Chapter Text
Chapter 1
Percy Jackson stood at the edge of the beach, where the waves kissed the shore, the horizon stretching endlessly before him. The setting sun painted the sky in hues of orange and pink, but the beauty of the scene was wasted on him. His chest felt tight, his breaths shallow and uneven, each one a laborious task, as if the weight of the ocean pressed down on him. His fingers trembled at his sides, half-buried in the cool sand.
Why can’t I be better than this? The thought clawed at his mind, relentless. The smallest sound—the crash of a distant wave or the caw of a seagull overhead—made him flinch, setting his teeth on edge. His body, still locked in survival mode, struggled to believe the fight was over. But deep down, Percy knew it wasn’t. The battles inside him were still raging.
Tartarus had left its mark in more ways than one. The physical injuries had healed, but the memories clung to him like shadows. He could still smell the toxic stench of death, feel the suffocating weight of the pit pressing in on him, and hear the eerie, bone-chilling whispers of monsters that were never truly gone. At night, he dreamed of being trapped there again—of the endless descent, Annabeth’s screams fading behind him as darkness swallowed them whole.
I shouldn’t have survived.
He sank to his knees, the sand cool beneath him, though his skin burned with shame. It didn’t make sense—he’d been the hero, the one who saved everyone. He had dragged himself and Annabeth out of Tartarus, survived trials no mortal should have endured, and yet here he was, breaking down under the weight of it all.
But it wasn’t just the nightmares that haunted him.
Annabeth’s face surfaced in his mind, her gray eyes filled with something he hadn’t seen before—fear. Not fear of the monsters they had faced or the gods who could end them with a thought. It had been fear of him .
“I don’t know who you are anymore, Percy.” Her voice rang in his ears, each word a knife carving into him. “Sometimes, I don’t think you know either.”
When she left, it hadn’t been a screaming match or an explosive argument. She had simply pulled away, the distance between them growing until it became unbearable. And when she finally told him it was over, Percy had nodded, too numb to fight for something he thought he didn’t deserve.
“I don’t blame you,” he had said. “It’s my fault.”
Because wasn’t it? He was the one who had wielded Akhlys’ poison, the one who had let it course through him like a weapon of destruction. He had felt the power, the cold, deadly satisfaction of it, and he couldn’t shake the thought that Annabeth had seen him differently ever since.
She should be afraid of me, Percy thought bitterly. I’m a monster.
The sea breeze whipped past him, salt stinging his eyes, though it was hard to tell if the burning was from the wind or the tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. He scrubbed a hand over his face, his breathing hitching as he fought to keep himself together. He had cried enough, hadn’t he? Heroes weren’t supposed to fall apart like this. Heroes weren’t supposed to—
His thoughts spiraled, racing back to the weight of prophecy, the inevitability of death. He had spent most of his teenage years believing he wouldn’t live long enough to think about things like a future, college, or a family. Every quest had been another reminder that he was disposable, just a pawn in the gods’ games. And even now, with the prophecy behind him, he couldn’t imagine a life beyond survival.
What’s the point of surviving when you don’t know how to live? The thought hit him like a tidal wave, and his body trembled under the force of it. His breath came in shallow gasps, and he gripped the sand beneath him as if it could anchor him to reality.
He thought of his mom, of Gabe’s cruel laughter echoing through their tiny apartment. He thought of how he had spent years watching his mom endure something she didn’t deserve, and how he had vowed never to let anyone control him like that. But hadn’t he done the same with Annabeth? Hadn’t he let himself become so dependent on her approval that he believed he was nothing without it?
His heart raced, the pressure in his chest unbearable. His vision blurred, and the world seemed to tilt as darkness crept in at the edges of his sight. His legs buckled, and he sank forward, the sand shifting beneath him as he struggled to stay upright.
“I can’t do this,” he whispered, the words barely audible over the sound of the waves. “I can’t—”
Before he could hit the ground, strong arms caught him, pulling him against a solid chest. The scent of saltwater and storms surrounded him, and Percy didn’t need to open his eyes to know who it was.
“Easy,” Poseidon murmured, his voice steady and warm. “I’ve got you.”
Percy clung to him, his fingers curling into his father’s tunic as if letting go would shatter him completely. His body trembled, and his breathing came in ragged gasps, but Poseidon held him firmly, anchoring him like the ocean anchors the shore.
“Dad?” His voice cracked, barely audible.
“I’m here,” Poseidon said, his voice filled with a tenderness Percy wasn’t used to but desperately needed. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”
The words hit something deep inside Percy, and he felt himself break. The tears he had been holding back came in waves, each sob wracking his body as years of fear, pain, and hopelessness poured out of him. Poseidon didn’t speak—he simply held him, his hand gently stroking Percy’s back in soothing circles.
For the first time in a long time, Percy didn’t try to hold himself together. He let the weight of it all crush him, let the tears fall freely as he sobbed into his father’s chest. He had spent so long being strong for everyone else, but here, in his father’s arms, he didn’t have to be.
When the tears finally subsided, Poseidon leaned back slightly, his hand still resting on Percy’s shoulder. “You’ve carried this burden for too long,” he said softly. “Let me help you carry it now.”
Percy sniffled, wiping at his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt. “I don’t know how to let go.”
“You don’t have to figure it out alone,” Poseidon replied. “You have me. You have family.”
Family. The word felt foreign to Percy, but the warmth in Poseidon’s eyes made it seem less distant. For so long, family had been something he associated with struggle and survival, but maybe, just maybe, it could be something more.
Poseidon squeezed his shoulder gently. “Let’s get you home. To Atlantis.”
Percy nodded, too drained to argue. As his father helped him to his feet, the waves lapped gently at their ankles, as if welcoming him back. For the first time in what felt like forever, Percy let someone else carry him.
And for the first time, he didn’t feel like he had to be strong.
————————————————————————
Percy woke to the distant hum of water, the gentle sway of the currents lulling him into consciousness. His eyelids fluttered open, revealing the soft glow of bioluminescent coral painting the walls of the room in shades of blue and green. The faint sound of fish darting by the windows reminded him that he wasn’t on land anymore.
For a moment, he panicked, his mind flashing back to Tartarus—walls of darkness pressing in, shadows moving just beyond his vision. But the glow of the coral was gentle, not suffocating, and the warmth of the thick blankets covering him grounded him. He wasn’t falling. He wasn’t trapped.
He blinked blearily, shifting under the blankets, and the blurry figure sitting beside him sharpened into focus.
Poseidon.
The god’s sea-green eyes softened as Percy stirred, and a warm hand brushed over his forehead, as though checking for fever. “Good. You’re awake.”
Percy swallowed, his throat dry. “Where am I?”
“Atlantis,” Poseidon said gently. “You collapsed. I brought you here to rest.”
Atlantis. The name drifted through Percy’s mind like a half-forgotten dream. His gaze flicked to the large window that overlooked the ocean floor, where glowing fish swam lazily past coral formations. The room felt quiet and safe, but the knot in his chest tightened.
“I’m fine,” Percy muttered automatically, the lie tasting bitter on his tongue. His fingers twisted into the blanket. “I—I can go back to camp.”
Poseidon’s lips pressed into a thin line, and he shook his head. “You’re not fine, Percy. You haven’t been fine for a long time.”
Percy flinched, but Poseidon’s hand didn’t leave his forehead. Instead, he gently guided Percy’s gaze back to him. “You’ve been carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders, and I let it happen.”
The admission lingered in the air, and Percy shook his head weakly. “It’s not your fault.”
Poseidon exhaled slowly, his eyes darkening like a storm brewing beneath the surface. “I wanted to help you. You have no idea how much it hurt to watch you suffer, knowing I couldn’t step in. The Fates bound me, Percy. As long as you were tied to prophecy, my hands were tied too.”
The words hit Percy harder than he expected. He had spent so long believing that his suffering was simply a part of the job—that gods didn’t care enough to intervene, and that even Poseidon, his father, had chosen not to help. But now, hearing the regret in Poseidon’s voice, Percy’s carefully built walls began to crack.
“You couldn’t have done anything,” Percy whispered. “I get it. I was supposed to be the hero.”
Poseidon’s expression softened, but there was something fierce in his eyes—an intensity Percy wasn’t used to. “No. You were supposed to be my son. But I let the world demand more of you than any child should have to give.”
Percy’s breath hitched, and he turned his face away, the guilt pressing down on him again. “I let them down anyway. Annabeth, the camp—they’re better off without me.”
Poseidon’s hand tightened gently on his shoulder. “That’s not true.”
Percy laughed bitterly. “Annabeth left. She said I wasn’t the same person anymore, and she’s right. I don’t even know who I am.”
Poseidon’s fingers brushed the hair away from Percy’s forehead, a small, fatherly gesture that made Percy’s throat tighten. “You’re my son,” Poseidon said softly. “That’s who you are. And you don’t have to know everything right now. You’ve been fighting for so long, Percy. You’ve done more than enough.”
“I don’t know how to stop,” Percy admitted, his voice breaking. “I don’t know how to just… be.”
Poseidon leaned in, wrapping an arm around Percy’s shoulders. The embrace was firm, protective, and warm in a way that made Percy’s tears spill over. His father’s heartbeat thudded steadily beneath his ear, a quiet reminder that for once, someone else was holding him up.
“You don’t have to fight here,” Poseidon whispered. “Let me take that burden from you.”
The weight of the words sank into Percy’s chest, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he let himself believe them. His fingers tightened around Poseidon’s tunic as he sobbed quietly into his father’s chest.
When the tears subsided, Poseidon leaned back slightly, his hand still resting on Percy’s shoulder. “You’ve carried this burden for too long,” he said softly. “Let me help you carry it now.”
Percy sniffled, wiping at his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt. “I don’t know how to let go.”
“You don’t have to figure it out alone,” Poseidon replied. “You have me. You have family.”
The word family felt foreign to Percy, but the warmth in Poseidon’s gaze made it seem less distant. For so long, family had been something he associated with survival and pain, but maybe, just maybe, it could be something more.
Poseidon smiled gently. “Atlantis is your home now. No monsters, no quests—just peace. You can take as much time as you need.”
Percy nodded, his body still trembling slightly. “So… what am I supposed to do here?”
“Whatever you want,” Poseidon said. “Sleep, swim with dolphins, explore the coral caverns—there’s no schedule or expectation.”
The thought of having that kind of freedom felt surreal. “That’s it? I can just… do nothing?”
Poseidon chuckled softly. “If that’s what you need, yes. But eventually, we’ll want to introduce you to the people of Atlantis properly.”
Percy’s stomach dropped. “Like… a public thing?”
“Nothing too grand,” Poseidon said, though there was a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. “But as my son, you’re important to them. I’d like to have a coronation—an official ceremony to welcome you as the Prince of Atlantis.”
Percy’s eyes widened. “A prince? I’m not cut out for that.”
“You’re my son,” Poseidon said firmly. “That’s enough. Being a prince here doesn’t mean ruling or making decisions. It’s about the people knowing that you’re part of this family, that you belong.”
Percy fidgeted with the edge of the blanket. “I don’t really feel like I belong anywhere.”
“You will,” Poseidon said, his voice filled with quiet conviction. “We’ll make sure of it.”
The words settled in Percy’s heart, a spark of warmth fighting against the cold he had lived with for so long. For the first time in what felt like forever, he allowed himself to hope—just a little.
————————————————————————
The dining room in Poseidon’s palace was grand, with walls of shimmering coral and a long table carved from polished sea glass. Bioluminescent orbs floated gently near the ceiling, casting soft, rippling light over the spread of fresh seafood, fruits, and bread laid before them.
Percy sat near the head of the table, closer to Poseidon than he normally would have felt comfortable with. He wasn’t sure what had drawn him to sit there—maybe it was instinct. The moment he had entered the room, his legs had carried him toward his father, the one presence in Atlantis that made him feel tethered. He couldn’t shake the sense that if he sat too far away, something might happen. The crushing weight of uncertainty, the nightmares lingering just beneath the surface, whispered that Poseidon was the only thing keeping him from drowning.
He didn’t even notice how tightly he was gripping his fork until Poseidon’s hand gently brushed over his. “Relax,” his father said softly. “You’re safe.”
Safe. The word was both soothing and terrifying. It was everything Percy had craved but also something he didn’t quite know how to trust. Still, he nodded and eased his grip, letting out a slow breath as he focused on the warm bread on his plate. The scent of freshly baked seaweed rolls filled the room, but even that comforting smell couldn’t fully push away the heaviness pressing on his chest.
To his right, Triton leaned back lazily in his chair, his trident resting against the wall behind him. His gaze flicked to Percy periodically, his expression cool and unimpressed, as though he were silently assessing whether Percy was worthy of being here. Percy could feel it, that quiet judgment hovering over him, but he didn’t have the energy to care. Not right now.
Amphitrite sat across from him, regal and poised, her hands delicately folded around a porcelain teacup. She observed him quietly, as if weighing something in her mind.
“Have you had a chance to explore the palace yet?” she asked, her voice smooth and polite.
Percy shifted in his seat, his fingers brushing the edge of his plate. “A little,” he replied, trying not to fidget under her gaze. “It’s, uh, really beautiful.”
She nodded, taking a small sip of her tea. “Atlantis holds many wonders. It’s a place of history and legend, much like you, Percy.”
He blinked, unsure how to respond. His mind was still hazy, flashes of Tartarus creeping in at the edges of his vision. He could hear the distant echoes of monsters in his head, feel the cold grip of the darkness trying to pull him under. His breathing hitched, and his eyes darted toward Poseidon, who was already watching him closely.
“You’re okay,” Poseidon murmured, his voice low enough that only Percy could hear. The reassurance steadied him, and he inhaled deeply, grounding himself in the present.
Amphitrite’s voice pulled him back fully. “Your exploits are well-known here,” she continued, setting her cup down gently. “Slaying Medusa, outsmarting the gods, holding up the sky, journeying through Tartarus.” Her gaze didn’t waver as she listed each accomplishment. “You’ve done more in a few years than most heroes do in their entire lives.”
Triton snorted, but he didn’t say anything. Percy felt his stomach twist at the sound. He glanced down at his plate, suddenly not hungry.
“I guess,” he said softly.
“You guess?” Amphitrite raised a brow, her tone light but probing. “Surely you take some pride in what you’ve achieved.”
Percy shifted uncomfortably, setting his fork down. “I mean, I’m glad I was able to help people. But a lot of those things… they weren’t exactly fun.”
Amphitrite leaned back slightly, studying him. “Most demigods would be eager to boast about such feats.”
Percy shrugged, his gaze dropping to his plate. “I don’t see the point in bragging. People died on those quests. And I wouldn’t have made it through without help.” He hesitated before adding softly, “Sometimes I wish I hadn’t had to do any of it.”
The admission lingered in the air, heavy but honest. Triton shifted, as if the vulnerability made him uncomfortable. Amphitrite, however, leaned forward and gently placed a piece of fruit on Percy’s plate.
“You’re different,” she said quietly. “Many demigods seek glory. But you—you seek peace.”
Percy’s breath hitched slightly, and he looked up at her, unsure what to say. Before he could speak, Poseidon’s hand rested gently on his shoulder.
“I believe Percy’s actions speak for themselves,” Poseidon said, his voice calm but firm.
Triton muttered something under his breath, but Amphitrite ignored him, her gaze still soft on Percy. “Indeed they do.”
For a moment, the tension eased, and Percy felt the warmth of Poseidon’s hand steady him. He picked up a piece of bread and took a small bite, though the knot in his stomach hadn’t fully untangled. He wasn’t sure it ever would.
Poseidon leaned toward him slightly, his voice low and reassuring. “You don’t have to prove anything to them, Percy. Just be yourself.”
Percy swallowed the lump in his throat. “I don’t know who that is anymore.”
Poseidon’s eyes softened, and he gave Percy’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “You’ll figure it out. You have time.”
The word time echoed in Percy’s mind. It wasn’t something he had ever thought he’d have. Prophecies had dictated his life for so long that he had resigned himself to the idea of dying young. The thought of having time—real time—felt as foreign as the palace around him.
Poseidon must have sensed his unease, because he leaned back and changed the subject. “Today, we’ll take it slow. Maybe we can explore the coral gardens later, or you can rest if you’d prefer.”
Percy nodded slowly, grateful for the offer but unsure of what he wanted. Rest sounded good, but he wasn’t sure he knew how to rest anymore.
“You can sit with me for as long as you want,” Poseidon added, his voice warm. “You don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.”
The knot in Percy’s chest loosened just a little, and he found himself leaning slightly toward Poseidon, as if his father’s presence could shield him from the overwhelming weight of everything.
For now, it was enough.
————————————————————————
The sunken garden of Poseidon’s palace stretched out like an underwater paradise, glowing coral formations swaying gently in the currents, and shimmering anemones casting soft light along the stone pathways. Percy’s footsteps were light against the coral-encrusted floor as he wandered aimlessly, trying to shake the lingering tension from breakfast.
He wasn’t sure why he had come here—Poseidon had suggested resting, but Percy had found himself wandering instead, drawn by the promise of quiet. The gardens were peaceful, and for a moment, he thought the silence might calm the storm inside him.
It’s fine, he told himself. I’m fine.
But he wasn’t. The panic that had gripped him at breakfast still lingered in the back of his mind, like a shadow he couldn’t outrun. His hand drifted to his chest, where he could still feel the ghost of Poseidon’s comforting touch. He wished his dad had come with him, but he didn’t want to seem like a child who couldn’t go anywhere alone.
As he passed a large cluster of glowing seaweed, the sound of splashing reached his ears. He turned toward the sacred dolphin pool, his steps quickening as he realized something was wrong. The dolphins, which normally glided gracefully through the water, were circling in agitation. One of them—a silvery creature named Delphinia—thrashed wildly, tangled in a thick net of seaweed that had been swept into the pool by a recent current.
Without thinking, Percy dove into the water.
The cool rush of the ocean enveloped him, and for a moment, it was soothing—until Delphinia’s panicked movements reminded him why he was there. The dolphin’s eyes were wide with fear, and she let out high-pitched clicks that echoed through the water.
“It’s okay,” Percy murmured, his voice soft as he swam closer. “I’m going to help you.”
He carefully grabbed the strands of seaweed, wincing as the sharp fronds sliced into his arms. The saltwater stung the shallow cuts, but he ignored the pain, focusing instead on freeing Delphinia. She flinched at first, but as he gently unwound the seaweed from her fins, she seemed to calm under his touch.
“That’s it,” Percy whispered, his fingers working quickly despite the sting of the cuts. “Almost done.”
By the time he freed her, his arms were crisscrossed with small, bleeding cuts, but Delphinia swam off with a grateful chirp, circling him once before disappearing into the deeper part of the pool. Percy exhaled, floating for a moment as the adrenaline ebbed and the sting of his injuries became more noticeable.
He considered staying underwater, where the world was quieter and his thoughts didn’t feel as overwhelming. But the ache in his arms reminded him that he couldn’t stay hidden forever. Reluctantly, he surfaced and swam to the edge of the pool, pulling himself out onto the smooth stone floor.
Amphitrite was waiting.
Her gaze was sharp, but there was no mistaking the concern behind it as her eyes flicked to his bleeding arms. “You’re hurt.”
Percy glanced down, as if only just noticing the thin lines of blood mixing with the saltwater. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”
“You’re bleeding,” she said again, stepping closer. “You shouldn’t ignore it.”
“I’m fine,” Percy repeated, his voice firmer this time. He tried to push himself to his feet, but the dizziness from the sudden adrenaline drop made him stumble. Amphitrite’s hand was under his elbow before he could fall, steadying him.
“Sit,” she said gently, guiding him to a nearby bench. He didn’t have the energy to argue, so he sat, his shoulders slumping.
Amphitrite knelt beside him, her movements graceful as she pulled a small cloth from her belt and began dabbing at his cuts. The sting made him wince, but he didn’t pull away.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she said softly. “Delphinia would have been fine. Someone would have helped her.”
Percy shook his head. “I couldn’t just leave her.”
Amphitrite paused, her eyes searching his face. “Why do you always put others first, even when you’re the one who’s hurting?”
The question caught him off guard, and for a moment, he didn’t know how to answer. “Because that’s what heroes do,” he said finally, though the words felt hollow.
Amphitrite’s gaze softened, and she resumed cleaning his cuts, her touch gentle but precise. “Heroes are allowed to take care of themselves too, Percy.”
He didn’t respond. He didn’t know how to. The idea of putting himself first felt foreign, almost selfish. He had spent so long believing that his worth came from protecting others that he didn’t know how to exist outside of that role.
When she finished tending to his wounds, she sat back on her heels and studied him quietly. “You’re different,” she murmured, more to herself than to him.
Percy frowned. “Different how?”
“You don’t seek glory,” she said. “You don’t boast, and you don’t expect anything in return for what you do. But you also don’t take care of yourself, and that worries me.”
Percy’s gaze dropped to his lap, where his fingers twisted the edge of his damp shirt. “I’m used to it.”
“That doesn’t mean it’s right,” she replied gently.
He bit his lip, his throat tightening. The conversation was hitting too close to home, peeling back layers of armor he wasn’t ready to let go of. He wanted to tell her that he was fine, that she didn’t need to worry, but the words stuck in his throat.
Amphitrite reached out and placed a hand over his. “You don’t have to do everything alone, Percy. Let us help you.”
His breath hitched, and he looked up at her, the vulnerability in his eyes making her chest ache. “I don’t know how.”
“You’ll learn,” she said, her voice warm and reassuring. “We’ll help you.”
For a moment, Percy didn’t move. Then, slowly, he nodded, the smallest crack forming in the walls he had built around himself.
“Thank you,” he whispered, though he wasn’t sure if he was thanking her for the bandages or the promise of something more.
Amphitrite smiled softly, squeezing his hand before standing. “Come on. Let’s get you back to your room.”
As she helped him to his feet, Percy’s thoughts drifted to Poseidon. His dad had been the first person to make him feel safe, and now, Amphitrite was extending that same safety. He wasn’t used to it, but maybe—just maybe—it was something he could learn to accept.
And as they walked back through the glowing garden, he realized that, for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t walking alone.
———————————————————————
Later that evening, the palace had settled into a serene stillness, the faint hum of the ocean currents surrounding it like a lullaby. The soft glow of bioluminescent coral illuminated the pathways, casting ripples of light across the garden floor. Percy walked slowly, trailing his fingers along the fronds of glowing seaweed. The cool, silky texture grounded him, each step releasing a little of the tension that had built up since breakfast.
He hadn’t told anyone where he was going—he didn’t want to worry Poseidon any more than he already had. But as much as he wanted to stay close to his father, Percy didn’t want to admit how badly he was struggling again. His emotions had been teetering on a knife’s edge all day, and he needed space to breathe. Or maybe he just didn’t want Poseidon to see him break down twice in the same day.
He found a bench near a small fountain and sat down, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. His fingers toyed with the edge of his sleeve, covering the faint bandages Amphitrite had wrapped around his arms. The cool night air of the underwater garden wrapped around him, but his thoughts refused to settle.
The memory of Poseidon holding him earlier that day lingered, and Percy’s breath hitched at the thought of that safety slipping away. The comfort had been so overwhelming, so unfamiliar, that a part of him still didn’t trust it. What if he woke up tomorrow and it was gone? What if he needed it and Poseidon wasn’t there? He had learned the hard way that relying on others came with risks—people left, they changed, or they grew afraid of you.
Just like Annabeth had.
Percy’s fingers tightened into fists, and he squeezed his eyes shut, willing the thoughts away. He hadn’t meant to think of her again, but the memory of her voice cut through him like a blade: I don’t know who you are anymore.
“I don’t know either,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.
The sound of footsteps approaching pulled him from his spiraling thoughts. He tensed instinctively, but when he looked up and saw Amphitrite, he relaxed—just slightly. She walked gracefully across the garden, her gown flowing around her like rippling silk, the coral light casting a soft glow on her serene expression.
“You’ve had a long day,” she said softly. “I thought you might need some company.”
Percy hesitated, unsure if he wanted to be alone or not, but something in her gentle tone eased the tension in his shoulders. He nodded quietly, and she sat down beside him on the bench. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the quiet hum of the garden filling the silence between them.
“It’s beautiful here,” he said finally, his voice hoarse.
Amphitrite smiled faintly. “Yes, it is. But you’re not here for the view, are you?”
Percy’s throat tightened, and he looked away, ashamed of how obvious his struggle was. “I’m trying to be better,” he whispered. “I just don’t know how.”
Amphitrite’s gaze softened, and she reached over, gently prying his fingers loose from the fists they had formed. “You’re not broken, Percy.”
His breath hitched. “It feels like I am. Annabeth’s gone, and I keep messing everything up. I should be better than this.”
“Why do you think you need to be better?” she asked gently.
“Because that’s what everyone expects,” he said, his voice shaking. “I’m supposed to be the hero. I’m supposed to be strong.”
“You’ve been strong for everyone else,” Amphitrite said, her fingers tightening around his hand, “but when was the last time you let someone be strong for you?”
The question lodged itself deep in his chest, and he blinked rapidly, trying to hold back the tears burning at the corners of his eyes. He didn’t know how to answer. Letting others take care of him had always felt wrong—selfish, even. But Poseidon’s warmth earlier had cracked something inside him, and now, sitting here with Amphitrite’s gentle touch anchoring him, he didn’t have the strength to rebuild those walls.
“I don’t know how to let go,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.
Amphitrite gave his hand a soft squeeze. “You’ve spent so long carrying the world on your shoulders, Percy. It’s okay to set it down.”
Percy shook his head, the guilt twisting inside him like a knot. “I don’t know how to stop feeling like it’s my fault.”
“None of this is your fault,” she said firmly. “You didn’t ask to be a hero, and you didn’t ask for the weight that came with it. But you’ve carried it with more grace and courage than anyone should ever be asked to.”
The words settled heavily in his chest, warm but painful, like sunlight on a fresh wound. His breath hitched again, and a tear slipped down his cheek before he could stop it. He quickly wiped it away, embarrassed.
Amphitrite’s hand moved to his shoulder, and before he knew it, she had pulled him gently into an embrace. He froze for a moment, the unfamiliarity of the gesture catching him off guard, but the warmth of her arms reminded him of Poseidon’s earlier embrace—safe, steady, and full of unconditional care. His resistance crumbled, and he sagged against her, his face buried in her shoulder as silent sobs wracked his body.
“You don’t have to do this alone,” she whispered, stroking his hair in slow, soothing motions. “We’re here. Poseidon is here. Let us help you.”
The mention of his father made Percy’s chest tighten again, but this time, it wasn’t from fear. It was the same aching warmth he had felt when Poseidon had called him son —a love so fierce and unconditional that it scared him. He had spent so long believing that love was fragile, that it could be taken away, but Poseidon had shattered that belief with just a few words.
“I don’t want to lose him,” Percy whispered into Amphitrite’s shoulder, his voice trembling. “I don’t want to lose my dad.”
“You won’t,” she said softly. “Poseidon loves you more than you realize. He’s not going anywhere.”
Percy’s fingers curled into the fabric of her gown, holding on as if letting go would leave him adrift again. “I don’t know how to believe that.”
“You don’t have to figure it out right away,” she said. “Just let yourself feel it, little by little.”
They stayed like that for a while, the soft glow of the garden casting a peaceful aura around them. Amphitrite didn’t rush him, didn’t try to fill the silence with meaningless reassurances. She simply held him, her warmth slowly unraveling the tension in his chest.
When his tears finally subsided, Percy pulled back slightly, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, avoiding her gaze.
“Don’t be,” she said gently. “You needed this.”
He nodded, his throat too tight to speak, but he managed a small, grateful smile. Amphitrite brushed a strand of hair out of his face and stood, offering him her hand.
“Come on,” she said. “Let’s get you back to your room.”
Percy hesitated for a moment, then took her hand. As they walked back through the glowing garden, he thought of Poseidon waiting for him. The warmth in his chest flickered, like the first spark of a fire, and he realized that maybe—just maybe—it wasn’t too late to learn how to accept love without fear.