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Chapter Text

The call of the ocean was strong tonight.

Percy walked along the dock at the edge of New Rome. Everything was silent except for the chimes of ropes banging against masts and the restless flap of tarps in the wind. The salt in the breeze tasted sweet and heady.

Percy made his way over to the bottom of a wooden jetty and sat so his legs dangled over the edge, his feet hovering just above the water. The sea below him was black and fathomless. But he could feel how it was teeming with life; he could hear the fishes chattering as they swam around and under the hulls of the twenty-or-so-dinghies crowded into the dark marina, he could hear the distant calls of dolphins wanting him to play with them beyond the sandbar.

It would be so easy to push himself off the edge and be swept away by the currents, to breathe seawater again and to feel it fill his lungs. He missed it. Gods, he missed it.

A dark swell moved towards him, as if responding to his call.

It was a completely ordinary wave. But, as soon as it touched the tip of one shoe as it grazed the water, it surged upwards and tugged at his sneaker like a curious animal. Trying to pull him in deeper.

In this heady daze, Percy almost let it. The salt in his blood longed to be reunited with the ocean.

He could almost see the mer drifting in and out of the golden towers of Atlantis. He could almost feel himself swimming in his father’s halls. He would no longer feel trapped like he did in this small city. He would no longer feel like an outsider. He would finally embrace his birthright. He would finally be free.

But as he looked back towards the lights and sounds of the city center atop the hill, towards his small terraced house where his kid was waiting for his bedtime story, reality cut through the haze like a splash of cold water.

He needed to leave. He needed to leave right now.

As if sensing his change of heart, watery tendrils coiled around his foot, wrenching him almost hungrily towards the dark mass below his feet.

He pulled at his foot. But it wouldn’t move. It was stuck fast, like his foot was being sucked into quicksand. He extended his senses towards the sea, trying to wrestle a grip over the water. But it was thicker and heavier than he was used to. It was aware.

Oh shit, Percy thought, his father was here.

He hadn’t been careful. He hadn’t been careful at all.

He kicked at the blackness, twisting and jerking his foot within his shoe, trying to tear his foot free of his sneaker. The sea only held it tighter. The water crept up to his laces and his shoe was almost fully submerged in the water.

With one violent tug, his foot finally slipped through the shoe just in time, and he was flung backwards with the force of it. The shoe sank into the water with a slurp. Leaving Percy lying on his back on the jetty, winded, staring at the stars.

He pushed himself upright and backed away from the ocean quickly. The pull at his core was frantic, pulling him back towards the sea. But Poseidon couldn’t reach him in New Rome. And Neptune didn’t care one way or another.

~~~

As soon as he unlocked and opened his apartment door, the sound of screaming laughter, light, and warmth greeted Percy. It was a stark contrast to the quiet from the ocean, and it took him a second to acclimatize. He paused in the doorway, taking one last breath of the cold night air, before shutting the door behind him, and hanging up his coat.

“DADDY!” Cried his two-year-old, Odysseus, as his kid stumble-ran into the corridor. Annabeth’s curls bounced on his head, and Percy’s own green eyes stared at Percy in delight.

Percy laughed and scooped up his kid into a hug, twirling him around, before gently placing him back to the floor. Nothing in the world would be worth giving this up.

Annabeth appeared in the doorway from the living room. Her hand rested against her round stomach. She took one look at his shoeless foot and raised her eyebrows at him, her eyes were sad.

He made his way over to her and hugged her tightly, and she clung to him just as fiercely. He’d almost lost his family forever.  

“You smell like the ocean,” she said as a way of greeting.

“I was stupid,” Percy said.

Annabeth smirked. “Aren’t you always, seaweed brain?” Her face turned serious as she tucked a piece of Percy’s hair behind his ear. “You can’t keep putting yourself in the way of temptation.” She eyed his remaining shoe. “It only takes one small mistake and everything we’ve built together is lost.”

Percy swallowed and turned his eyes on Odysseus who was crouched down, frowning at Percy’s sock as if it was the answer to some great mystery. “Silly daddy, why no shoe?”

“Yes,” Percy said, laughing with relief. He was here. He was safe. His dad couldn’t reach him in New Rome as long as he stayed away from the sea. “Your daddy has been very silly.”

~~~

That night, cuddled in the warmth of Annabeth’s embrace, Percy could almost pretend nothing had happened. Her arms were tight around him, like a tether to the world above the water. The strawberry scent of her shampoo almost drowned out the smell of seasalt that still clung to him. For once, he could almost believe that he felt complete without the sea. That he could be at peace on land forever.

Sleep took him quickly.

When it did, he was already standing on the marbled floors of his father’s throne room, brine on his tongue.

He should have known his dreams tonight wouldn’t be safe.

Begrudgingly, he turned towards the hulking figure on the throne. Poseidon sat there in all his sixteen-foot glory, trident held loosely in one hand. He was also wearing his battle armour, likely as a symbol to remind Percy who had the power here, as if Percy ever forgot. The blue plumage from his dad’s helmet writhed like a living storm.

“You’re being stubborn, Perseus.”

In the shadows of his helmet, his father’s face was hard as stone. But through the gaps, his sea-green eyes glowed unnaturally, and Percy got a brief glimpse of the darkness of the abyss - where bioluminescent lures drifted like ghosts. He suppressed a shiver. His father was not in a good mood if he was letting Percy see past the human mask.

“Can’t you just let me be, Dad? It’s been two years.”

His father’s hand tightened around his trident. But his face was still expressionless under the helmet. “I am your father, Perseus. You, yourself, now know how this goes.”

Percy thought of Ody and cringed at all the times he’d felt like he wanted to just lock him in the apartment and wrap him up in bubble wrap to stop him from getting injured. Was that a normal human desire? Or was this part of a darker, older, possessive urge he’d inherited from his father?

“A good parent just wants their kid to be happy,” Percy said, thinking of Ody’s face when he’d given him that scooter for his birthday. How he’d fallen and scraped his knee. If Percy had given in to that selfish, protective urge then, he’d never get to feel that pride or joy when his son had gotten up again, picked up his scooter, and carried on back down the road, all the while shrieking with laughter.

He tried to convey all those thoughts into his words as he looked up at his father. “My mortal life is making me happy. Can’t we just end this stalemate? Can’t we just enjoy the time we have left together?”

For a moment, Poseidon’s expression softened, looking like he longed for that too. Then his face hardened into a scowl, his fingers flexed over his trident, and a shadow fell over the throne room. The pressure of the depths became almost unbearable, even in his dream.

Poseidon didn’t like Percy bringing up Percy’s mortality anymore. Especially not after the accident.

“Parents want what’s best for their child,” Poseidon said, rising from his throne and shrinking himself down to human size so he faced Percy. He was back in the Hawaiian shirt and bermuda shorts assemblage Percy knew from his childhood. “You cannot fully understand what is best for you.” He stepped closer and his voice softened. “You are only mortal.” He reached out and clasped Percy’s shoulder. “When you are changed, you will understand. You will even thank me for it.”

Percy recoiled. “That’s never going to happen.”

Poseidon’s expression darkened, his grip tightening until Percy winced. “You cannot deny your heritage forever, Perseus.” A tiny pulse radiated from his dad’s fingers, it was barely a pinprick, but whatever it was, Percy felt it surge through his veins like a jet of cold water. “One day, you will embrace the sea again.”

Percy crossed his arms and hardened the expression on his face. “Watch me.”

~~~

Percy woke up gasping for air. Each breath was a stab of pain directly into his lungs, like he was breathing in hot sand. He pushed Annabeth away from him, who groaned in her sleep. He needed space, he needed the cold embrace of water. Fuck.

He needed a glass of water.

Before he knew it, he was downstairs by the kitchen sink in the dark, gulping down as much water as he could fit down his throat, but it didn’t soothe the ache. The water was missing something.

In his frenzy, Percy was pulling open a cupboard, taking out the saltshaker, and pouring salt straight into his mouth before he’d even realized what he was doing.

With the salt still clinging to his tongue, the next sip of water was the sweetest, most addicting thing Percy had ever tasted, and it soothed the ache in his lungs. He needed more.

He made himself a glass of saltwater this time and was just about to drink it when he stopped. What the hell was he doing?

He sank into the chair at the kitchen table and stared at the glass of saltwater in his hands in horror.

Had his dad done this to him? His dad wasn’t supposed to be able to reach him here in New Rome. That was the point. That was why Percy didn’t leave anymore. Had Neptune allowed this to happen? Gods, he hoped not. Things would be very bad if Neptune was getting involved.

He stayed there in the darkened kitchen for some time, gasping for breath, each lungful of air accompanied by a dry-sharp pain. He still refused to touch the saltwater in front of him.

The stairs out in the corridor creaked, and they were followed by the sound of heavy footprints making their way down towards him. Annabeth. He was both desperate to see her but also scared about what she would say.

Alaska was no place for demigods, especially a two-year-old legacy of two powerful Olympians and a heavily pregnant woman. There were far too many monsters and no divine help if things went wrong. But the land beyond the gods might be their only option at this point.

~~~

They were going to Alaska.

Nico was waiting just outside their house patting Mrs. O’Leary’s side as he waited for Annabeth to finish her last-minute check of her office to make sure she had all her architecture notes.

All of their things that constituted their small life together were packed into four large bags atop Mrs. O’Leary’s back, attached to her with straps like she was some sort of camel belonging to a desert wanderer and not a giant hellhound.

“Are you sure about this?” Nico asked, as Percy strapped Ody into the baby carrier across his front. Ody was a little too old for it, and his knees poked awkwardly against Percy’s stomach, but it was better to be safe than sorry on the journey over.

Percy almost laughed at the question but he had to stop himself. The air was starting to feel sharp and cutting against his throat again, and laughing would hurt. Percy grabbed the silver flask he’d tucked into his back pocket instead, scrambling with the lid, before taking a long swig of saltwater like an alcoholic. It instantly eased his aching throat.

Percy looked over at the sound of the front door to their house opening and met Annabeth’s gaze as she rejoined them. Her eyes were sad but when their gazes met, they turned to steel, and she nodded at him.

“It’s the only choice we have,” Percy said. 

Nico sighed and stared out towards the sea as if it had personally offended him. Percy avoided following his gaze. The sea called to the salt in his blood desperately. And the call was getting so powerful that Percy feared it was only a matter of time until he surrendered.

“I can’t believe it’s come to this,” Nico said.

Percy scowled. “It shouldn’t have.”

Annabeth took his spare hand in hers. “Shall we?” she asked, directing this at Nico, and she squeezed Percy’s hand. It was her nonverbal way of saying; we can do this. They’d travelled through Tartarus together. Alaska was nothing.

Nico nodded, and he put one hand on Annabeth’s shoulder, the other on Mrs. O’Leary, and New Rome faded into darkness as he transported them to Alaska.

Chapter Text

THREE YEARS LATER

Percy longed for the ocean.

If he stayed very still, the undulating light across the skin of the water above him could be the ocean’s surface. The clinks as his metal watch brushed the porcelain, muffled by the water, could be the clicks of distant dolphins. And with the salt he’d dissolved in the bath water, his lungs could expand to their fullest just like he was in the ocean. For a moment, his brain could almost trick himself into thinking this imitation was the home his blood longed for.

But his blood couldn’t be fooled. Get in the ocean, it whispered to him, just hop in a car and follow the call of the sea. It showed him how healthy, free, and completely absent from any pain he’d be in if he just drove to the coast, waded through the swash, and kept swimming past the continental slope and into the open ocean.

Percy closed his eyes and imagined how that might feel.

His peace was abruptly interrupted by the sound of deep, rhythmic thumps that reverberated through the water around him, breaking through the fog of his thoughts. Someone was knocking at the bathroom door.

Gods, he’d not even had five minutes of relief. His lungs were going to suck for the rest of the day. 

Closing his eyes and bracing himself for the pain, Percy surfaced. The first breath of air was iron-hot and his lungs constricted in on themselves. He felt light-headed as he scrambled out of the bath, vision swimming, as he grabbed his towel and tried to catch his breath, each stab painful enough to draw tears. It was always like this when he left the bath, as if his father’s curse was punishing him for daring to imitate the sea instead of living in it.

He didn’t know how much longer he could go on like this. Every day the longing only grew stronger, feeling more and more like an inescapable riptide. Luckily, they lived high in the mountains, far away from any bodies of water except for the muddy brook at the bottom of their wooded driveway. Otherwise, Percy might have surrendered to the call of the ocean long ago.

He scrambled for his inhaler full of saltwater that lay propped up against the mirror on the vanity and took a hit as he tried to acclimatise to the pain.

Finally feeling well enough to put his dad hat on, Percy wrapped his towel around himself and opened the bathroom door.

Ody was standing on the other side, holding up a piece of paper triumphantly.

“Dad,” he said, “I’m finished! Can you check my answers?”

Percy cursed Annabeth’s blood for giving him such an overachieving five-year-old who did second grade problem sets for fun and finished them so quickly. Couldn’t Ody have waited another ten minutes or so? Thank the gods his daughter, Atalanta, acted like a normal kid. She was probably happy where he’d left her, sitting on the lounge carpet and methodically pulling out each and every hair from her barbies with grim determination.

“Sure squirt,” Percy said, forcing a smile and shooting one last forlorn look at the tub of saltwater that he’d need to drain, “let me just finish getting ready.”

~~~

The kitchen and living room were connected, meaning that Percy had a good view of his daughter surrounded by a nest of blond and brown barbie hair on the rug, while he was checking over Ody’s problem sets at the kitchen counter.

He also had a good view of the TV. He itched to turn it on to the weather channel, to assess his father’s mood, but he’d made a promise to Annabeth to pretend like everything was normal until they had evidence it wasn’t. Especially with the guilt of three-years of his dad’s catastrophic hurricanes weighing heavily on him.

As he looked between his son who was chewing on the end of his pencil - giving a maths problem a frown that was all Annabeth - and his daughter who had started trying to pull off one of the naked barbie’s heads, he couldn’t help the dark coil of protectiveness that seized him. He would do anything for his family. If that meant parts of Florida and Texas were destroyed, so be it.

“Dad,” his son said without looking up, “is it true I’m related to royalty?”

Ice slid into Percy’s chest. He turned his full attention on his son. “What?” he asked, “who told you that?”

“My teacher.”

Percy’s heart thudded. They hadn’t had a chance to meet Ody’s teacher yet, who was new in town. He rubbed a hand against the ever-present ache in his lungs. Cyclops could cross the border. Could one have found their family?

He tried to keep his tone light as he fished for more details. “And why was that, huh?”

“Because I look like a little prince apparently,” Ody said.

Little prince. The exact same words his father’s subjects used to call Percy when he was a kid. He couldn’t help but think about how insane it was to go up against the immense power and resources his father had at his disposal. Odysseus didn’t seem to notice the fear on Percy’s face, still scratching away at a maths problem as he was.

“She says it’s because I have an ack-will-ine nose,” Ody added, sounding out the word and tapping his finger on the curve of his, sure enough, aquiline nose, “like the royalty did.”

Percy tried to reassure himself that everything was okay. That this was something an ordinary kindergarten teacher might say. But habit still had him reach for the TV remote anyway, desperate to get a bearing on his father’s mood.

The screen in the living room flickered to life and a weatherwoman was stood in front of a map of the US with a bunch of cartoon suns scattered across it. She was smiling, saying something about the unusual lack of storms predicted over the next week and making an anecdote that it was the perfect time to arrange a beach trip.

And Percy couldn’t help but feel a sense of foreboding. His dad was finally in a good mood for what felt like the first time in five years. Why?

~~~

The thought consumed him.

He didn’t want to worry Annabeth yet; the blueprints for the new Alaskan state capital in Juneau were due at the end of the week and she’d been locked away in her office for days, the floor a mess of papers, books, and multicoloured post-it notes. But it had him sleeping in fitful spurts, waking up to random panic attacks from vague dreams he could hardly remember through the night. He hadn’t felt this helpless or out of control since the accident.

He almost resorted to sleeping in the bathtub, almost.

It did have Percy worried enough to park his car on the road in front of the blue wooden building that was Ody’s school like a cop on a stakeout, clutching Atalanta to himself tightly. As it was the only road in and out of the school, and the surrounding area was covered in knee-high orange and blackened tundra, he had the perfect vantage point if anything happened.

He sat there for what felt like hours, ignoring Atalanta’s complaints about how bored she was or how hungry she was, long-since running out of saltwater in his inhaler, and the urge to put his foot on the pedal and keep driving until he reached the ocean kept getting harder and harder to ignore.

By about lunchtime, the school receptionist came outside and knocked on his window.

“Are you okay, Mr. Jackson?” She asked, after he’d rolled down the pane.

Percy was suddenly struck by how odd it must look from her perspective. Gods, what was he doing? He had become so protective because of something so innocuous, parked out here like some sort of weirdo. Gods, this was not normal at all. He was acting like a creep. He was acting like his father. No wonder the receptionist looked so concerned.

“Uh,” Percy said, rubbing his chest, scrambling for an excuse, “it’s my asthma. I didn’t feel safe enough to drive. I should be good to go soon.”

The receptionist looked relieved. Gods above, what had the school thought of him?

“Make sure you do set off soon,” she said. “We do empathise with your disability, but we also have child safety laws to follow.” She gave a smile that was full of fake empathy. “We’d hate to flag you on our system.”

Alarmed, Percy apologised profusely and set off almost immediately. Gods, what the hell was he doing?

Later that afternoon, he’d gone back to pick up Odysseus, and his son had skipped up to the car in the carpool line. He was fine, he was safe, and nothing else suspicious about his teacher or school came up for a long time. Percy had just been overprotective.

And that was that.

Until they got the phone call from Odysseus’s school a few weeks later.

~~~

Before they even reached the road for Odysseus’s school, they could hear multiple sirens wailing in the distance.

Annabeth sat in the passenger seat next to him, tapping her fingers against the dashboard. In the back, Atalanta was strapped into her car seat, tracing raindrops down the fogged glass with her fingers, smudging the window as if the world outside wasn’t breaking apart. Percy tried not to look at Ody’s empty booster seat beside her.

“So,” Annabeth said, still tapping her fingers as if it could help her think, “the plan is to discreetly investigate for any signs that this was from our world.” Annabeth might seem all business, explaining her plan like it was just another day at work, but her tight grip on Percy’s thigh as he drove was trembling. “It could just be an ordinary, mentally sick mortal.”

Percy spared a glance at her face. She didn’t sound like she believed that, and she certainly didn’t look it. “And they can’t have gone far,” she went on. “It’s not like there’s anywhere to hide out here.”

“Little Prince,” Percy reminded her quietly.

Annabeth shook her head. “We can’t jump to conclusions. That’s a very common logical fallacy. We can’t act rashly with everything at stake.”

Percy swallowed hard and fixed his eyes on the road ahead, where the darkened sky cast heavy shadows over the tundra, the asphalt cutting through the fields of orange and black. Something inside him already knew it was his dad. He could feel it in his gut.

If only his father were mortal. Then at least they could shout at each other, grieve together, rage about how unfair everything was like a normal family. His father’s pain after the accident had been real, Percy was sure of that. But gods, why did he have to twist it into this?

Annabeth’s hand tightened against his thigh. Odysseus’s school was now in view.

It was surrounded by cars with flashing blue lights. It seemed like half the town had shown up. There were police cruisers, mountain rescue trucks, and even a Denali Park Ranger van despite being eleven miles away from the park entrance. The school principal, Mrs. Bowers, stood under a sodden umbrella by the gate, harried as she spoke to a cop.

Her face blanched as soon as she saw Percy’s car pulling into the parking lot. She immediately stopped talking and made a bee-line towards them.

“We’re so sorry,” she said when Percy and Annabeth stepped out, Atalanta held tight in Percy’s arms. “If we’d had any idea how mentally unwell Mrs. Healy was, we’d never have let her anywhere near the kids.”

The detective she’d been talking to introduced himself with a handshake. It didn’t take much needling from Annabeth to let them into the Ody’s classroom.

~~~

The sight inside Ody’s classroom made Percy’s stomach twist.

There was something profoundly wrong about seeing that yellow tape cutting through the innocence of the room, sectioning off the colourful, alphabet mat, and the half-finished drawings and crayons that were abandoned mid-lesson.

Police were shining black lights over the teacher’s desk and technicians in white gloves were crowded around one of the small plastic desks, spraying a fine mist across the plastic surface. His heart jolted when he realised that must have been the last place Odysseus was seen. He grabbed Annabeth’s hand and held it tightly, needing something to ground himself. He felt so adrift.

“The class are currently with the second graders,” Mrs. Bowers said. Percy spared her a glance, but he didn’t really care about the other kids right now, his son was missing.

How could his son, his awesome, smart, beautiful son, be taken from him so easily? Only this morning, he’d been telling Ody off for chewing his cereal with his mouth open, as he was explaining to Percy how the spirals of shells could be explained by mathematics. Had Percy known then that Odysseus would have been taken from him that day, he wouldn’t have let him come into school in the first place. He’d have kept him home, wrapped him in his arms, safe where nothing could touch him.

Percy frowned. Something about that thought unsettled him. The controlling urge reminded Percy of his father. Was this how Percy’s father felt about Percy’s mortality?

And then Percy realized exactly what was happening here.

He shoved past the cops, and snatched Ody’s sketchbook from a technician’s hands.

“Excuse me, sir –”

He ignored the technician and opened the book with shaking fingers. He didn’t know what he was searching for, but he trusted Odysseus’s analytical mind enough to know that he might have left them a clue. He flicked through the pages quickly and, on the last page, he saw it.

It was a badly drawn stick figure. In the circle that was supposed to be its face, there was a curved line for a smile and an L-shape for a nose. But, where the eyes should be, there was only a single blue scribble drawn right in the middle of the forehead. As if there was only one eye. His stomach dropped. He was right.

Without a word, he handed the notebook to Annabeth who gasped.

Everything around him felt like it was greyed out. The cops moved around him, but it didn’t matter, the principal was trying to talk to him, but it didn’t matter. All he was aware of was just him, Odysseus’s desk, Atalanta in his arms, and Annabeth beside him. And how difficult it was to breathe.

“A son for a son,” Annabeth whispered.

“But that’s not all there is to it,” Percy said, pulling his hand out of Annabeth’s and handing her Atalanta, who was quiet and watching everything with her large grey eyes. “This is all just a stupid lesson.” Percy gestured widely to the crime scene and couldn’t help the laugh that burst out of him. Gods, his father was deranged. He really was willing to push it this far, wasn’t he?

“He wants me to feel like he does,” Percy continued. “He’s kidnapping my son to teach me how it feels to lose me. To make me feel sorry for him. Gods, this is still all about him.” Percy was so angry, and the classroom was suddenly so small - the air too sharp and dry and earthy - and a bunch of cops had their hands all over his son’s things. The air pressure dropped around them.  “This is who the gods are? This is what he wants me to become?” he asked, turning on his heel and making his way to the exit before he lost his grip on his powers. “Gods, this is all so fucked up.”

He strode out of the school, away from the crowds, past his car, and straight into the tundra, thorns pulling at his jeans as he walked. He stopped in the middle of the field - Odysseus’s school and the vehicles surrounding it, small on the horizon.

He took a breath through his inhaler and finally let go of that awful pressure that had been building in his chest. Wind and rain lashed against his skin, and he welcomed it, he welcomed how the grey cast around him made everything look like he was underwater.

Percy had thought that his dad at least cared about Percy and his mom like a person would. But what kind of father was willing to force their son into hiding, curse their son so that they would be in constant pain, and kidnap one of the most precious parts of their son’s life just to make a point?

Had his father even cared about the accident like Percy had? Or was all this an excuse to get what he wanted? The rain pelted down against the bracken harder in response to his emotions, and Percy hardly cared that he felt cold to the bone.

~~~

Sometime later, a hand slipped into his and he smelt strawberry shampoo. Annabeth.

He turned towards her, clutching tightly at her hand. Her expression was sad and defeated. And Atalanta was held tightly to her hip.

“Daddy,” Atalanta said, reaching for him. He pulled both Annabeth and her into his arms and rested his chin on top of Annabeth’s curls. She stroked his back reassuringly, but it was a hollow gesture. Was this going to be the last time he got to hold them like this?

The thought caused the anger to ebb, leaving him feeling cold and empty, and exhausted. The rain around them settled into a light drizzle. He just wanted this all to end.  

“What will you do?” Annabeth asked, after some time.

He stared out into the distance, towards the direction he knew the sea was in. Even now, it called to him. Telling him to come home. He was so powerless. Even in Alaska, Percy was powerless against his father.

Percy shrugged. What could he do?   

~~~

A few hours later, he was stood at the Canadian border. And, in front of him, was the dark mass of the Pacific.

Somewhere at the edge of his awareness, he knew Annabeth was crying beside him, clutching a sleeping Atalanta to her tightly, but they felt so distant, as if they were far away. All his attention was on the line of foam ahead, where the narrow strip of beach met the open sea. Only a few more steps, his blood whispered, and you’ll finally be home.

Distantly, he was aware of the dangers. He could hear the sea hammering at the headland to his left, he could feel Annabeth’s tight grip on his arm pulling him back. But before him, the water lapped gently against the shore, pulling the pebbles to and fro in a hypnotic lullaby. The distance between him and the shoreline was thinning, and Percy wasn’t sure if the sea was climbing towards him, or if he was walking towards the sea. But it didn’t matter which, in only a few moments, he would be healthy, free, and completely absent from any pain. 

“Percy!” Annabeth shouted, “Remember Odysseus.”

The desperation in her voice was enough to snap through his trance, and he was suddenly aware of where he was, what he was doing, and who he was with. Pain exploded in his throat, and he scrambled for his inhaler, taking a few deep breaths to help him concentrate. He had to stay focused. He had to make his father see sense. It was the only chance they had left.

He eyed the line Annabeth had drawn in the sand with a stick and took a deep breath. This was it. It was finally time to confront his father.

He put his foot over the boundary and stepped out of Alaska for the first time in three years.

The sea reacted almost immediately.

It churned like a pot of water boiling on the stove, and a dark bulge rose from the heaving mass of seafoam, taking on a humanoid shape. His father was here.

Annabeth – still in Alaska – squeezed his hand reassuringly.

The water fell away, and Poseidon stood before him in his Hawaiian shirt and sandals, for the first time in five years. The first time since the accident.

But Percy only had eyes for the small boy at his side – his own son, who’s small hand was folded into Poseidon’s, holding a half-finished ice cream in the other, and grinning at Percy like he’d just came back from a beach day with his grandfather and not been kidnapped.

He’d wanted to be diplomatic, but at the sight of his son’s hand in his father’s, all the willpower went out the window.

“Give me back my son,” Percy said, meeting his father’s glowing green eyes. He’d expected some kind of satisfaction on his father’s face - his dad had got what he wanted, after all - but his father’s face was cold as stone, jaw clenched like a parent furious that their child had dared to break his rules.

His son moved out of the corner of his eye, and Percy looked over to see that Odysseus was frowning now, gaze flickering between him, Annabeth, and Poseidon, likely picking up on the silent tension. His son, far too smart for a five-year-old, must have realised that his father was a threat as he started to tug at Poseidon’s hand in earnest, trying to squirm out of his grip.

“I will,” his dad said, adjusting his grip on Odysseus, who stilled beside him, “as soon as you get in the water.”

Annabeth tried to stifle a sob beside him, but Percy heard it. He gently rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb. He had one last weapon left in his arsenal, the one thing he hadn’t wanted to use.

Percy closed his eyes and swallowed against the lump that formed in his throat as he finally let himself think about the night of the accident after all this time.

“Mom wouldn’t have wanted this,” he said, as he finally met Poseidon’s eyes.

Something cracked in Poseidon’s expression, and for the first time in five years, his dad finally looked vulnerable. The lines around his mouth softened, and his shoulders dipped slightly, like he was too tired to hold himself upright.

Rain began to fall around them, blurring the line between sea and sky.

Percy recognised the exhaustion in his dad’s face. It was grief. The feeling that had been with Percy ever since his mom had died in that car accident all those years ago.

“Just let me be,” Percy said, “for her sake.”

They stood there in silence - Percy on the Alaskan border with Annabeth and Atalanta, Poseidon waist-deep in the sea with Odysseus – finally sharing in the pain that had haunted them both after all these years. It was long overdue.

“Please just let me see her again in Elysium,” Percy continued.

That was the wrong thing to say. His father’s expression hardened, and the grief drained out of his face, replaced by that cold expression. He straightened his back, and the pressure dropped, the wind started whipping around the headlands.

“Your mother was mortal,” his dad said. “She wouldn’t understand.” His expression darkened and the rain came harder now, sheeting across the sand, almost obscuring Poseidon and Odysseus from Percy’s vision. “I will not repeat myself, Perseus,” he said quietly. “Get in the water.”

Percy had nothing left to say. All the words he’d had planned for this and the reliable impertinence he usually fell back on were gone, scraped out of him. There was nothing else he could give.  He just felt hollow and exhausted.

He turned to Annabeth. She was crying in earnest now. She probably knew what Percy was going to do before he’d even made the decision. His fatal flaw was loyalty, and when the question was Percy’s happiness or Odysseus? There was always one choice he was going to make.

He used his free hand to pull her face close to his and gave her one last desperate kiss. It was messy, and his teeth clacked against hers, and he was very out of sync, but he didn’t care. He memorised the taste of those soft lips against his for the last time, the salt of her tears, the warmth that would vanish the moment he stepped away. He brushed her hair back from her face, kissed Atalanta’s forehead, and turned towards the sea.

The tug at his core was stronger now. He didn’t know if it was the spray of saltwater whipping in the wind, or the fact that his father was here, or because his blood knew it was finally time to be reunited with his home. But everything in him was pulling him towards the ocean. And for the first time in five years, he succumbed to the call.

Before he knew it, he was knee deep in the cold water, then waist deep, and then finally he was in front of his father.

Poseidon smiled down at him. “Good,” he said.

A heavy hand came down on Percy’s shoulder.

And the pain began almost immediately.

Chapter Text

It began as a white-hot lance straight down his spine, so sharp it stole his breath before he could even cry out. Then it spread, racing though his lungs, then his ribs, then his every nerve until his entire body felt like he was being electrocuted by a live wire. He tried to move but his muscles were locked. He couldn’t tell if he was standing or falling. He couldn’t tell if he was breathing or suffocating.

The pain begged his mind to succumb. But he fought it. There was something important he needed to do.

While it was happening, Poseidon’s thumb rubbed small circles into his shoulder. As if he wasn’t the one causing him all this pain. As if he was genuinely regretful. 

His father was talking to him. He was barely aware of what his father was saying through the fog of pain, but in a moment of clarity he could concentrate on his words.

“I have never grieved before, Perseus,” his father was saying. “I do not care for it at all. So, I will not apologise for protecting myself from going through it again - and saving you in the process.”

Percy could hardly bring himself to care. His father’s grief meant nothing. He’d grieved too. All that mattered now – the only thing that he could focus on properly past the fire crawling up his spine, past the prickling numbness at his fingertips – was one thought. The reason he was here.

“My son?” Percy rasped out.

His father stopped stroking his shoulder. “With his mother,” he said dismissively. But Percy found himself relaxing at last. His son was safe.

“You will forgive me, you will see,” his father said, as his thumb continued stroking his shoulder blade. “I did not lie when I said you would thank me for it.”

Percy’s arms were a dead weight now. He couldn’t move for the fear of the intense prickling like a thousand needles alighting his body at even the smallest tense of his muscles. That fire had crept up to his shoulders and torso, leaving numbness everywhere. His body was now a dead weight.

He could no longer feel his father’s fingers at his shoulder.

He no longer feels anything.

At long last, the pain is gone.

And it is just him and his thoughts. And the world is shrinking. And he’s getting bigger and bigger and everything around him is getting smaller and smaller. And he’s in the water - in every water where there is a coast - and he’s heaving to and fro.

He can see the people above him in the skin of the water, like tiny amphids in their tiny rubber rings, on tiny boards darting in and out of the tiny waves, making tiny sandcastles just beyond the waterline. Each of them probably has their own name, their own personality, and their own life. But he can’t see them as individuals at this distance, the tiny specks they are.

But he knows that they are all happy. For people are normally happy at the beach.

And that is who he is. He is the beach and everything between the tidelines. He is that interchangeable place that is both land and sea.  

He spares a thought for Annabeth and his children, but he cannot feel them. They must be beyond his domain.

He frowns slightly, a phantom throb in his chest where a heart used to be. But it is soothed over by the peaceful wash of his waves. He is at peace. For everyone finds their peace at the beach.

Maybe Annabeth will bring his children and visit his domain from time to time, he thinks distantly. He would like that. He could spoil his children rotten. Take them out for ice cream, teach them how to surf, show them how to build sandcastles - when the divine rules allow of course. He’ll look forward to it.

But for now, he wants to enjoy his peace and happiness. In the ocean. At long last.

And he realises the gift his father has given him then, for it is a gift. It is a love that only another god can understand. His father has gifted him his favourite domain, the best parts of his own self.

And he is thankful.

~~~

He can feel a tug on his mind, like a knock on the door. He can answer the call if he would like. And he does.

He’s shrinking, following that tug, coalescing himself into a body.

He finds himself in the marble and golden throne room of Atlantis.

There, sitting on the throne in front of him, is his father. He is dressed in his armour just like he had when he haunted Percy’s dreams all those years ago. But this time, he smiles at Percy with pride. Triton is to the left of him. His face is weary and most likely resigned. And Amphitrite is to the right, regal in her splendour, her face expressionless.

They are mortal-shaped, but he can see now that they are nothing like mortals – he too is nothing like a mortal anymore. They are their domains. They are ideas and energies that sometimes have mortal-like emotions.

Percy glances to either side and sees the crowds of tiny forms of mermen and women - now the size of his shin in his godly form - lining the hall. 

The mer bow to Percy as he passes. He barely spares them a thought, except to welcome their reverence and their fear with satisfaction - like he’d just been fed a hearty meal. It is his due by birthright, after all.

He pauses in front of his father, who all but beams.

“My son,” his father says, “welcome home at last.”