Gods, she’s going to die debating grammar with herself. 

Then, right in the middle of Annabeth’s inner turmoil, everything in the air sizzles to a stop. There is a faint sea breeze, and then a familiar presence at her side. Double shit. 

“It would be unwise of you to hurt her.” 

She opens her eyes to her boyfriend’s dad standing behind her, his eyes intent on her mother, who looks like she’s about to blow her top. Annabeth doesn’t breathe, doesn’t look away from Athena, but she takes several quick steps back to stand at Poseidon’s side. It’s not conscious; it’s a move based purely on self-preservation. Still, Annabeth is aware that every step she takes into the sea increases her mother’s ire and decreases the likelihood that Annabeth will ever be forgiven. Still, she can’t stop herself. 

Her eyes briefly dart to camp, eyes catching on the solemn gaze of Chiron who has obviously sensed the power on the beach and has come to investigate. She shakes her head, just barely, and Chiron nods, retreating. Hopefully, he’s keeping everyone away. Annabeth would never forgive herself if campers are hurt in this standoff which is so clearly about her. 

“Do not interfere in my affairs, Poseidon,” Athena snaps, gaze moving to Poseidon as if Annabeth has ceased to exist. Annabeth finally takes a shallow breath. 

Poseidon does not hold his usual fishing pole in his hand, but his trident, which glows a yellow-green color. “The girl stands in my oceans,” Poseidon intones in his familiar deep baritone. Annabeth keeps her eyes on her mother, but she can feel Poseidon’s presence beside her like a live wire.

Athena narrows her eyes at the Sea God. “She is my daughter.” 

Poseidon forcefully brings his trident down in the water, and the ocean soaks Annabeth up to her waist. Still, she is not frightened; no, she thinks absently that she is in shock. “But she prays to me ,” Poseidon says smugly, and Annabeth curses under her breath. It was probably too much to hope that he wouldn’t drop that detail, given how much he dislikes her mother. 

Athena looks truly surprised for a split second, then glows catastrophically angry. She turns to Annabeth, who fights the urge to close her eyes against her mother’s power. “You pray to another god? To Poseidon? That is why you barely pray to me, your own mother?”

“I-” Annabeth stammers, finally averting her eyes. She doesn’t want to be disintegrated for her own pride. 

“No,” Athena interrupts as Annabeth fixes her gaze on where Poseidon’s trident disappears into the surf. A symbol of the power that just protected her from her own mother. “If you would like to rely on Poseidon for aid, be welcome to. He does not care for any child but his own. But hear you me, Annabeth Chase: do not expect any more assistance from me.” And with that, she disappears into the wind, and like a marionette with cut strings, Annabeth drops to her knees in the ocean. 

For a short moment that feels like it lasts forever, Annabeth stares blankly into the surf with Poseidon still standing at her side, saying nothing. When Annabeth finally closes her eyes, feeling tears well up along with a lump in her throat, she thinks, for a second, she feels a soft, warm touch to her head. 

But when she looks up, Poseidon is gone. Just when Annabeth fully begins to freak out, she hears a familiar voice from deeper in the waves.

“Dad,” Percy is calling, “where are we- Annabeth?” 

She looks up to see her boyfriend, alone, waist deep in the water. 

“Are you hurt?” He demands, wading closer. “What happened?”

She shakes her head, standing and taking two lunging steps to throw herself into his arms. Then, as Percy holds her close, she begins to cry in earnest. She’s only eighteen years old, and her mother doesn’t want her anymore. Her mother doesn’t care. Maybe she never truly did. 

Percy doesn’t ask questions, even though she can feel his rage welling up at the idea that someone made her cry like this. They stay there in the sea for a long time, just the two of them, but Annabeth doesn’t feel like they are alone. The surf laps against their knees and elbows as she clings to Percy.

Elsewhere, Poseidon watches these events with his chin in his hand. A possible future that he has been considering for quite a while solidifies, and while a small part of him easily rages with his son at the actions of Athena, supporting Percy’s power over his own domain, a larger part of him is perfectly content.

Today, when Poseidon smiles, it is not the fatherly smile received by his children, nor the amorous smile received by his lovers. No, today Poseidon grins with his teeth, with the smile of a god who has all he wants almost in his grasp. 

Chapter Text

Weapons crash and clang with a strange echo underwater. Though Poseidon has been familiar with the discordant sound for millenia, he watches carefully from his place in the underwater arena as Percy flinches every time Riptide clashes with Triton’s trident. Sighing, he waves his hand, creating a sharp cut through the water to call a halt to the fighting. 

After reluctantly bowing to each other, as is custom, Triton and Percy both swim up to their father’s box, glaring at the other. 

“That was a dishonorable move,” Triton is in the middle of complaining, “not one becoming of a Prince of the Sea.” 

“I thought I was a bastard,” Percy shoots back, flipping his curls back in a slow, watery movement. “Bastards fight dirty.” 

“Hush,” Poseidon warns, and both boys go silent, looking over at him. Triton stands at attention, trident anchored in the sand. Percy’s stance is lazier, mock-casual, because Poseidon can tell his gaze is sharp and ready for any threat. Both of his sons are battle tested, but Perseus’ skill is born of brutal combat, where anything goes because honor might cost one’s life. It’s something Triton could learn from his younger brother, and Poseidon will pull no punches when he tells his heir so later. For now, his attention is on his favorite son. “Tomorrow, you learn to wield the trident,” he says to Percy, who groans. 

Triton grins. “Tomorrow will be a good day,” he adds, shutting up immediately at Poseidon’s glare. 

Percy, however, keeps complaining. “I’m supposed to be at camp tomorrow! I have a class to lead.” 

Poseidon waves a hand. “I spoke to your intended. She has modified your schedule.” 

Percy grumbles. He does not question how Poseidon refers to Annabeth; any prior amount of telling his father they are not engaged has been merely met with a raised eyebrow. Plus, Percy is reluctant to push back too much, knowing Poseidon’s words mean at least some approval of his relationship. He’s definitely not telling his girlfriend that they’re kind of engaged in Atlantis though. That’s a problem for later. Maybe never. “This is starting to feel like a really weird custody arrangement,” he accuses. 

With a knowing glance, Poseidon dismisses Triton and gestures for Percy to follow him. “Something is on your mind, my son. Tell me.” 

Percy doesn’t hesitate to disclose his thoughts, something for which his father is grateful. They’ve come a long way as father and son, and such honesty is evidence of their work. “Why did you help Annabeth?” He blurts out, swimming at Poseidon’s side. Poseidon distantly wonders what the boy would look like with a tail. Surely a form he would get used to as an immortal. Legs are so inconvenient in the sea. “I’m glad, Dad, don’t get me wrong, but I’m just surprised, I guess.” 

Poseidon smiles as the merpeople that work in his palace bow as they walk by, quietly greeting both their king and their prince. “She is precious to you,” he replies, “so she is worth saving to me.” 

Percy shrugs, capping Riptide sheepishly when the sword nearly knocks over a vase. “I just thought you didn’t like her,” he says as they enter the throne room. “That you were sending all those girls to get me to date an immortal.” Poseidon can’t hide his surprise as he seats himself on his throne, and Percy laughs. “I’m not an idiot, Dad. C’mon.” 

Poseidon makes a chair for Percy that the boy throws himself into, limbs sprawled everywhere. Teenagers. “I have… changed my perspective,” he says, choosing each word carefully. “It is clear to me that she is loyal to you.”

Percy nods, impressed. “Mom bug you about it?”

Poseidon laughs, warm and unreserved, unwilling to let on about his true reasons. “Your mother is always right, Percy.”

Percy grins. “What about Amphitrite?” 

Poseidon frowns down at him, leaning forward. “My wife is also always right.” 

“What if they disagree?” Percy says smugly, pointing a finger at his father, as if to say ‘Ha! Trapped you!’ 

This is a trap that Poseidon is too old and wise to fall into. “Then they are both right… depending on their proximity to me.”

Percy laughs then, bright and clear, and Poseidon’s heart fills with love and affection. He reaches over and ruffles Percy’s hair. “Annabeth is wrong sometimes,” Percy says, allowing his father to cup his chin.

“My son,” Poseidon says, running an affectionate thumb along Percy's jawline before removing his hand altogether, “you have a lot to learn about women.” 

With a smile, Percy corrects him. “One woman,” he says, blushing as he thinks about Annabeth.  

Poseidon’s eyes soften at the sight. “If that’s what you want, I’m sure that can be arranged.”

Percy looks confused at this strange response, but he leaves it be. The next day, Poseidon watches his sons fight trident to trident and feels content. 

Only… 

“Son, what weapon does your intended wield?” 

Percy looks over, just barely ducking the butt of Triton’s weapon. “What? Uh, Dad, can you ask me later?”

Triton swings hard at him, and Percy awkwardly blocks, unused to the length of the trident. “You should be able to deal with distractions, Perseus,” Triton chides, and Poseidon nods. 

Percy rolls his eyes. “A knife usually, though she got a sword in Tartarus when she lost it. Annabeth is more about stealthy wins than brute force.” Percy looks like he wants to say more but has to drop and roll to avoid Triton’s next strike. 

Poseidon sighs at his response and gestures for his sons to continue. Sea gods can be clever, but still, usually face their enemies head on. A knife is not optimal, nor a sword that is not comfortable.

He stops a servant, who bows deeply. “My Lord?”

“This afternoon, bring my son Tyson to me,” Poseidon orders. The servant nods, and Poseidon smiles. There. Handled. 

-

Annabeth is heading back to Cabin Three, excited to see her boyfriend alone after a week without him, when she hears sniffling in the woods to her right. When she goes to investigate, she finds a young boy, maybe ten years old, tucked into a small ball with his head buried in his knees. 

“Are you hurt?” Annabeth asks, immediate and maybe a little bit harsh. She’s never been great with small children like Percy is. They all seem to love him, and though the young campers are nice and respectful to her, Percy tells her that they’re likely intimidated by her resume. When she fires back at him about his own deeds, he just shrugs, but she knows what he means by it. It’s difficult for people to see Percy as terrifying until they see him in action, and then, it’s very difficult to unsee. Not for the first time, she wonders what their friends would have thought had they seen him in the Pit. Annabeth loves Percy more than anything, from his good heart to his darkest actions, but even she had to work through what he had to do for them to survive. 

The kid looks up at her, eyes red and wide, sniffling hard. His orange camp shirt is wet with tears around the collar.  “Oh - I - sorry. I didn’t mean…”

“It’s okay,” she says as kindly as she can, sitting down next to him. He scoots over to make room for her automatically, though it’s unnecessary. “What’s your name? I’m Annabeth.” 

“I know,” the kid blurts out, wiping his hand across his face. “I mean, I’m Jake.” He pauses. “Son of Aphrodite.” 

Annabeth nods. She remembers seeing him at that table, now that she thinks about it. Percy and she aren’t at camp as much with college, but they always come back for the summer to help train and protect the half bloods. They’ve only been back for a little while, and have left multiple times to gather demigods in danger, so Annabeth hasn’t gotten to know all the new campers yet. 

“Did someone hurt you?” Annabeth repeats. Jake shakes his head. “Did someone say something?” Usually, the younger campers catch a break, but it’s not unheard of for Ares campers to start early. Percy has been working to better handle that inflammatory cabin, but Annabeth is pretty sure his attempts to talk to them are not enough.

“No,” Jake says, loud and accusatory, bringing her attention back to the problem in front of her. “She never says anything!”

Annabeth is starting to understand, feeling a whisper of discomfort echo down her spine. She’s not sure she’s ready to have this conversation after recent events. “Who?” She asks, suppressing any memories of her mother.

Jake sighs, hugging his knees tighter. “I pray to her every day. I thought maybe she’d appear because Lord Apollo does sometimes, and Lord Dionysus lives here. I’ve seen some of the others too, but she still doesn’t come.” The boy breaks down into tears. “I thought - maybe just if she sent a message? Like, I’m here? Or something?” Jake rubs his eyes furiously, looking down. “But I’m alone in this stupid camp just like out there.” 

Annabeth makes a mental note to talk to Percy about Aphrodite. If she’s not honoring her oath, her boyfriend will have something to say about it. “I won’t make excuses for your mom, Jake,” she says finally, swallowing hard at the memory of the riptide trying to hold her in the ocean. Until that moment, she has never been truly afraid of her mom. Intimidated? Yes. But afraid? “But you’re not alone,” she adds aloud. “You have your cabinmates - and they’re nice, right?” Jake nods, smiling a little. “And me,” Annabeth throws out there, uncomfortable. “If you need help, I’ll be there.” 

Jake looks up at her, eyes wide, and Annabeth tries to smile. “Really?” He asks, mouth open in a little ‘o’. 

Annabeth’s heart melts a little at the cute sight. “Really,” she confirms, standing. She holds out a hand, helping Jake to his feet. “Now, I’ll take you back to your cabin, okay? And I’ll talk to your counselor so he knows you were with me because it’s almost curfew.” 

They walk in silence for a moment, then Jake opens his mouth. “Can I ask you a question?” Annabeth gestures for him to continue. He pauses, obviously gathering his courage, and Annabeth braces herself. “Can we pray to other gods? Like, not just our parent?”

Annabeth freezes. “Um.” Maybe. If your parent is not Athena. 

“I just mean,” he continues, unaware of her turmoil, “they’re our family too, right?” 

Annabeth sighs, slowing them both to a stop in sight of the Aphrodite cabin. “You can,” she agrees hesitantly. “But you might offend your mother. That’s not always the best idea.” 

Jake’s face crumples. “But she doesn’t want me. Maybe… maybe…” 

Annabeth feels her heart go out to this kid. “Okay, don’t cry. Um.” She pulls a chocolate out of her pocket that she had been saving for Percy and a matchbox, lighting the match and watching the chocolate begin to melt over her fingers. “Lord Poseidon,” she begins, and Jake’s eyes go comically wide. “I hope you’re doing well. I saw the ocean earlier today. Uh, it looks really beautiful. Percy said the fish in the bay are really happy.” She pauses, turning to Jake. “What do you want me to ask for?”

Jake has apparently forgotten his worries as he grabs her arm with excitement, bouncing on his toes. “Um, um… A pony! No. A storm? Wait, can he get us a Slip ‘N Slide? That’s water, right?” 

Annabeth rolls her eyes. “If you could get us a Slip ‘N Slide,” she prays aloud, hoping this is not what gets her smote after everything, “that would be great. I’ll make sure Percy visits again this week. Thanks.” The match burns out, and nothing happens. Wiping the chocolate off her hand, she turns back to Jake. “That’s just an example. I doubt Poseidon’s going to give me anything, but you see? Not smote.”

Jake smiles at her, then his eyes go wide. “Um, Annabeth?”

“Yes?”

“Is that what I think it is?” He asks, pointing behind her. Annabeth turns, and her jaw actually drops. 

The next day, Annabeth and Percy watch as the kids squeal, flying down the Slip ‘N Slide. Well, Annabeth watches as Percy and the kids laugh their way down the Slip ‘N Slide. After a while, she shrugs, running up the hill and joining them. After all, it would be a shame if Poseidon gets upset because she’s not using her gift. 

Percy had disappeared this morning when she told him everything and came back smug, so Annabeth is not surprised when, in a burst of light, Aphrodite sends Jake an invitation for a shopping spree. Jake hugs Annabeth tightly, and Annabeth squeezes him back. 

“You should go to Atlantis today,” Annabeth says when Percy walks up to her, tossing his wet curls, grinning as he kisses her softly. 

“I was just there,” Percy complains. “I thought we were going to run drills?” 

“I’m running drills,” Annabeth corrects. “You’re going to Atlantis. We can go on a date tonight.” 

Percy nods, acquiescing, kissing her one more time. “I think I liked it better when you and Dad didn’t talk,” he jokes.

“No, you didn’t,” Annabeth says smugly. 

Percy bounces away, waving at her as he jogs toward the sea. “No, I didn’t!” He calls out, blowing her a kiss. 

Annabeth blushes as the young campers titter. If she could see the sea, she would say it looks like it is sparkling. 

-

Percy finds her later at the Poseidon table, which he had urged her to sit at during meals for fear of her mother. He had promised that his father said it’s fine, and though Annabeth still offers prayers to her mother, she breaks bread only with Percy or alone, when Percy is gone. 

She has her summer reading spread out, determined to get a head start on her classes despite the uncertain situation in which she now finds herself. Percy places his dinner down carefully around her books after offering a cheerful prayer aloud to Poseidon, Amphitrite, and most of his siblings, including a mortal Estelle Blofis, at the fire, ending the rambling monologue with ‘and none for Triton, bye!’ much to the amusement of the campers and Dionysus, who everyone knows hopes Percy gets a what-for one of these days. Only Chiron looks slightly concerned. 

Percy eats, waiting semi-patiently for her to finish her chapter. Okay, not patiently, really, from the way he stares at her with his leg bouncing. 

“Hi Percy,” she says finally. “How was Atlantis?”

Percy nearly bursts. “I feel like we left things kind of weird after this morning,” he blurts out. Annabeth just stares at him, and Percy sighs. “I know I’ve been messing with you about my dad,” he explains, “but if he’s making you uncomfortable, I can tell him to stop.”

Annabeth continues to look at him, a little disbelieving. Yeah right. “He’s a god, Percy,” she says slowly.

Percy rolls his eyes. “And you’re Annabeth, Annabeth,” he argues. “You’re my favorite person in the world. You and mom,” he adds. Always Sally Jackson’s son, Annabeth thinks even as she warms at Percy’s compliment. “If I’ve gotta fight the old man and the sea to make things okay, I’ll make some sushi.”

With a smile, Annabeth reaches forward and squeezes his wrist. She ignores the heckling from the other tables. “You’re going to fight Lady Amphitrite’s father?” she teases, but she can’t help but giggle. 

Percy frowns, but his eyes are twinkling. “Oh yeah, I should be more specific. If I’ve gotta fight my dad, Poseidon, God of the Seas, Earthshaker, Guy Who Dresses Like He’s Blind, Man Who Needed A Dolphin to Convince His Wife to Marry Him, Keeper of the Fishing Pole of Death-”

With a sudden flash, Rhodes appears at their table, looking a tad frazzled. “Perseus, if you would like to cause our father to rebuild a wing of the palace, by all means, continue-” 

Percy scoffs. “What? He’s afraid he can’t take me-”

Rhodes’ eyes widen, and Annabeth does not want to know what just happened in Atlantis. “Percy-”

“Okay, fine, gods.” Percy claps his hands together, palm to palm, looking up. “Dad-”

“Wrong direction-” 

Percy immediately looks east. “Dad” he begins again. “Sorry. Your titles are cool. Your shirts are… interesting. Amphitrite definitely made A Choice when she married you.” He pauses, trying to remember all the things he just said, and the ground shifts a little beneath them. One camper starts to cry, and Percy pales. “Uh… uh… Oh! I like going fishing with you. I’m sure you could, um, take me in a fight. Probably. I did beat Ares when I was twelve-”

The earth rumbles again, and the campers all stand, readying themselves for a fight against… tectonic plates. Yeah, this is going to go very well. “Perseus!” Chiron calls, a note of unfamiliar panic in his tone.

Dionysus laughs, holding up his can of Diet Coke in a salute. “No, keep going!” 

Dionysus’ approval seems to shock some sense into Percy, who glares at the God before redirecting his attention back to his father with a shove from Annabeth. “Sorry, sorry! I mean, let’s go fishing tomorrow? You can tell me all about your scariest fights so I can cower before you and all that. I mean, sending sea monsters to drag people to their death? That’s, um, really cool.” Percy makes a face that Annabeth prays Poseidon can’t somehow see. 

The earth pauses in its assault, and Percy’s sister actively relaxes. Then, sighing in exasperation, mumbling something about new construction and Triton’s bad moods, she kisses Annabeth on the forehead and completely ignores Percy, disappearing on the spot. 

Percy looks over at Annabeth, who has her head in her hands. “Looks like we might have to move our plans tomorrow,” he says sheepishly. 

“Sometimes I wonder how you’re still alive,” Annabeth grumbles. 

Percy comes around the table and puts his arm around her. Against her better judgment, Annabeth lets him. “He likes when I’m impertinent,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck at Annabeth’s dubious stare. “To a certain extent,” he amends. Then, he grows serious. “Still, you know I’d go to bat for you against anyone, right?” 

“You always have,” Annabeth says softly. “Percy,” she adds, quietly, because she knows the entirety of camp is listening in, “he loves you a lot.” 

“I know.” 

“He wants you with him.” 

“I know. And I love spending time with him. But I want to be with you, okay? That’s the end of it.” 

It’s on the tip of her tongue to correct him, to share her own suspicions. But she wants answers first, and if she’s only going to get to talk to Poseidon on Poseidon’s terms, she knows only one other place to get some. 

-

When she manages to get away from all of her duties at camp, Annabeth goes to New York. She knocks gently on Sally Jackson’s door, smiling at the many blessings carved into the doorframe. Poseidon, his children, Apollo… 

Annabeth’s eyes catch on a carving of a lightning bolt alongside one of a helm. 

Huh. If she thinks too much about that, her head might explode. 

Sally opens the door, hugging Annabeth tightly in greeting before following her gaze to the carvings. “Oh, uh, I think Hades felt guilty about the whole Minotaur thing. And you know your grandfather doesn’t like to be left out,” she adds, winking. Thunder rumbles in the distance, but it is the quietest, meekest thunder Annabeth has ever heard. She says nothing about it. Zeus might not strike Sally Jackson down, but she doesn’t think he’d have any qualms about Annabeth Chase’s demise. After all, the gods would never admit to fearing a mortal, but if they did, Annabeth suspects Sally Jackson would be first on the list. 

“I have company,” Sally is saying as she leads Annabeth into the apartment. Annabeth braces herself for lying to some mortal about her entire life, but instead, a beautiful woman with dark green, almost black hair, in a flowing white dress with shell clasps, sits on the couch. Annabeth does not have to guess who this woman is, and she bows out of respect. “Amphitrite has offered to be a test subject for my new book.”

After she straightens, Annabeth looks between her two future mothers-in-law, feeling a bit like she’s been dropped in the twilight zone. How is it possible that these two women are friends? “Oh, what’s it about?” She asks politely. 

“It’s, uh, a romance,” Sally offers, hesitant and with a faint blush. “Amphitrite has some relevant experience regarding the male lead.”

The Queen of the Seas hums from the couch, nose deep in the manuscript, long hair spilling across the tan cushions. “Ooh,” she observes, raising her eyebrows as her eyes fixate on a section. "He did that thing with his tongue for you as well? I’m glad, Sally, you certainly deserve such care.”

Annabeth flushes bright red, eyes darting down the floor. As the daughter of a knowledge goddess, there are very few things she doesn’t want to learn about. What Poseidon can do with his tongue might be number one on the list. 

“I don’t think Annabeth wants to hear about that,” Sally says, giving her a sympathetic glance. 

Amphitrite reluctantly puts the book down on her lap, but she leans forward in interest. “Oh, so you and Perseus have not…”

“Okay!” Sally interrupts, putting a motherly hand on Annabeth’s shoulder. “Annabeth, dear, help me check on the cookies?”

Once they’re in the kitchen, Annabeth can no longer contain herself. “I didn’t know you two… spent time together,” Annabeth finishes lamely.

Sally shrugs. “She offered, and you don’t turn down a goddess. Not to mention, I like her. Percy loves it.”

“And…” Annabeth trails off, pointing a thumb in the vague direction of the Atlantic Ocean. 

“Shockingly? He’s ecstatic. Of course, that’s mostly because his family is showing an interest in Percy. I assume things will change if Amphitrite and I ever agree on anything to his detriment.” Sally pulls the cookies out of the oven, glancing over at the window. Annabeth is not sure what she’s looking for, but she soon turns back to Annabeth, taking her arm and leading her out of the kitchen. “His character is not always consistent, but one thing will never change: Percy’s father is quite used to getting his way,” she adds as they reenter the living room. Amphitrite hums in agreement.

The wind picks up outside the window, somehow even quieter and meeker than the thunder. 

This seems as good a segue as any. She hadn’t planned to have this conversation in front of Poseidon’s wife, but she feels like she’s running short on time. “When you were… dating Percy’s father,” she begins, casting an apologetic look at Percy’s father’s wife, who waves her off. “Were you ever worried? About his…” She pauses, searching for words. “Character?” She finishes eventually.

Amphitrite and Sally share a heavy glance filled with something that Annabeth can’t quite place. After what feels like a silent discussion to which Annabeth is not privy, Amphitrite stands. “It feels like I should probably have plausible deniability about this conversation,” she says easily. “Not to mention, someone is a little too bored if he is spending time listening to private conversations between mortals,” she says pointedly. 

Raindrops begin to tap on the windowsill. 

Amphitrite waves an arm, and the rain stops. “Have your talk,” she orders, casting an exasperated look as the rain starts in earnest on the other side of the block. Annabeth can hear the people on the street shouting about how strange it is that the rainy weather and sunny skies are split down the middle of the road.  “I’ll be back tomorrow, Sally.” The goddess pauses at the doorway, turning to Annabeth. “There are seldom ways to bar my husband from that which he desires,” she says. “Be cautious, child, and do not fight Perseus’ battles for him. My step-son is perfectly capable, and my husband will never harm him. He has many allies beneath the seas, Annabeth Chase. If you are clever, so will you.” Following her advice, and in a burst of water, she disappears. 

Sally sighs, gesturing for Annabeth to join her on the couch. Annabeth goes, and Sally takes her hand. “He’s a god, Annabeth,” she answers, finally. “They feel things differently than humans, but I never felt unloved. Paul is easier, and someone I want to raise children with, but I wouldn’t take back that summer for anything. Even if it was more on his terms than mine. Or his brother’s, at least,” Sally amends. 

Annabeth nods. “Do you think he would ever hurt Percy?” She asks, hesitant. 

Sally looks at her sharply. “Why do you ask?”

“He wants Percy to ascend.”

Sally exhales. “Yes, he’s told me.”

Annabeth frowns. “He just… told you?”

Sally sighs. “He knows that I know Percy best.” 

“But it’s not something Percy wants,” she argues, gripping Sally’s hand tighter.

“It’s not,” Sally agrees. “And I will defend Percy’s choices to my death.” She pauses, eyes trailing again to the window. “But… his father is not wrong,” she says quietly.

“Sally…?” 

“I’m afraid,” Sally admits. “As his mother, I worry all the time that he won’t get to live the life he wants. It’s… it’s inconceivable for a parent to outlive her child. As much as I understand his choices, I wish he was powerful enough that no one could force you two on quests, that his father could intercede on his behalf, unbound by his brother’s laws...” Sally closes her eyes. “I know it’s unfair to say, but you can’t understand what I mean until you have a child of your own.” 

Though she’s taken aback by Sally’s response, Annabeth reaches forward and hugs the woman tightly. “I know. Percy’s just had so much taken away from him. And I’m afraid too; I don’t want to be one of those things.” 

Sally smiles through tears. “You don’t have to commiserate with me, Annabeth. Amphitrite confides in me, as does Poseidon.” The naming is intentional, and the rain immediately restarts outside their apartment to the shouts of the people below. 

Annabeth nods against Sally’s shoulder, studies a long cut on her own hand that she received yesterday from practice. There is a little fleck of dried, dark red blood, and Annabeth shuts her eyes tightly. Imagines not red, but gold. 

After a few more moments, and aware of the eyes now on them, Annabeth waves goodbye to Sally and returns to camp with blue cookies in hand. She makes her way to Cabin Three, which welcomes her with the smell of ocean spray, and joins Percy in his bunk, curling into him. He accepts her easily, kissing her forehead. 

“How was my mom?” He whispers. 

“Good. She gave me your favorite,” she replies, handing over a cookie. “And your dad?”

“Weird,” Percy admits. “He asked me your favorite color, and there’s like, underwater construction happening in the room next to mine.” He pauses, a little disbelieving. “I know he likes you, but he doesn’t like people that aren’t family in the palace. I guess he’s really making an effort.”  

Annabeth shuts her eyes. “I think I know what’s happening,” she admits. 

Percy turns her around so they are face to face in the dark. “What?” He murmurs, pressing his forehead against hers. 

Annabeth nuzzles against him, but shakes her head. “I want to talk to your dad first. I don’t want to make him…” angry , she doesn’t say, but Percy nods solemnly. “Just… be normal around him until I can.” 

“Play a few pranks on him, got it.” 

“Percy!” 

“What? That’s normal!” 

Annabeth can’t help but giggle, hugging him tightly. She’ll talk to Poseidon soon.

Somewhere, three women pause in their knitting, listening to something beyond the gods, titans, and primordials. Then start again, furiously, pricking their well-worn fingers. 

Annabeth Chase will have one chance to speak again to Poseidon as she is. But no one ever specified the circumstances. 

-

Meanwhile, under the sea, Poseidon has been waiting. He watches his son and his son’s girlfriend fight monsters, go to college, call out gods for bad behavior, and survive. He taps his trident on the floor impatiently, ignoring the knowing looks he gets from his wife. 

It is not in the nature of the sea to be passive. To wait. 

Then, just as he is ready to force the issue, his patience is rewarded. 

-

Annabeth sacrifices herself for a boy that looks exactly like Luke Castellan. Really, it’s irony in its truest form.

She had volunteered to undertake a mission to rescue a demigod child. A son of Hermes. After Luke, Hermes in particular is the best at informing them about his children in danger. When he had sent a note letting Camp know that monsters were sniffing around his nine year old in Hartford, Connecticut, Annabeth had slipped away on the train, promising Chiron that she would only survey the situation and wait on her backup to act. Will is finishing up treatment on a new camper, and then he’s meant to follow her on the next train. 

When Annabeth arrives at the house, she hears screaming. Flicking a drachma in the air, she sends a quick IM to Will and draws her sword, charging forward. 

She finds everyone in the kitchen. Blood everywhere. A woman, dying or dead on the linoleum, black and white checkered floor. A boy, screaming in the corner of the room between the wall and the refrigerator with Hermes’ eyes. Luke’s eyes. Three monsters, cornering the boy, all turning in her direction as she shouts for their attention. 

The fight is going reasonably well when a fourth and fifth monster shows up. No sign of Will. 

Annabeth knows that she is in trouble. She manages to kill three of them, but one gets in a parting swipe to her midriff, the other to her arm, another to her head. She crashes against the kitchen island, scrambling for another weapon, slapping a monster with a convenient spatula and following up with a stab. She’s seeing double, and the child is still screaming. She fights the urge to scream back, to tell him to shut up, to tell him to run. She doesn’t want to bring attention to him, and he’s refusing to act with any sort of self-preservation. 

She kills the fourth with a handy can opener, but the fifth has gotten a clue, turning for the boy. She sends a desperate apology into the aether for her Percy and, without further hesitation, throws herself between the boy and the monster. 

With a desperate stab, she kills the creature, but he slashes her chest in turn. Everything is turning numb. The boy scrambles further away from her, his screams becoming hoarse as he stares at the body behind her, beginning to sob. Annabeth has no energy to comfort him, to help him anymore. She lays there, breathing shallow, braids caked in dirt and blood. She knows that she is slipping. 

Percy, I’m sorry, she tries to whisper, but only a puff of air leaves her lips. Mother… mother… Nothing. Of course. Lord Poseidon?

Like he is simply lying in wait for her pitiful summons, from one instant to the next, Poseidon kneels by her side. He is no fisherman, nor does he look anything like Percy’s father, with his glowing trident in hand and his bare arms glistening with sea water. He wears a chiton with green accents, and she can see seaweed and bits of coral and little beach crabs in his long beard and tangled, curly hair. Closed clams cling onto some of the curls, swaying when he moves his head. A crown of pearls and starfish sits on his brow, and Annabeth watches with numb fascination as one of the starfish detaches an arm to better grip his temple. In her ears, she hears the strange sounds of the depths, of the trenches, the secrets of which only the being in front of her truly knows. 

On paper, it sounds strange and unusual. But in person, the true image is terrifying. He comes to her as a god, as the Sea God, and Annabeth is pretty sure she knows why. She only wishes she had more time to confront him, to iron out the details, to talk to Percy. As it is, her timeline is blown to pieces, and she’s well aware that Poseidon holds the majority of the cards.

But not all of them. 

He opens his mouth, and Annabeth can see barnacles growing between his teeth. “Are you afraid of death, daughter of Athena?” He asks, grinning sharply. 

Despite her terror, Annabeth finds herself suddenly with the ability to speak. She’s not sure if it’s the god’s doing, or if terror and desperation has dulled her agony. “Lord Poseidon,” she manages. “B-boy?” 

Poseidon blinks, his atavistic smirk fading to an inscrutable look. “I have sent him to his room, child. Your friend is near, and he will be saved. But you… that remains to be seen.” 

Annabeth looks over at the dead woman to avoid Poseidon’s stormy gaze. She’s young. Mother or babysitter? “I’m dying,” she wheezes, hands slippery on the bloody linoleum floor. White and black and red all over, she thinks, half delirious. 

Poseidon nods, tilting his head. “You are,” he says gravely,  “but it is unnecessary.” Annabeth forces herself to look at him, watches through blurry vision as he begins to glow, bright, too bright, fixing her in place with a single, imperious glare. “I offer you immortality, a part of my domain, and a place in my kingdom.” 

Annabeth feels her eyes burn with tears of pain, but she cannot look away. She wants to react, wants to demand answers, wants to lose her mind on her boyfriend’s father who has woven a complicated web that necessitates her willing capture, that his unpredictable son might slice through in an instant. But she can barely move, barely form words. “Why?” she breathes. She cannot feel her legs or arms.

Poseidon raises an eyebrow. At least, Annabeth thinks he does, if his eyebrow is made up of the neural spines of tiny fish vertebrae. “You are too clever, even in this condition, to ask such a question.” 

She exhales, shaky and aching. The pain is fading, but she knows that’s not a good thing. Still, Poseidon is right. She knows his purpose. Now that he is revealing his cards, the rest of the game is obvious. Even as she lays dying. “You want Percy,” she breathes. “You would… make me… for Percy.” 

It’s not a question, but Poseidon graciously treats it as one. “You will find, daughter of Athena, I would do much to keep my son with me.”

“My… mother…” 

“She will have no part of this,” Poseidon snaps, a small, white crab swinging from his beard to land on her hip. Neither of them pay the creature any mind, and it scuttles to rest over Annabeth’s barely thumping heart. “This is between you and I.” Something is roaring in Annabeth’s ears; she’s not sure if it’s her own brain shutting down or Poseidon himself. “But if it is protection from her rage you seek, I will give it. If you recall, I have already given it.” 

Annabeth’s body, over which she no longer has control, begins to stop trembling. She really thought she would have more time to bargain, to be clever, but her very nature as a demigod has ruined everything. She wants to be strong, but she’s frightened. She doesn’t want to die. She wants to see Percy again, and there’s no guarantee, even in the afterlife. Only Poseidon’s offer gives her that chance. “If I agree,” she murmurs, “you will let Percy choose.” Every word is a trial, but every word is also essential. “If he… if he still wants mortality, you will stop.” 

Poseidon says nothing, but she can feel him, like she’s floating in his endless waters, miles of him stretching in every direction and down, down, down…

“You promise?” Annabeth says, blood trailing over her lip, sounding strangely like an ordinary young girl. 

Poseidon tilts his head, and Annabeth hears the creaking of ropes on a ship rocked by the waters, sees the sandbar drop into the depths in the slope of his shoulders. Or where his shoulders would be, if he had them. He looks less than a man to her now, and she thinks distantly that this is the Father of Monsters. “I offer you immortality, and you attempt to bargain?” He warns with the echo of whale song, unsure if he is more vexed or surprised. 

“P-promise,” she repeats, barely audible.

“You are almost out of time, child.” 

“P-pr-”

Poseidon has had enough. “If my son chooses mortality despite your ascension,” he says stiffly, unwilling to let his best chance disappear because of a promise that he can work around if necessary. Besides, he knows his son. This promise will not matter, because Percy will always choose Annabeth. “I will not interfere.” 

Annabeth exhales. With his promise extracted, she is beginning to feel like she is floating. She thinks she sees a dark figure out of the corner of her eye, watching the proceedings solemnly, and knows she doesn’t have much more time. “I don’t wanna die,” she finally admits, a last truth on nearly a last breath, a single tear sliding down her cheek. 

After sending the true weight of the sea’s glare at Thanatos, who disappears in a flash, Poseidon softens. This girl is to be his daughter-in-law, after all. A goddess of his own domains. A little affection would not go amiss. “So you won’t.” 

Then, with a whoosh of air and the entrance of one surprised Will, who has just burst through the door, they are gone.

Chapter Text

Atlantis goes silent in awe as a new godly presence enters its borders. The news escapes easily and freely, and thunder and lightning follow, crashing against the smooth, unbroken surface of the water. Sailors and fishermen take one look at the phenomenon and head inland. The sea is as anticipatory as the sky is angry, the oldest of them say. The ocean is waiting, they warn. 

The ocean does not have to wait long. 

Annabeth is below the sea for a mere hour before Percy passes Atlantis’ borders. Poseidon senses his son entering his kingdom and flashes from Annabeth’s bedside to his throne, awaiting his son without the typical guards posted at the entrances. In fact, all individuals who work in the palaces are sent home by decree of the Queen of the Seas. No need for them to witness family matters.

With a loud slam, both throne room doors nearly break from their hinges as Percy bursts into the room. “Where is she?” He yells, clutching a Riptide still in pen form, propelling himself forward faster than Poseidon has ever seen with the aid of the currents. He looks both furious and terrified, skin bleached white and knuckles red where he grasps the mortal version of his sword. 

Holding up a hand to calm his son, Poseidon raises an eyebrow. “Safe, Perseus. I saved her,” he soothes, and Percy’s suddenly nerveless fingers drop Riptide, only for the sword to flash back to his pocket. “And I would appreciate not being yelled at for such a deed,” he adds, leaning forward. 

With a huge sigh of relief, Percy immediately deflates. Without the currents holding him up, Poseidon is sure he would’ve dropped to his knees. “Gods, sorry, I’m sorry,” he murmurs, looking up at his father like he is the one who hangs the moon every night, and not his niece. Poseidon’s chest puffs out at his son’s expression. “I’m just worried,” Percy admits, coming closer to the throne. “She’s here, though? Or did you take her to Apollo? She’s not at camp, and Will said he saw you disappear with her.”

“She is here,” Poseidon confirms, still hesitant. He would never admit it, but he is not sure what he’s waiting for. 

Percy smiles widely at him, and Poseidon’s heart clenches in his chest. “Well? Where? Let’s go,” he says, turning around and walking in the direction of the side doors that lead directly to the royal family’s private wing. 

Poseidon stands then, a single clam swinging from his hair in an otherwise human guise. “You cannot be in the room with her, Percy,” he says finally, drawing his son to a stop with his warning. “It is too dangerous.”

Percy turns back to him. “What?” He asks, a little numbly. 

“You cannot look upon her,” Poseidon clarifies. Then, standing in front of his throne, maybe ten steps away from his son, he waits. After about twenty seconds of silence, he can see the exact moment Percy realizes, the exact moment all of Poseidon’s actions and words connect together in a larger puzzle that spells out his plans. 

Percy studies the floor beneath them. Somewhere, somehow, a fishing boat capsizes in a violent wave. The old fishermen look out from their safe place in the harbor, sober and knowing. “Did you arrange this?” He says quietly, but there is no longer a single boat at risk. No, the sea is now raging, lit up violet and turquoise and grey as the lightning continues to strike it with fury. Poseidon feels the tectonic plates of the earth shifting beneath their feet, can hear the quiet gasps and prayers throughout his kingdom and around the mortal world, and feels nothing but pride.

“Perseus…” He begins, stepping down off the raised dais of his throne, leaving his trident in the fishing pole holder. 

Percy’s hands form into fists; when he looks at his father, his eyes turn a deeper green. “Did you sic those monsters on her?” He interrupts, his tone rising in strength with the Gulf Stream. 

With barely a thought, Poseidon takes over for his son and rearranges the current to his own liking. Perseus is not the god of anything in the ocean, after all. Yet. “Of course not,” he denies, affronted despite the knowledge that he probably would have done something like that had he been waiting any longer. He’s a good father. He refuses to risk Percy and Annabeth’s immortal lives any longer. “You are demigods. It was unlikely that I would have an unimaginable wait.” 

Percy looks down at that, reminded of Annabeth’s own dreams: to live a long life with him, to be the best architect of their generation. Poseidon speaks the difficult truth: despite their dreams, monsters wait around every corner to remind them why half bloods live short lives. “Did… did she ask for it?” He asks, finally. The palace ceases to rumble. 

Poseidon shakes his head, a crab scurrying down his arm and jumping freely into the open water. “I offered.” 

With a disbelieving laugh that edges on hysterical, Percy mirrors his father’s motion. He still can’t believe that they’re having this conversation at all. “But she agreed to it?”

The sea grows darker, somehow, more murky than Percy has ever seen in Atlantis. Poseidon approaches him, lifting his head with one finger. Percy shakes free, ignoring the way his father’s eyes flash, then calm. “Yes, my son, is that your concern?” He says, ducking slightly to keep Percy’s gaze. Poseidon is tall, taller than usual, Percy notes absently. His father tends to look like him, and right now, he does… but doesn’t. It's unfamiliar, and it makes Percy uncomfortable. “She agreed to it, even knowing what would unfold in the aftermath and the choice her actions would lay at your feet. Your girl is clever. She knew the future I intended to bring forth, and she agreed for you both.”

With a scoff, Percy crosses his arms. “The future you intended,” he repeats flatly. “Your actions.” 

Poseidon straightens, letting the guise of a hapless fisherman drop just a little more in his face, his expression, which is eternal and all-knowing in a way that hurts Percy’s direct gaze. He still does not look away. He will not be bullied, especially by his own dad. 

“I want you with me, Perseus,” Poseidon intones, and for a moment, Percy’s father is not the king of the sea. He is the Sea. “In my domain, at my side, in perpetuity. If I must make two gods to have one, I will do so.” Poseidon pauses, his godliness fading just a little. “I have spent time with your intended, as you know. To ensure an eternity with her would not be taxing. And I do like her. You have chosen well.” 

Percy refuses to be flattered this way. Sure, it’s been one of his recent life goals to have Poseidon give Annabeth some of the good, godly parent-y vibes that she no longer receives from her mother. This is definitely not what he had in mind. “What I chose was a mortal life, Father,” he spits out, eyes narrowed. 

Poseidon ignores his words and the stab of hurt he feels at the more formal address. “The change takes some time,” he observes instead, looking in the direction of the private wing. “A few hours, a few days.” 

Unwilling to be redirected, even in the direction of Annabeth, Percy needles further. “But… you can’t change her back.”

Poseidon’s anger spikes along with the Richter Scale in Northern California. “I cannot. Even if I could, she would be dead.” Percy flinches at the word, and Poseidon gives him a knowing look. “I have gifted you an eternity with the woman you love, who would’ve otherwise died. Are you not grateful?”

The ground beneath them shifts again as Percy takes a step forward, lines of fury written deep into his young, pale face. “Grateful? You want me to be grateful?” He laughs, sharp and hollow. “For what? Scheming against my wishes? Plotting for my immortality when I’ve made it very clear I want no part of the eternal family bullshit? Waiting until Annabeth was dying and vulnerable and changing her into a goddess? Before you even knew I would follow her?”

Poseidon grows taller still, anger shifting something beneath his skin, turning dangerous. He is so close to Percy that he can feel the water move around his son with his fingertips; the urge to reach out touch his son, to force a connection, is undeniable. “You love her,” he rumbles, and Percy is reminded of the time he sat on his father’s throne. Before, he had been worried he would be blown to bits. Now, the fear is not of death, but something else. Percy is not so brave as to be completely stupid, and he watches his father warily. “You will take my offer,” Poseidon demands. 

Percy stands as tall as he can, gazing up fiercely at his father. “And what if I don’t?” He challenges, worries of stupidity briefly forgotten. 

Everything stills. The sea, its creatures, its people. “Excuse me?” Poseidon says slowly. 

But Percy is still on a roll. “Did you even think about that?” Percy presses, and okay, maybe he’s a little shortsighted to be this direct, but he’s beyond upset, and he wants Poseidon to know it. “What if it didn’t work? You guys have been manipulating me and demanding things of me my whole life.” His hand twitches toward his pocket, then stills. “What if I draw the line here?”

Unable to stop himself with such a threat issued, Poseidon reaches out and curves his hand around the back of his son’s neck, bringing him closer. Percy does not protest, does not reach again for his sword, but his expression is the epitome of defiant. “You will not,” Poseidon rumbles, low and heated. 

Percy holds eye contact with him for a long time, locked in a battle that he knows he cannot win. Hissing his breath out between his teeth, something behind his eyes flickers. “I won’t,” he agrees after a long, nonverbal standoff. Poseidon blinks, releasing him, and he looks away in the direction of the royal family’s private quarters. “Is that what you want to hear? You win,” he adds, a defeat to his tone that Poseidon isn’t sure he likes. “I can’t leave Annabeth to deal with all of this alone.”

Even at this pronouncement, this acquiescence for which he has long waited, Poseidon does not feel the joy he thought he would. “But you would have left me alone,” he can’t help but point out, voice shockingly soft to Percy’s ears. 

Percy nods, unapologetic and cold in a way he seldom is. “I would,” he replies, refusing to pull any punches. No one has said he needs to go down with grace. “You’ve been around for a long time without me, Dad. You’d be fine.” 

With barely a thought, Poseidon’s trident blinks out of its holder and appears in his hand. He taps it once against the floor, and the earth trembles in earnest, echoing Percy’s small tremors with ease. His son looks taken aback, but no less obstinate, glaring up at him with vibrant, sea green eyes and tousled curls and the same set of his jaw that the god himself sees in the mirror. Poseidon closes his eyes for a moment, imagining screaming mortals and rising tides and continents split in two. Feels the power of it in his hands, knows the potential of the sea. 

In other words, Poseidon imagines grief. 

“I would drown the world at the loss of you, Perseus,” he says aloud. He’s no longer angry. Sad, maybe. The tide rolls back. “I love you. You cannot begin to understand the strength of a god’s love.” He pauses, inhaling sharply with the swirl of whirlpools before turning his resolve on his child. “But you will,” he promises. 

Percy turns his watery eyes on his father and nods. “I will. For Annabeth, because I don’t forgive you,” he adds, and the words cut deep as intended. “Well? Let’s get on with it. I don’t want to die before I can ascend, and knowing my luck, the next big bad is going to come charging through those doors in thirty seconds.”

Poseidon does not disagree, easily willing to wait until his son has ascended to gain his forgiveness, and grasps Percy’s wrist in his large hand. His boy’s bones are so mortal, so brittle, and he feels a wave of relief so strong that it nearly takes out the Thai coastline. 

Percy freezes at the touch, closing his eyes tightly. Then, his eyes fly open. “Wait,” he demands.  

Without hesitation, Poseidon stops for his favorite son. For a terrifying, numbing moment, the god wonders if he truly has the desirous cruelty, so strong in his youth, needed to go against Percy’s will, if he is truly about to change his mind. In the space between demigod and god, staring at his beautiful child whose mortality and goodness shines like the glittering waves at sunset, Poseidon thinks, maybe, the answer could be no. 

But Percy does not require such a heavy choice from him, one capable of reshaping the Sea God for the remainder of his days, so Poseidon will have to wonder for eternity. Instead, Percy looks up at his father, angry tears merging with the sea.

“Take me to see Mom first.”  

-

Sally yells at Poseidon for half an hour with her arms around her son, Paul and Estelle long gone to the park. Poseidon takes it, because he sees the pained understanding in Sally’s eyes. She’s angry, but unsurprised. She knows that it is an unmitigated tragedy for a child to die before his parents. Still, his ex-lover extracts promise after promise from him in a way only she and Amphitrite can. Yes, Percy will still be able to see her. No, he will not keep Annabeth and Percy apart. Yes, he will stand between her son and any god, monster, or titan that comes for him. Percy will be a god, after all. He is no longer part of Zeus’ ban on mortal affairs, and Poseidon plans to act accordingly even without Sally’s intervention. 

When she is done, Sally kisses Percy’s forehead for a long time. Poseidon wishes to reach forward, to hold them both, but he knows that he is unwelcome. Percy’s mother is saying goodbye to a part of her son that is about to burn into nothing. Percy will still be Percy, but he will be changed. Poseidon will not lie to Sally or his son. 

“Will it hurt?” Percy asks Amphitrite when she welcomes him back into Atlantis, some of his siblings at her side, as Poseidon leads him to his room. Amphitrite has already told him that she is sitting with Annabeth, and he impulsively hugs his step-mother as his father looks on with jealousy. Noting this, he offers several of his siblings similar embraces. They each hold him close, and he can feel Poseidon’s glare burning into his back. Triton, aware of their father’s envy, merely grasps his arm, and Percy rolls his eyes. Suck up. 

“I don’t know,” Amphitrite responds gently. “Your intended seems fine, but the process looks to be slow for her.”

Percy’s brow furrows. “It’s not the same for everyone?”

His step-mother looks at Poseidon as he swims to Percy’s side, guiding him into his room. Percy allows this, waving to his immortal family before Poseidon shuts the door on the peanut gallery. “Some individuals,” he rumbles, beginning to glow brighter, “are meant to be gods, Perseus.”

For a moment, everything goes brighter still. Percy opens his mouth to respond to his father, but his last mortal words have already been spoken.

In New York City, in a small apartment, Sally Jackson clutches her daughter to her and closes her eyes. Paul brings her a blue cookie and a match, which she lights. 

“Hail Percy Jackson,” she murmurs, voice shaking with grief, “my son, I pray to you-” 

Paul watches his wife, tears in his eyes, as she prays until she goes hoarse.

-

Annabeth takes two days to become a god. Percy ascends in thirty minutes.

He wakes to his mother’s prayers, letting out a shaky breath. Then, ignoring his father, he swims into the room next to his, and so begins the wait. 

For the next two days, Poseidon sits with him at Annabeth’s bedside. Percy does not look away from his girlfriend as she shines brighter than the sun, placing his hand on the soft mattress so his fingers rest mere inches from hers. Poseidon sits on Annabeth’s other side, and Percy knows instinctively that not all of his father is present in this moment. But Percy is. He has no urge to learn how to split his consciousness when all of Annabeth is in this room. “We will be called to Olympus when she is done,” Poseidon says eventually, breaking the silence. Percy doesn’t respond, eyes still focused on Annabeth. “Perseus,” his father tries again, firmer this time, “I need you to hear me.”

Percy grunts. 

With a sigh, Poseidon leans back in his chair, eyes turning to Annabeth as well. “I understand your position, Percy. You may be angry with me, but I would prefer it if you kept our grievances out of Olympus.”

The room gets a little colder as Percy’s hand clenches in the sheets. “Why would I do you any favors?” He snaps.

With a wave of his hand, Poseidon turns the room back to a normal temperature. It is an unsubtle reminder of the power dynamic still inherent in their relationship, and Percy clenches his teeth. “If you do not do it for me, do it for her,” Poseidon says. “My brother will not be content to allow so much power under the sea. If he sees discord, he will attempt to separate us. I cannot guarantee that your intended would not be given to her mother.”

Percy huffs. “I’m not going to play nice,” he replies. “But I won’t risk Annabeth.” His eyes finally flicker up to his father, then back down. “Guess you’ll just have to trust me, huh?”

Poseidon frowns in response but says nothing more. He continues to sit at Annabeth’s bedside with his son, Amphitrite and his children coming in to check on them periodically. He is still everywhere in his kingdom, can hear the songs of the merpeople and the whales and the smallest phytoplankton as they celebrate his godly child. Two temples are being erected near the palace, the work furious and fast, sea glass for his son and shining marble for his daughter-in-law. He hopes it reminds her of her work on Olympus. 

Offerings have already begun. He can tell Perseus feels each one, frowning in confusion, but he refuses to ask his father. Poseidon recognizes his obstinance, but he will not reward it. 

Eventually, he caves, but only to Amphitrite. “What is the purple stuff? I can see them leaving it, but I’ve never seen it before,” he asks when she brings him some nectar. It’s blue, and Percy grins up at her. 

“Purple coral,” Amphitrite replies, ignoring her husband’s annoyed glance. “It is meant to celebrate a happy engagement. It will spread where they plant it and stay in your temple for many centuries.” 

Percy groans. “I forgot about the marriage stuff.” He turns a soft glance on the glowing woman in the bed. “I hope she can forgive me.” 

Poseidon smiles. “Forgiveness is a beautiful thing,” he ventures. 

“Sure,” Percy says, scoffing, “when a bunch of merpeople think you’re engaged because your father always gets what he wants, forgiveness is great.” 

Pressing his lips together, Poseidon surveys his son. “Perseus…” he warns. 

“Nope,” Percy interrupts. “If you want to sit here and wait for Annabeth to wake up, that’s great. But don’t think this is going to turn into some sort of bonding time.” 

Poseidon, huffing, goes silent. And that’s how it remains. 

-

When Annabeth wakes, Percy and she share one, nervous glance before the water distorts around them. In a moment, Percy draws Riptide and blocks Annabeth. Poseidon stands, though he looks unconcerned, which relaxes Percy. Slightly. 

With a strange pop, Hermes appears in the doorway. Percy drops his stance, but he leaves Riptide drawn, watching as Hermes looks around. When his eyes catch on Annabeth and Percy, they widen. 

He smiles widely at them, but the expression goes shaky when he briefly meets Poseidon’s gaze. “Hey, cousin! Hey, niece! You guys look great, you really do,” the god rambles. 

Drawing his trident to him, Poseidon steps forward. “Your decorum is lacking, nephew,” he chides. Annabeth and Percy share an unreadable glance as Percy reaches back to help Annabeth to her feet. Kind of. They are underwater, so it’s more of a floating situation. 

“Uh, Uncle!” Hermes greets, bowing his head slightly. “Atlantis looks beautiful, etcetera, etcetera… I bet you can guess why I’m here,” he finishes lamely, winking at Percy.  

Poseidon vanishes his trident, and Hermes’ shoulders drop slightly. “My brother has never been known for his patience,” he says drily. “Very well. Go. Tell my brother we will arrive shortly.” It is rare that Poseidon doesn’t mind his brother's summons, but in this moment, he has no desire to hide away in his kingdom. He has everything he wants, and he wants to show them off. 

With a nod and another pop, Hermes disappears.

So, waving off his wife’s offer to join them, Poseidon gathers his two new gods and carefully guides them through their first teleportation. Percy has taken to godhood easily, but Annabeth is still hesitant, newer, questioning. Not instinctive. It’s okay. They can work on it. 

As soon as they land on Olympus, Annabeth gasps softly as someone sets purple coral down in both of their new temples. “What was that?” She wonders.

“Offerings,” Percy replies, before his father can explain the concept of engagement coral. He doesn't want to push Annabeth over the edge before they even see the other gods. “I know. It’s really weird.”

Annabeth pauses; then, with a sudden movement, she turns to her boyfriend, hands beginning to reach out to him. “Percy, I’m so-”

“Later,” Poseidon commands, and though both go quiet, Percy sends his father a warning glare. 

He takes Annabeth’s hand in his. “Later,” he repeats his father’s command, but as a gentle promise. Annabeth nods, squeezing his hand, and with Poseidon’s guidance, they turn to the throne room. 

“Brother,” Poseidon greets, walking into the spacious hall to a full council with his hand on the back of his son’s neck, Annabeth following with her fingers clasped tightly with Percy’s. He leads them both to his throne and directs them to stand to his side. Percy’s eyes are intent on Athena, who is red with fury. Percy gently guides Annabeth between himself and his father’s throne, and Poseidon looks on with pride. He doesn’t mind his son’s protective nature, understands it more than anything. Plus, Percy has always been meant to be a more powerful god than the daughter of Athena, who’s worth is far more in her mind and nature than sheer power. 

Annabeth on the other hand, meets every god’s glare easily except her mother’s. 

“Poseidon,” Zeus rumbles from his throne, master bolt sizzling in his hand. It’s a warning that his brother blatantly ignores. “What have you done?” 

Settling back into his throne, Poseidon maintains a casual innocence as his brother glares him down. “Only what has long been due to the Hero of Olympus.” 

Zeus grumbles but does not dispute this statement. “And the girl?” He redirects. 

“Annabeth Chase is a hero as well, many times over,” Poseidon responds levelly, gesturing to her with an open palm. “Is there anyone here who would deny that she is deserving?” 

The words are familiar to both new gods. Annabeth starts at Poseidon’s side, realizing that he has never before called her by her name. With a smug grin at Athena, he continues. 

“Annabeth would have died alone, fighting for the life of one of your children.” Hermes flinches before he catches Annabeth’s gaze, nodding to her gratefully. She remembers Hermes’ nerves in Atlantis, and suddenly realizes why. Both Percy and she are well within their rights to blame him, though neither will, in loath of discouraging gods from telling demigods where their children are located. “It was a fate unbecoming of my daughter.” 

“Your daughter?” Athena exclaims. 

“Uh, yeah?” Percy picks up easily, and Poseidon cedes the floor to his uncontrollable child. “Annabeth and me, we’re taking it slow. But I’m gonna ask her to marry me eventually.”

“Percy?” Annabeth breathes. 

But Percy is on a roll. “She’s almost his daughter-in-law. And he’s already helped her a hell of a lot more than you. Oathbreaker,” he adds, casually, but his eyes are storms. 

“Perseus,” Poseidon says calmly. “The tides have rolled back on the Japanese coast. If you mean to cause a tsunami, I will not interfere…” 

Percy’s eyes widen. “Oops. No. Good for now.” 

Zeus leans forward, raising an eyebrow. The bolt has been relegated back to its holder, and Annabeth is unsure whether that’s a good or bad thing. “You have given him the tides?”

“And fault lines,” Poseidon says proudly. “He is worthy.” 

“And the girl?” 

“To my Annabeth, I have given the trenches,” he says, ignoring Annabeth’s look of surprise. “Her curiosity is boundless and deep, like those chasms of my kingdom.” 

Athena stands up, growing tall and shining hard, and oh. This is what a god truly looks like. “Enough,” she hisses, and her voice carries throughout the hall. 

“Daughter,” Zeus begins, looking surprisingly uncomfortable. 

“No,” Athena interrupts. “Annabeth is my child. Her fate in the pantheon should rest with me and me alone. I have many domains to assign. What’s done is done. She is a goddess, but her place is with me.” She holds out an arm. “Come, my child.” 

Poseidon’s eyes glow a sickly, murky green as he stands himself. He does not assume his form, but that action is more of a taunt than anything. He is one of the Big Three, God of the Seas, born of Kronos and Rhea. He does not need to be his true self to counter her. “She is my child now, with my divinity, and I will not allow you to-”

Annabeth steps forward, dropping Percy’s hand, which slips in his pocket as he carefully watches Annabeth’s back. “My lord?” She interrupts softly. 

Poseidon turns to face her in all his terror, and he must see something in her expression, because he slowly sits back. Annabeth does not flinch. Not after seeing the version of Poseidon that made her a goddess; compared to that, this Poseidon is practically a fluffy bunny. 

Athena smiles smugly. “Exactly. Now, Annabeth-”

“No.”

Athena takes a step forward off her throne, and Annabeth can feel the power exuding from her skin. But that’s fine, because she can feel Percy covering her flank, and flashing in the corner of her eye, she sees Poseidon grip his trident, forearm flexing. 

“Excuse me?” Athena says, slow and disbelieving. 

With a shake of her head, and the might of the sea surrounding her, Annabeth speaks the truth with ease. “You… you tried to kill me, mother,” she accuses. “Last time I saw you, I said one thing that was not a compliment or prayer to you, and Lord Poseidon was the only one to stop you.” 

Athena sniffs, her glow dimming, though she remains her full godly height. Even so, Annabeth has walked through Tartarus. She is not intimidated. “Child, I would not have-”

“It doesn’t matter,” Annabeth interrupts, feeling all eyes on her. Some of the gods are shocked by her audacity, but other gods survey her with interest. Her eyes flick next to her mother, to Aphrodite, who is wearing a friendship bracelet around her wrist, one that she remembers Jake making for her a few months ago. “Poseidon might not be perfect,” she adds, ignoring the faint tremor of rebuke from behind her, “but even though I am not his child, he protected me like I was.”

Athena tilts her chin up, disapproving and cold. “You stupid child,” she spits out, “he is using you.” 

“So?” Annabeth challenges, Poseidon’s faint reproach changing to amusement. She can feel the same from Percy. Like father, like son. “I knew. Of course I did. He’s never tried to hide it. I knew exactly what he was trying to do and I agreed anyway. Because all I want is time with the man I love.” Aphrodite sighs from her throne just as Ares scoffs, then groans when his lover thumps him on the back of his head. “He’s granted me that kindness out of love for his child, something most of you could not fathom.” Annabeth crosses her arms, eyes leaving her mother to look around her. Some gods, like Zeus, look annoyed. Others, like Apollo, are grinning at her audacity. Others still, shockingly, seem contemplative. Hermes leans forward, a sadness to his demeanor. Annabeth has saved two of his sons at a great cost to herself, now. “I’ve been praying to him for a long time,” she adds, “and he’s the only one out of you all who answers. So yes. I choose to stay with Percy. And Poseidon. And study sea creatures in the trenches until the end of time. And redesign Atlantis because it is not optimal. And -”

“Annabeth,” Percy whispers, reaching for her wrist. 

Annabeth stops. The gods continue to stare at her, but when she glances back at Poseidon, he looks at her with a glimmer of the pride usually only reserved for his son. “I have made her of the depths, where even the sun cannot reach,” he explains to the council, pressing a hand on her shoulder, “and the sea has a deep knowledge, and a deeper memory.” 

At that, Zeus clears his throat, glaring at Athena until she retakes her seat, eyes still pinned to her daughter. “I don’t like this, Poseidon. Your son is powerful and dangerous, and the girl’s abilities are unknown. You are not prepared to manage such uncertainty in your domain. Now, if the girl were to stay here, we would have some assurance that you and your brat-”

At this, Percy steps forward and over, blocking Annabeth. Poseidon, almost in tandem, pulls her back by the shoulder to stand beside his throne. “No,” Percy says simply, chin uplifted, glaring at Zeus. 

Zeus leans forward. Were Annabeth to lick her lips, she knows that she would taste ozone in the air. “No?” He says back, drawing out the word like he’s never heard it before. 

“No,” Percy repeats, short and sweet. “You wanna hear it in Greek? Oxi. ” Annabeth hears a few muffled chuckles, and Poseidon doesn’t even pretend to hide his smirk. “Plus, isn’t this what you wanted? Me as a god?” 

Zeus glares at him. “I want you under control,” he says, his bolt sizzling from its position propped up against his throne. 

Percy grins, all teeth. “The sea does not like to be restrained,” he says, slow and taunting. Poseidon’s hand squeezes Annabeth’s shoulder, and his trident glows a familiar eerie green. 

Hermes leans over to mutter in Apollo’s ear, audible enough for the entire council to hear: “oh great, now we’re gonna have to hear that line from him too-”

Zeus sends a glare at Hermes, thunder rumbling just outside the throne room. Hermes shuts his mouth, miming zipping his lips closed. 

Poseidon removes his hand from Annabeth and stands. “My son has chosen to become a god, as is his right after the deeds he has done,” he says, ignoring Percy mouthing the word ‘chosen’ behind his back with a disbelieving expression on his face. “Annabeth, my creation, has been given a domain from me, as is proper.”

Percy coughs. “Atlantis’ official architect-”

Poseidon looks like he's trying desperately not to roll his eyes. “And she has been given the role of Atlantis’ official architect,” he adds to Annabeth’s shock and joy. “If there is any here who would take them out of the sea, they will have to go through me." Poseidon looks straight at Zeus, and Percy remembers a similar scene, being in this same room when he was twelve, watching his father stand between him and his uncle. With a hard swallow, he violently suppresses those warm and fuzzy feelings. “And this time,” Poseidon continues, his form shifting and flowing and just on the verge of changing, “I have no mortal son you can threaten in order to prevail through surrender.”

Zeus gapes at him in fury for a moment, and the entire room holds their breath. Then, after a long, sizzling silence, he sits back, though Annabeth can still feel the electricity in the air. This isn’t over. Not by a long shot. For a few seconds, she wonders if Zeus looks at the three of them and fears. “Very well,” he says, to a chorus of exhales. “But hear me, brother. If either of your new charges steps out of line, I will call you here, and we will have a very different conversation.” 

Poseidon inclines his head. “We will take our-”

“Hold up, I have one more thing to say.” 

Poseidon looks like he wants to drop his head into hands and scream, but instead he sighs. “Perseus.” 

“Father,” Percy says back, eyes dark, stepping forward into the center of the room. “You owe me one.” 

With a reluctant gesture, Poseidon gives him leave to continue. Percy nods, taking his eyes off his father and turning to Zeus.  “Your son might be god of heroes," he announces, his voice carrying easily, "but I will protect all demigods.”

Zeus clutches the armrests of his throne, and Annabeth wonders if this is what he meant by stepping out of line. She hopes not; Zeus knows Percy’s nature. He will not start a war over something that he has gotten so used to. Right? “You are immortal now, Perseus,” Zeus says, and Annabeth didn’t know better, she would say he sounds tired. “Your wish has been fulfilled, even if it is overdue.” 

Percy laughs, but his hands curl into fists. “Nope, you are not getting out of your promise because my dad is smart enough to know I’ll follow Annabeth anywhere. Especially now that I’m around for eternity." He looks very pointedly at each of the gods surrounding him. "Very few of you have fulfilled anything. Now, I will protect your children. And if you don’t want your kids to start praying only to Sea Gods, you better step it up.” 

“What, Poseidon gets a pass?” Apollo calls out. 

Percy glances over at Apollo, who grins at him. He has been one of the better parents, and Percy would probably count him as a friend. “I live with him, so I can keep an easier eye on him than the rest of you.” Percy’s mouth twitches as he turns back to his father. “And he will tell me about his future kids,” he adds pointedly.  

Ares jumps to his feet, roaring in anger. “You would demand compliance from a god-”

“Uh, I’m also a god,” Percy interrupts, rolling his eyes. “Moron,” he adds. 

“You brat-”  

Poseidon clears his throat, glaring Ares down, back into his seat. Then he turns to Percy, disapproving, but unwilling to fight his son anymore. “I am content with my number of children,” he replies to the unanswered question. “For the moment.” 

Percy smiles wide then, giving the entire council whiplash. “Great! Well, I’ll be watching.” He turns to Poseidon. “Anything else you need to do up here in this torture chamber?”

Poseidon’s eyes travel over Annabeth, and she shakes her head, surprised. Guess now that she’s a god, she gets a say. “No, we’ll take our leave.” 

And in a swirl of water, they vanish. 

-

When they return to Atlantis, Annabeth feels like she’s coming down from a high. She has gone from waking up as a goddess, to confronting the Olympians, to returning with Poseidon, who she doesn’t want to talk to, and Percy, who she simultaneously aches to speak with and not speak with for at least a week.

“I need some time,” she blurts out, preparing to leave again. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Percy look at her, stricken, and Poseidon does not look too happy either. 

Still, neither stops her. Well, at least not permanently. Poseidon catches her arm with his hand as she turns to go. “Do not leave the water, Annabeth,” he warns, and she nods. 

With a blink and a disconcerting sensation, she is breathing oxygen once more, sitting in the shallow waters at camp. For a moment it is just her and the gentle waves. Annabeth is no child of Apollo, nor is she truly a daughter of Poseidon, but she can see why poets dedicate entire anthologies to the sea. She wonders if her new status has made her more affectionate for the domain; she doesn’t remember wishing to wax poetic about the wind skimming the surface of the sea foam when she was mortal. 

“Annabeth!” 

She turns at the call of her name, smiling wide and getting to her feet when Jake bursts out of the trees. 

“Annabeth!” He shouts again, running toward her. “We’ve been waiting for you - or, er, Percy. I’m on watch; we knew you’d come back! Did Lord Poseidon heal you? Man, he’s the best!”

Annabeth opens her arms as Jake sloshes through the water before he launches himself forward, hugging her tightly. “Hi Jake. Um, he did. In a way.” 

Jake pulls back immediately. “Oh no, are you still hurt?” 

Annabeth shakes her head. “No. I was dying, so he made me a god.” 

Smiling up at her in shock and joy, Jake jumps up and down, splashing both of them up to their thighs.“Oh, that’s great! Athena’s cabin will definitely win capture the flag now!” 

Annabeth can’t help but laugh, reaching forward to ruffle his hair. She’s never experienced this, but she’s seen Poseidon do it to Percy. Jake continues to smile up at her, so she must be doing it right.  

Suddenly, his smile falls. “Is Percy alright?” He demands. “We haven’t seen him.”

With a nod, Annabeth sets his nerves at ease. “He’s a god too now,” she replies. Well, if camp is currently uninformed, they won’t be anymore. She doesn’t let herself think about their friends’ reactions; if she does, she’ll go crazy. No, better to deal with them later, once Percy and she are on the same page and can approach everyone together. 

“Oh! So you can be together forever,” Jake observes. Annabeth thinks he’s probably too young to see the negatives of their situation. Surprisingly, his optimism makes her feel warm.  

“Yes,” Annabeth agrees softly. There is that. There is always that. 

After a brief pause, wherein Annabeth tells Jake that she can’t leave the water for safety reasons and therefore can’t see any of the other campers, Jake pulls her to sit back in the surf with him. 

“Sooo… what can you do?” He asks, digging his hands through the sand beneath them. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean, you’re a goddess! A sea goddess, right? Can you make storms? Can you breathe underwater?” Jake continues with barely a breath. “Are your powers like Percy’s now?”

Annabeth shrugs. “I don’t know. Lord Poseidon said I was goddess of trenches, but it’s new. I haven’t had time to try anything out.” 

“Try something now!” He urges, and Annabeth can hardly deny Jake’s big blue eyes. She nods, turning back to the sea, and concentrates.

Nothing happens for a long moment. Then, out of some strange instinct, she tries calling for something. Anything. After a few minutes of silence, something breaks the surface tension of the water a little ways out.  

It’s a sea creature, to be sure. A shark almost the size of a blue whale. It flops up, then dips back below the surface. 

My lady, Annabeth hears in her mind, I am sorry. I cannot come closer; the waters are too shallow. You called? 

“Is he going to eat us?” Jake asks, clutching her arm. 

“No, he’s speaking to me.” Annabeth focuses. Yes, I wanted to say hello. I apologize if I frightened you; my powers are new to me, and I am trying to test their limits. 

The shark seems taken aback. I am your first communication with the deep? Annabeth replies in the affirmative. I am honored, my lady. My name is Trachum. If you need any assistance with your explorations, I would be happy to help, though you will have few limits if you seek deeper waters. I make my home in the Laurentian Abyss; it is north of here, and the closest depths to the City of Atlantis. When you have no fragile demigods with you, you should visit, Trachum offers, eying Jake from a distance. He would explode unless you or the Father offers him protection. Unless you seek his death? 

Annabeth shakes her head, deciding not to tell Jake of this part of the conversation. No need to make him feel like he needs to avoid all bodies of water. No, thank you, Trachum. My boyfriend Percy is a protector of demigods, and so am I. 

Trachum flips up to show his belly, and some new part of Annabeth knows this to be a sign of acquiescence. I will inform the others of yours and Lord Perseus' orders. No eating the demigods. 

Annabeth nearly laughs, but she manages to keep it together. That would be most appreciated, she responds gravely, though her lips twitch up. 

With a bow of his head, which is almost the size of a school bus, the shark disappears beneath the glittering waves. 

“What did he say?” Jake demands, tugging on her arm again. 

Annabeth opens her mouth to respond, but is interrupted by a familiar voice. 

“Jake, it is time to return to practice,” Chiron says, breaking through the tree line. “I need to speak with Annabeth.” 

Jake looks unhappy, but nods, smiling at Annabeth’s assurances that she will make time to visit camp soon. 

Chiron pats the boy’s shoulder as they pass each other, coming to stand next to Annabeth in the waters. She stays seated. “Chiron,” she greets, looking out at the sea. 

“Annabeth,” Chiron replies, watching her closely. “... Lady Annabeth.” She nods at the unasked question. “And Percy?” 

“God of the tides and fault lines,” she offers, “self-proclaimed protector of demigods.” She pauses. “And very, very angry with his father.” 

Chiron hums. “Poseidon made you the first offer, then.” 

“I was dying,” she explains, wondering what Will told Camp when he returned from their mission. She almost doesn’t want to know, because Percy had been there. She’s sure it was not pretty. “There was no offer of healing. Just this. I had to take it… I worry that Percy won’t forgive me for it.” 

“If you don’t mind me saying, that boy would forgive you the world, Annabeth,” Chiron says gently. “Well, Percy is angry at his father. And you?”

“What do you mean?”

“How do you feel about this?” 

“Glad I’m not standing in line for the ferry,” Annabeth responds glibly. 

“Annabeth…” 

She pulls dry hands out of the water to gesture wildly at the expansive domain in front of them. “What do you want me to say? I woke up a few hours ago to Percy and Poseidon not talking next to me, immediately got called to Olympus where I burned any hope of a bridge with my mom, and came here because I really can’t look at any sea gods right now.” She inhales. “I’m not sure what it means,” she adds, quieter now. “I’m a daughter of Athena, but she hates me. Poseidon made me a god, but not because he thought I was smart, or powerful, or gods, even beautiful. He made me this way because of Percy. And all the sea goddess stuff - it feels like Percy’s.” 

Chiron nods, thoughtful. “Can I pose a question to you?” Annabeth nods. “Why did Poseidon want to turn Percy into a god?”

“Because he loves him,” she replies easily. There is no creature on earth, the heavens, or the underworld that has seen father and son together that has not known immediately of the care that Poseidon has for his child. Well, except maybe the child in question. “Percy thinks it’s selfish, and it is, but it’s still love.” 

Chiron makes a noise in agreement before continuing. “So… not because Percy is smart, or clever, or good-looking.” 

Annabeth looks up at him, pressing her lips together at his knowing look. “I know what you’re trying to say, but Percy was still offered godhood as a prize for his deeds. Before all of this. Percy was already a god when I woke up, so he clearly took to it better.” She pauses. “Ergo, some people are clearly meant to be gods.” 

Chiron is quiet for a moment, then: “What do you know about Dionysus’ wife?” 

Annabeth raises an eyebrow. “Ariadne? She was spurned by a hero, Thesus, and left behind on an island after he promised to marry her for the help she gave him in defeating the Minotaur. She met Dionysus, he fell in love with her, and he made her a goddess.” 

Chiron nods, ever the teacher. “Lady Ariadne is the goddess of puzzles and labyrinths,” he elaborates. Annabeth knows this, but she doesn’t interrupt. “A small domain, to be sure, but I’m told she keeps quite busy. She is well-loved on Olympus, and very well-loved by her husband.” He looks at her. “I heard that you were assigned a domain.” 

“Trenches. Deep ocean,” Annabeth confirms. 

“There are gods without domains, as you know. Clearly, Lord Poseidon thought you worthy.” 

Annabeth says nothing, but she thinks back to Poseidon’s words on Olympus. Annabeth Chase is a hero as well. Is there anyone here who would deny that she is deserving? Mere words to cover up his manipulations? Perhaps. Worthiness is an important concept for the gods. Even if Poseidon is lying about her own, Annabeth realizes in a rush, none of the gods spoke out against his declaration. Even her mother, who pretty much disowned her, kept silent on the question of her worthiness. 

Chiron watches her; his wisdom after centuries is deep, and he has known Annabeth longer than he knows most heroes. He might not know her mind, but he knows what she looks like deep in thought. “Ariadne was the daughter of Minos,” he continues, “and she became immortal with the power of Dionysus. Most on Olympus, however, know her merely as Lady Ariadne. Especially given the long absence of her husband. Perhaps the mortals know her as Dionysus’ wife. And she is that. But that is not all she is.” He pauses. “You are not merely Percy Jackson’s intended. Nor are you only a daughter of Athena or Poseidon. You are Annabeth. That is enough.” 

Something in Annabeth releases, and she knows she made the right decision confiding in Chiron. With a grateful look, Annabeth stands. “Thank you, Chiron.” She walks deeper in the water, ready to talk to her boyfriend. “I’ll return soon and bring Percy.” With a swan dive, she is gone. 

From the tree line, Dionysus rolls his eyes. 

“She seems like a sweetheart, husband. I wish to meet her,” his wife says, smiling, from his arms. 

“Well, my love, Chase and Johnson are part of the pantheon now. I’ll be seeing them more than I ever wanted to.” He looks down at his wife’s pleading gaze and immediately folds. “Alright. I’ll introduce you.” 

-

Annabeth takes the long way back to Atlantis, swimming amongst sea creatures who watch her with awe and happily provide directions. Soon, she is joined by several merpeople: guards, based on their armor and general wariness. Still, they answer her questions about Atlantis with ease and respect, telling her about the coronation rumors that are already circling. Apparently, having a new Prince and Princess of the sea is a big deal. 

She speaks with them until they reach the city, where her eyes alight in relief on Sao, one of Amphitrite’s eldest sisters, who has spent time with Annabeth prior to godhood and loves Percy with all her heart. She swims forward and into the Nereid’s arms, hugging her tightly, burying her face in Sao’s silky, dark green hair. “It’s good to see you,” she breathes. 

Sao embraces her back, waving away the guards. 

“My lady,” one of them says, cautious, “the King…”

“You may follow at a distance,” Sao interrupts, “and wait outside our destination.” The merpeople bow their heads in agreement. Sao draws out of the hug, taking Annabeth’s hand and tugging her along. With her tail, she is much more smooth in the water than Annabeth. “I know we have much to speak about,” she says quietly. “But Percy is waiting in my library for you. Do you wish to speak with him?” 

Annabeth nods. “More than anything,” she says emphatically. 

With a smile, Sao squeezes Annabeth’s hand. “I’m glad. He is most anxious.” Then, she turns serious. “I am aware of the tension between Percy and my brother-in-law. Amphitrite is keeping him away for now. She says he has agreed to give Percy time.” 

Annabeth inhales sharply. “He… what?” Poseidon is not known for his patience. In fact, quite the opposite.

Sao comes to a stop outside a beautiful building, large and well-decorated with live coral and marble, many mer entering and exiting from two large, bronze-encrusted doors. “You slept through it,” she says. “The argument between them was… heated. The entire city shook with their fury, and the above world itself did not escape unscathed. And after… My sister says that Percy would not even look at his father. I’m afraid that none of this is over.” 

Worried where this might be going, Annabeth crosses her arms over her chest. “I will not ask him to forgive his dad,” she says firmly. “I can’t ask him to be less than he is.” 

With a nod, Sao grasps both of Annabeth’s hands. “You are good for him,” she says gently. “Go. He’s on the top floor; it is my home. The door will let you in. I’ll wait here with your guards.” 

Annabeth goes, smiling politely at the many mer that offer her bows as she makes her way through the library. When she reaches the top floor, she takes a deep breath, then turns the door knob. 

And there is Percy, her Percy, swimming back and forth anxiously, though his gaze darts up to meet hers as soon as she opens the door. 

“Wise Girl,” he greets in relief, though he does not swim forward. 

“Seaweed Brain,” she automatically responds, before her eyes lock with his, “Do you hate me?” she blurts out. They’ve never eased into things; why start now? 

Percy’s mouth drops open in shock, then, after a brief pause, he laughs aloud. 

Crossing her arms over her chest, Annabeth leans back to shut the door. No need to announce their situation to the whole of Atlantis. “What?!” She hisses. 

Percy holds up his hands, shrugging. “Nothing,” he promises. “And the answer is no. A definite, absolute, of course not.” He pauses, turning his green, baby seal eyes on her. “Do you hate me?” 

Now it’s Annabeth’s mouth’s turn to drop open. “No! What have you done? I was the one who agreed to become a god knowing that you would follow me!” 

“And I was the one whose psychotic dad planned for you to become a god knowing that I would follow you!” Percy argues, moving closer. “You definitely didn’t sign up for that.” 

Annabeth softens. “Percy, I love you. I would love you if you had ten psychotic dads.” She stops, swimming forward to meet him in the middle. “You’re really not mad?”

“Not at you,” Percy murmurs, cold and comforting at the same time, as she throws her arms around his neck. She knows the coldness is not for her, and she buries her face in the space between his neck and shoulder. He strokes her hair gently, and she finally allows herself to breathe in his arms. “I love you too,” he adds.

They hang there for a moment, taking each other in, happy to be alone for the first time in days. “What are we going to do?” She murmurs, breaking the quiet. They need to make a plan.

Percy holds her tighter. “It seems to me,” he replies, slow and steady, “that after the shit the gods have pulled on us, we can do whatever we want.” 

Annabeth lets out a watery chuckle. “I’m pretty sure that’s not going to fly with your dad, Percy.” 

Percy goes still, pulling back. He cups her face in his hands, and she reaches up to grasp his wrists. They stare at each other for a long moment, when he finally sighs. “I don’t want to talk about my dad right now.” Annabeth opens her mouth. “We will,” he says hurriedly, and her mouth snaps shut, “and soon. But Amphitrite and Sao have some plans, and I think we should let them do their thing. For now, I just want you to be okay. You are all that matters.” 

Annabeth nods, and she can’t help the way her nails dig into his shoulder. It’s not like it’ll hurt him, after everything. Feeling him, knowing he is with her, is the only thing that feels right at the moment. Feels safe. “I thought I was going to die,” she whispers, blinking furiously. 

Percy makes a low, pained sound deep in his throat. “I thought I was never going to see you again,” he says back, tipping his forehead against hers. 

More of her feelings spill out with ease. For Percy, after everything, it’s more simple than a younger, closed off version of herself could’ve ever predicted. “For some reason, I thought everything terrible we experienced as demigods would go away,” she admits. “But when I woke up, it was still there.” She breathes in shakily. “Do you think everything we’ve lost will be with us for eternity? All the deaths? Tartarus?” She barely speaks the final word, but Percy is close enough to hear it. 

“I don’t know,” Percy admits. “But we’re together. No one's gonna take you away from me.” 

“No one,” Annabeth swears back. 

Percy smiles then, kissing her gently. When he pulls back, he twirls her braids around his fingers, holding her close. “Maybe it’s stupid,” he murmurs, “but I have hope.” 

Annabeth shakes her head against his hold, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Hope is never stupid, Seaweed Brain.” She pauses. “So, the tides, huh?” 

“And fault lines,” he adds impishly. “So, the trenches?” He shoots back at her. 

Tugging on his hair to press a kiss to his other cheek, Annabeth giggles. “I think I met the Megalodon earlier,” she admits, not a little taunting. “I can introduce you.”  

Percy gasps. “Damn, if my dad and I were on speaking terms, I’d ask him for a refund.” He pauses. “Um, before we go out, there’s something you should know.” 

“Yes?” 

Percy rubs the back of his head, looking away from her. “Remember when I said I was going to propose to you eventually?” 

Annabeth just looks at him suspiciously. That comment had surprised her, especially given that he said it in front of the full panel of Olympians before ever saying it to her. She’s been planning to give him a hard time about it, but not yet. Not while they’re in this level of crisis mode. “...Yes?” She repeats, slower. 

“So, um, in Atlantis, we’re kind of already, uh, engaged.” Percy spits the last word out like he’s allergic to it, holding out his hands like he’s expecting her to attack him. 

She may or may not consider it. 

“What?” She says dangerously. 

Percy only shrugs sheepishly. “Uh, surprise?” 

-

A few weeks after their trip to Olympus, Poseidon calls for Annabeth. With a soft kiss, she leaves Percy to spar with his brother and makes her way to the throne room. 

Percy has not spoken to his father since Olympus. With the help of Annabeth and Amphitrite as intermediaries, Poseidon has offered his son and future daughter-in-law a palace in the outer city of Ampheres. Percy, with her encouragement, has accepted, and though both new gods can frequently be found in the main palace, both now have an alternate place of their own to call home. Percy needs space from his father, but it’s still close enough for Poseidon to reach them easily if a problem arises. Annabeth knows he still is uncertain about all the Olympians’ views on the new gods. 

Annabeth holds her head high as she swims through the hallways of the Grand Palace, which she has already begun plans to remodel. Atlantis has not fully recovered from Oceanus’ attack several years ago, and she knows she can better the entire city. Everyone bows their head as she passes; it’s uncomfortable for her, but she’s not like Percy. She can respect the hierarchy and traditions of the Atlanteans. Even if Percy and she plan to do differently in their own home

Poseidon is not in his throne when she is announced; instead, he is seated at a table off to the side with several of his generals speaking over some papers. When she enters, he waves her over. 

“Annabeth,” he greets. “You have met Delphin and Palaemon?” 

Annabeth nods, coming to a stop at the foot of the table. “I have.” 

Delphin gives her a faint smile. At least, she thinks that’s what he’s doing. He is a dolphin after all. “Lady Annabeth has approached us about improving the state of the barracks,” he explains to Poseidon. “Lord Percy came as well to see our operations.” He turns to Annabeth, bowing low. “Congratulations, by the way, on your engagement.” 

“Thank you,” Annabeth responds politely. It’s a refrain she has been hearing quite frequently over the past few weeks, and she has learned to change the subject quickly, or else her conversation partner begins to speak about wedding plans. Percy and she, of course, plan for a long engagement. “You called for me?” She asks Poseidon, who is watching her with an unreadable look on his face. “Is there a problem?” She adds, trying to see the contents of the table. 

With a wave of his hand, Poseidon disappears the papers, ignoring Annabeth’s curiosity. “Merely precautions.” He turns to the generals. “You may go.” 

After they leave, he turns back to Annabeth. After a momentary pause, he holds out a hand. “Come. There is something you should see.” 

She takes his hand, and in the next instant, they are somewhere in the ocean, floating in the water, which seems to flow in every direction as far as the eye can see. Annabeth is unfamiliar with her surroundings, but of course, she would say that about most places in the ocean at this point. She knows that she could rattle off the coordinates of their location, knows they’re somewhere in the Pacific Ocean, but it doesn’t really narrow it down. “Where are we?” She asks finally. 

Poseidon is watching her reason through all of this, and she can tell he’s just a little bit smug. “How do you feel?” 

“At home,” she answers immediately. Because it’s true. She feels peaceful here. Powerful. 

“We are in your domain,” Poseidon clarifies. “Deep in what the mortals have named the Mariana Trench.” 

Annabeth looks around. “But I can see!” She protests. There should be no sunlight that reaches this far down, yet she can see everything with crisp clarity. 

Poseidon chuckles. “The absence of Apollo does not matter to us. You can be in the deepest part of the ocean and see perfectly.” Then, he turns serious. “You are Atlantis’ greatest weakness,” he adds, quite abruptly. 

Abrupt enough that Annabeth is startled. “Excuse me?” She wonders if she misheard. 

Poseidon just looks at her. Apparently not. “Perseus is strong,” he explains stiffly, yet she can still hear faint admiration for his favorite child in his tone. “Many of the powers he exhibits as a god are merely extensions of his demigod abilities, which he has used well for many years. For you, however, everything is new. If an enemy seeks to harm Percy, they will come for you.” With a short pause, he summons two weapons to his hands. The first is easily recognizable: his trident. The second is a fishing spear, three pronged like the trident, but smaller with a more square like structure. It is clearly a well-made weapon, created from celestial bronze. He tosses it to Annabeth, who catches it easily. “So I will train you.” 

“Thank you,” Annabeth says, admiring the spear, “but Triton is helping Percy. He can help me as-” she stops. Thinks. Then, she looks away because she knows that cannot help the pity that shows in her eyes. 

Poseidon clears his throat. “These are the consequences of my actions,” he says, but the words do not come out as understanding, like they would in a normal person with normal morals and normal regrets. Instead, Annabeth feels the roiling of the sea in her gut, feels tiny even as a goddess as she floats in the depths with the Sea God. Poseidon is not content, and he seems determined to make it everyone's problem, from the coastlines to the fishermen above. “It may take many years for Percy to forgive me,” he adds. “It is not in my nature, but for my son, I will wait.” 

Annabeth nods. Percy is not emotional about Poseidon, not openly. Usually, his anger is felt, much like his father’s. But the cold fury he is now exhibiting… Annabeth has only seen that twice. First, with Akhlys, as he had taunted her with her own poison. Second, now, with Poseidon, after Annabeth had awoken to find them both at her bedside. Annabeth knows that Percy would never harm his father, that he even now yearns for his love and approval, but in that moment, she had wondered. 

In the weeks following their ascension, she has been proved right. Mostly. Percy would never hurt his father physically, but he is smart enough to take away what Poseidon wants the most: time with his son. And he has done it with no regrets. 

Triton has pitched his father’s case to Percy already. Even Amphitrite has given Percy sad looks. But Annabeth refuses to get involved. She will not intercede on Poseidon’s behalf, not against Percy, to whom she owes her primary love and loyalty. If that makes that he will face consequences for his manipulations, and make everyone interacting with his domain suffer along with him, so be it. 

Luckily enough, at least for now, Poseidon seems to understand this to a certain extent. The sea is not patient, so Annabeth is not sure how long it will last. She knows she will be the one to stand between Percy and Poseidon’s inevitable manipulations, so she hopes it’s not too soon. She still has a lot of learning to do. 

“If I cannot help my son hone his powers, I will do the next best thing.” Poseidon gives her an appraising look. “Now, what have you discovered so far?” 

So Annabeth shows him. She calls the creatures of the deep, sea monsters swirling around her, creatures that humans can only theorize about approaching her and Poseidon with bows. She draws the depths up and around her, shielding them in waters so dark that not even a god could peer through. She closes her eyes, tells him the locations of submarines and probes across the earth with little issue. 

Poseidon is not a good teacher by any measure, but he does his best to guide her, teaching her to shield precious sea creatures from the mortals and help shipwrecks land in optimal places for marine growth. It helps that Annabeth is an excellent pupil; he does not have to repeat himself or oversimplify concepts. The part of her that remains her mother’s takes in information greedily. The part that is Poseidon’s feels herself in each fish and worm and sea cucumber that flourishes in the trenches. And the largest part, the part that is Annabeth as she has always been, is filled with boundless curiosity, builds beautiful structures out of deep-sea corals. With wide eyes, she realizes that she can do what she has always wanted to do for her own domain, for the fish and sharks that already eagerly approach her, calling her my lady and princess, complaining politely about trash and submarines and offering, much to Poseidon’s amusement and approval, to kill her enemies. 

As Annabeth greets her new responsibilities, still ultimately Poseidon’s subjects, wielding more power than the fates ever intended, smiling and furiously questioning each secret of the trenches that he shows to her, Poseidon feels a small stab of pride. Annabeth is a good addition to the seas, and she has brought his son with her. 

At the same time, he feels the tide rise, can sense Percy’s laughter and Artemis’ joy as they engage in a dance of equals of which Poseidon and Artemis have known the steps for centuries. It’s a little different, more playful and young, and Poseidon watches over his niece and son at the surface of his kingdom as he watches over Annabeth in the abyss. 

Poseidon has everything he wanted. And yet, watching Percy spend time with nearly every member of his family but his own father, he does something that is deeply foreign to gods, which is not foreign at all to Poseidon in particular. Not since he snuck to the surface nearly twenty years ago, hovering over a crib, green meeting familiar green. 

So Poseidon, God of the Seas, Earthshaker, one of the most powerful beings in existence, closes his eyes. Becomes his domain. Feels his son. 

And yearns. 

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.