Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The day started peacefully.

Which, in Atlantis, meant something was definitely about to explode.

Triton was leading a scouting mission past the Deep Fissure—a rift in the ocean floor that even the eldest sea nymphs avoided. Dangerous magic, unstable currents, weird underworld bleed-through.

Poseidon had only one rule: “Percy does not go near that trench.”

So, naturally…

…Percy was there.

Curled up in the storage hold of the supply transport, holding a juice pouch and whispering to his crab plushie, “We goin’ on ‘venture, Crabby.”

They were well into the trench route when Triton spotted the first clue.

A juice pouch drifted lazily through the current, bobbing past a cluster of soldiers mid-formation. It was unmistakably toddler-sized, decorated with a cartoon hippocampus and labeled Bubble Berry Splash!—with a bite mark on the straw.

Triton frowned, snagging it out of the water. “…This isn’t standard issue.”

A moment later, a trail of items followed:

A soggy sea star gummy wrapper, a tiny kelp roll half-unwrapped and trailing crumbs, crumpled napkin with the words “Perses Snak Tim Pan” scrawled in shaky crayon. Finally, a small, damp sock tangled in sea grass—blue, with a stitched trident and the words Commander Barnacle’s Official Sock printed in bold.

The blood drained from Triton’s face.

One of the guards swam up beside him. “Sir? Is that…?”

Triton turned the sock over in his hand. “That’s Percy’s.”

The young soldier looked around, scanning the trench with sudden unease. “I thought he was back at the palace.”

“So did I,” Triton said grimly.

Another scout cautiously approached, holding a piece of kelp paper with stickers on it. “This was wedged behind the supply crates. It has a checklist.”

Triton took it.

“My Misson Today!” (the ‘i’ was dotted with a fish)

1. Sneak real good

2. Fight sea bad guys

3. Be like big bro

4. NO NAPS

5. Snack time

6. Go home to Daddy

Triton swore under his breath. “He snuck in. Probably during loading. None of us noticed.”

The soldiers looked around the open ocean in growing alarm.

“But… where is he now?”

Triton’s heart pounded.

He looked back the way they came—the trench, winding through darker territory. Dangerous magic. Unstable currents.

Forward—nothing but open sea.

The child had vanished. Somewhere. Somewhere in the sea.

Triton clenched his fists. “We’ve lost him.”

The youngest guard’s voice trembled. “Should I alert the king?”

Triton didn’t hesitate. “Yes. Send a message immediately.”

He paused.

“…And maybe tell the palace staff to prepare for a category-seven Poseidon meltdown.”

——

The sea had been bright.

Now it was not.

The colors had changed—soft greens faded to gray, light filtered weird, and the water felt… wrong. Still, but not sleepy. More like holding its breath.

Three-year-old Percy Jackson didn’t know what he’d done, or where he was.

He just knew he’d followed a sparkle.

There’d been a swirl. A shimmer. A funny-looking trench wall with a crack in it that whispered funny things.

And then…

Poof.

He rubbed at his eyes, blinked blearily, and looked around.

Everything was weird.

No fishies. No kelp. No Twon. No Daddy.

“Crabby…” he whispered, clutching his crab plushie. “I think we in the wrong part.”

The current was slow, gentle but strange. His juice pouch was gone. His snack bag had floated off somewhere. And now he was just a barefoot baby in a too-big sash, sticky fingers, and a blanket cape drifting behind him.

“Hellooo?” he called. “Is dis Atlantis? Did I win?”

There was no answer.

He floated over a ridge in a current and then was dropped into a field full of flowers. Lots of them. Ghosty-looking. White and pale green, growing in fields that swayed with no current.

He blinked.

“…Pretty.”

Then he saw the man.

Tall. Black robes. Shadowy. Pale skin. Kind of scary. But not mean-looking. He was standing by a river, talking to someone Percy didn’t know—an old guy with a scroll.

The tall man turned at the sound of splashing.

And froze.

Because there, waddling up the riverbank like a stray sea otter, was a toddler. Barefoot. Pearl-crowned. Smiling.

“Hi!” Percy chirped. “You a ghost?”

Hades blinked.

“…I’m sorry, what?”

“You look spooky,” Percy continued, completely unfazed. “But you got a nice cape. Is soft? Mine's soft. You wanna feel?”

The old man beside Hades stared. “My lord. Is that—?”

“No idea,” Hades muttered. He took a slow step forward. “Child… where are your parents?”

Percy shrugged. “I dunno. I had snacks. Den a swirly. Den poof.” He held up Crabby. “He came too.”

Hades stared at the plush crab clutched in sticky fingers. He blinked as he saw the claws pinch together.

“…You’re a godling.” Hades said confused and slightly in awe. Something about this child felt different.

Percy nodded proudly. “Yup. ‘M strong gog. I fight bad guys.” He thumped his chest and immediately winced. “Ow.”

Hades sighed.

This was not his job.

He ruled the dead. He judged souls. He did not babysit lost toddlers with marshmallow cheeks and snack crust in their hair.

Yet here this one was. Alone. Unafraid. Smiling at him like he was a safe harbor.

Percy held out his arms suddenly. “You smell like rocks. Can I hug you?”

“…Why would—?”

“Daddy smells like rocks too. An’ fish. But you smell like cave rocks. I like it.”

Against his better judgment, Hades knelt.

Percy waddled forward and hugged him like they were old friends.

The Lord of the Dead froze.

The ghost judges watching from a distance slowly backed away.

“Alright,” Hades muttered. “New plan. Someone’s clearly lost their child, and somehow the Underworld got custody.”

Percy plopped onto the ground and yawned. “You got snacks?”

“…No.”

“Oh.” He reached into his sash and pulled out a half-melted coral chew. “S’okay. I share.”

Hades stared at the sticky offering.

This child had no fear. No hesitation. Just sunshine and crumbs and zero self-preservation.

And he was very small.

“…You can stay until we figure out where you belong,” Hades said at last.

Percy blinked up at him, beaming. “’Kay. You nice. I call you Unca Ghost.”

Hades sighed deeply.

“…Fine.”

Cerberus was mid-guard duty when Percy spotted him.

“DOGGY!!”

The three-headed hellhound of the Underworld froze.

Percy ran forward with no hesitation whatsoever, waving.

“Hi doggy! You got lotsa heads! You see everywhere.”

Cerberus growled a warning. Three of them.

Percy didn’t stop.

He plopped down in front of the beast and held out Crabby. “This my crab. He bite. You bite too?”

Cerberus sniffed.

Percy beamed. “You wanna play?”

Seconds later, the Underworld’s most feared beast was curled around a child like a kitten around a warm rock. Percy was feeding him crushed coral cookies and giving each head a name.

“You is Chompy, you is Licky, and you is Mr. Wiggles.”

Cerberus’s tails thudded against the stone.

When Hades returned to find them, he stared blankly.

“Of course,” he muttered. “Why not.”

Persephone arrived not long after, bringing color and warmth in her wake.

She stepped into the hall—froze—and burst out laughing.

Because there, perched atop Hades’s throne like a goblin king, was a small child. Blanket cape. Glitter sticker crown with chicken bones. Cerberus massive bulk curled around the throne heads at his feet and in his lap like a loyal puppy.

He looked up. “Hi, flower lady! You’re pretty!”

Persephone nearly swooned on the spot.

“Oh, he’s adorable!” She scooped him up. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“I Percy. You the flower boss?”

She grinned. “I am.”

“Then you gets this.” He handed her a slightly smushed daisy he’d found near the Styx.

Persephone looked like she might cry.

“I’m keeping him,” she declared.

“We are not keeping him,” Hades said for the third time that hour.

“You let him nap in your lap.”

“He refused to nap unless I held him.”

“You read him a story.”

“He threatened to bite Thanatos if I didn’t.”

“You hummed.”

“I did not.”

“You did.”

“…He’s small.”

Persephone beamed. “You love him already.”

—-—————

The Hall of Judgment was a place of silence.

A place of finality. Souls filed in by the thousands, guided into the afterlife by the unshakable authority of the three great Judges of the Dead.

That is—until Percy got in.

No one saw how.

One moment the judges were debating a centuries-old case. The next, Rhadamanthus glanced to the side and muttered, “What is… is that a child? A living child?”

Aeacus turned. “There are no children in the Underworld.”

And then Minos shouted, “He’s on the ledger!”

Percy had somehow climbed onto the giant stone table in the center of the court, crayon in hand, drawing smiley faces next to the names of souls.

“I gave them all a good grade,” Percy explained cheerfully. “They tried their best.”

“You cannot alter the judgment records!” Rhadamanthus sputtered.

“Too late!” Percy said, holding up the chalk like a scepter. “I fixed it. Also I gived your ghost a hat.” He pointed to one of the projected soul-forms. “Now he’s Fancy Dead.”

The judges looked on in mute horror as Percy stuck a glitter sticker on the forehead of the tablet that had once glowed with divine authority.

It now said:

“Approved by Commander Barnacle – Good Job!”

Minos pinched the bridge of his nose. “Where is the King?”

“I dunno,” Percy said, already halfway through constructing a pillow fort under the witness bench. “Unca Ghost said I gotta be ‘good.’ I am bein’ good.”

Aeacus leaned down slowly. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

Percy peered up at him with a wide smile. “Then how come I’m here anyway?”

The judges had no answer.

They also did not move, speak, or blink as Percy left behind a trail of stickers, accidentally reclassified twelve souls as “Awesome,” and shouted, “You guys is like ghosty grandpas! Bye-bye ghost grandpas!!”

When Hades found out, he needed a full minute of silence.

Then:

“…He edited the Book of Final Judgement?”

Persephone sipped her tea. “He said it was boring and needed pictures.”

“…We’re cursed.”

“No. We’re blessed.”

———————-

Alecto floated through the corridor like doom itself, chains rattling.

She spotted the child drawing on the floor with ghost chalk and smiled wickedly.

“You. Mortal. Are you afraid of pain?”

Percy looked up. “Hi Miss Screamy!”

Alecto paused.

“…What did you call me?”

“You screeched real loud at the doggie. So you Miss Screamy. Wanna sticker?”

He held out a bright yellow smiley face.

Alecto stared.

Then took it.

Hades, watching from a shadowed archway, whispered to himself: “This child has defeated death, law, and vengeance in under three hours.”

The ocean should have been calm.

Instead, it thrashed.

Currents surged unpredictably across the sea, reefs were battered by waves that should not exist at those depths, and whirlpools bloomed in the far trenches like bruises on skin.

The waters of the world were unraveling.

And in the heart of Atlantis, the sea god stood still.

Poseidon’s hands curled loosely at his sides. He hadn’t moved from the center of the hall in what felt like hours.

The only things in front of him were a crumpled juice pouch, torn open and half-drained, and a single tiny sock.

Triton hovered a few paces behind him. Silent. Pale.

“I should’ve noticed,” Triton said quietly. “He left a trail. His snacks. Stickers. He always leaves stickers.”

Poseidon didn’t respond.

The silence pressed in.

From outside the palace walls, the water groaned. Long, low creaks of tectonic plates shifting—far too early, far too violently. Something deep was stirring, pulled from rest by the weight of divine emotion.

A tremor shivered through the sea floor. Sand lifted. Fish scattered.

And still Poseidon didn’t move.

Triton finally dared to speak again. “We’ve searched the ridge, the storage routes, the full trench path. He’s not anywhere we can reach.”

Poseidon inhaled sharply through his nose—barely a sound—but it shifted the current like a thunderclap.

Then, at last, he spoke.

Not loudly. Not in fury.

Just a whisper, hoarse and cracking.

“I can’t feel him.”

He stared down at the juice pouch in his hand. His fingers trembled.

“Not a ripple. Not a breath. Not a heartbeat in the tide. He’s gone, Triton. And I can’t feel him. Not anywhere in my ocean.”

A deeper tremor split through the far reef wall. A shockwave tore through the kelp forests. Somewhere far above, the sea near the surface rolled into a storm with no warning and no wind.

The ocean mirrored its master.

Triton didn’t speak. What could he say?

Poseidon slowly sank to one knee.

The water coiled around him like it was trying to hold him together.

“He’s only a child,” Poseidon murmured. “He must be so scared.”

His shoulders shuddered once—barely, like a wave refusing to break.

And outside, the sea darkened again.

Triton turned away, not out of disrespect, but because watching a god mourn felt like trespassing.

And across the oceans, the deep currents howled.

The Underworld was calm.

Too calm.

Percy Jackson, age three and three quarters, lay upside down across Hades' throne, legs swinging over the armrest as Crabby sat in his lap like a royal advisor.

Persephone sat beside him, gently running her fingers through his curls.

“You’re quiet today, my little flower,” she said.

Percy shrugged. “M’kay.”

“You sure?”

He hesitated. Then sighed, small and tired.

“I miss Daddy.”

Persephone paused mid-stroke.

“I been real brave,” Percy mumbled. “Did a big mission. Got ghost stickers. Made a puppy fort. But… I think I should go home now.”

Persephone hugged him close. “He’s probably looking for you.”

“He’s the best looker,” Percy said proudly. “He gonna find me. ‘Cause I’m his.”

Hades had conquered death.

He’d brokered with titans.

But never had he sat across from a soggy, snack-crusted toddler determined to give him heartburn.

Percy sat cross-legged on a pillow, swinging his legs and chewing on a kelp chip from his never-ending aquatic themed snacks.

Hades took a long breath.

“Alright, child. Let’s figure out where you came from.”

“Kay.”

“Your name?”

“Percy.” Crunch. “Commander Barnacle.”

“Surname?”

“Wha’s that?”

“Your last name.”

“Oh. Daddy says I’m a Jackson. But only when I’m in trouble.”

“…Parents?”

Percy nodded seriously.

“Are they mortal?”

“Half.”

“Is one a god?”

“Yup.”

Hades steepled his fingers. “What’s your daddy’s name?”

Percy blinked, then smiled brightly. “Daddy.”

“…No, I mean—what do people call him?”

Percy leaned in and whispered, like it was the most sacred secret in the universe:

“Daddy.”

Hades let out a long breath through his nose.

“Right. Of course.”

He tried a different route. “Where do you live?”

“In the water.”

“…Lake? River? Ocean?”

Percy frowned. “Big water. Big house. Lotsa fish.”

“Does your home have a name?”

“…Home.”

“…Of course.”

Hades glanced at the floor, trying not to yell into his hands. “Any siblings?”

“I got a shark named Toofy,” Percy said proudly. “He’s a good shark.”

That made Hades pause.

Then his gaze dropped—to the kelp chip bag.

To the plush crab.

To the boy’s green eyes. And were those shark teeth?

To the divine spark buzzing under his skin—subtle, but ancient.

And then Hades saw it.

The jawline. The eyes. The stubbornness in every answer.

The resemblance slammed into him like a collapsing cave.

“Oh no,” Hades muttered. “Oh no, no, no—How could I miss it?”

Persephone looked up from across the room. “What is it?”

He turned toward her, very slowly.

“I think we’ve been babysitting Poseidon’s child.”

Percy, oblivious, licked salt from his fingers.

Hades stood frozen in his study, arms braced on the desk, head bowed like a man awaiting his own execution.

Behind him, Persephone calmly braided Percy’s hair while the toddler narrated his heroic life story to Crabby for the third time that morning.

“I beat a jellyfish once,” Percy was saying. “An’ I falled down a hole. An’ now we here. This is a good fort.”

Hades didn’t move. Didn't acknowledge the fact that his palace, his domain had been simplified to fort. He was too busy panicking.

His shadows were restless, curling tight around his ankles.

Persephone looked up. “So. Are you going to send a message?”

“I’m considering it,” Hades said through gritted teeth.

“Or?”

“Or I prepare for Poseidon to arrive via tsunami and dismantle my foyer.”

“Hmm.”

She glanced down at Percy—who was now drawing a crab battle on ghost parchment using colored sticks that might’ve once been cursed bones.

“He seems harmless.”

“He’s Poseidon’s baby. A godling at that. The first in millenia. Poseidon is renowned for being a protective father to his children. To one such as Percy...” Hades turned, pale and increasingly feral. “He’s going to murder me.”

“You didn’t kidnap him.”

“No, but I didn’t return him either! I didn't really try to figure out where he belonged. Do you understand what Poseidon’s going to do when he realizes I have his toddler?!”

“Assuming he hasn’t already noticed,” Persephone said mildly.

Thunder rumbled overhead from the shifting of the fault lines.

They both paused.

“…That wasn’t metaphorical thunder, was it?” she asked.

“No.”

The chandelier shook.

Percy didn’t even flinch.

“I think Daddy’s coming,” he said brightly. “I feeled it in my tummy.”

Hades turned to Persephone. “He feels his father’s approach. He’s attuned. That’s a divine child of Poseidon with baby cheeks.”

Outside the study, the River Styx began to churn. Faint tremors ran along the obsidian pillars. The torches dimmed—not from lack of light, but because the pressure of a new force approaching weighed on the entire realm.

Hades pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I have three options,” he muttered. “One, send a message and hope it doesn’t make things worse. Two, hide and pretend this never happened.”

“Unwise,” Persephone said, smoothing Percy’s curls.

“Or three,” Hades continued grimly, “build a shrine out of crab plushies and kelp snacks and pray for mercy.”

“That one has emotional integrity,” Persephone offered.

Another boom echoed through the stone.

Percy perked up, eyes bright. “That’s Daddy’s stomp!”

Persephone smiled gently. “He’s almost here, little one.”

Hades sighed, looked skyward, and said to no one in particular:

“If I am to be smote and ripped to shreds, please let it be quick.”

The Underworld shook.

Not gently. Not politely. But like a tectonic plate had just screamed.

Waves of pressure rolled through the deepest caverns. Obsidian cracked. Stygian currents slammed into stone walls with enough force to make ancient spirits dive for cover.

Cerberus whimpered and curled tighter around Percy, who was currently building a throne for Crabby out of skulls.

“Daddy’s here,” Percy said confidently, not even looking up. “I feel’d him.”

Persephone stood and smoothed her gown. “Time to brace for dramatics.”

Hades was already in full defense mode, shadows wrapping around his shoulders, helm floating at his side. “Do I look like I abducted him?”

“No,” she said cheerfully. “You look like quite handsome, husband. Don't worry so much, it will work out.”

Hades had a single moment to blush before the throne room doors exploded open—no creak, no announcement, just a rush of raw sea-force.

Poseidon appeared like the storm made flesh.

Water poured in behind him, but never touched the floor. His trident shimmered with divine power, his eyes wild with panic and fury, his entire body coiled like a tsunami seconds from landfall.

He did not speak.

He didn’t have to.

Every soul in the room felt what he came for.

Then—

“Daddy!!”

A blur of blanket cape and stubby legs launched across the room.

Poseidon caught him instinctively, arms folding around Percy like the world was cracking and only this boy could hold it together.

The storm broke.

For a heartbeat.

Percy clung to him, burying his face in Poseidon’s shoulder with a happy sigh. “I told them you’d find me.”

Poseidon trembled—just once—then crushed his son tighter to his chest. “Sea Star…”

But the fury wasn’t gone.

Just tucked under the surface.

He looked up slowly—eyes locking onto Hades, who stood his ground even as the sea god’s power flared again, pulling the room darker.

“I should drown you in the Styx, rip you into pieces so small you never reform and throw you into the Pit,” Poseidon said, voice like the deep before a maelstrom.

Hades didn’t flinch. “He wandered into my realm. I didn’t—”

Before he could finish, a small hand tapped Poseidon’s cheek.

“Why you going all boom boom?” Percy asked, very seriously.

Poseidon blinked.

“I need uh tell you ‘bout my mission!” Percy continued, wiggling in his arms so he could stand up proudly on his father’s thigh. “I met Unca Ghost! An’ Flower Boss Lady! An’ they had cookies! An’ a doggie that’s very big. I gived him Crabby and he didn’t even chomp him!”

Poseidon stared.

Percy kept babbling.

“I helped judge some ghosts. Gave stickers. Good ones. An’ then I draw’d pictures an’ had snack time. Unca Ghost was gonna go boom boom but he didn’t, ‘cause I said please.”

Poseidon’s wrath flickered.

Then… faded.

The ocean inside him quieted, tension melting under the relentless weight of Percy’s joy. His arms tightened protectively, pressing his cheek to Percy’s curls.

“You’re safe,” he whispered. “You’re safe.”

Percy nodded proudly. “Told you. Good mission.”

Poseidon looked up again—at Hades.

The rage didn’t return.

Instead, something far rarer passed over the sea god’s face.

Gratitude.

Raw. Unfiltered. Wordless.

“…Thank you, Hades,” Poseidon said quietly. “For keeping him safe.”

And that was the moment Percy’s sleepy little brain connected the dots.

He blinked.

Then gasped dramatically.

“Wait.” He twisted around in his father’s arms, eyes wide. “You know Unca Ghost?!”

Poseidon blinked. “He’s your uncle.”

Percy’s jaw dropped. “You’re Hades?! Like, real Hades?! You my Unca Hades?!”

Hades took a cautious half-step back. “Er… yes?”

He didn’t get to say anything else, because Percy launched straight out of Poseidon’s arms with zero hesitation and tackled him in a hug.

“UNCLE HADES!! I LOVE YOU!!”

Hades caught him on instinct, staggered back two steps, and looked deeply overwhelmed as Percy clung to his neck and patted his cheek like they’d known each other forever.

“You got the best doggie. And the best snacks. An’ the best house. You’re my favoritest ghost ever.”

Hades opened his mouth. Closed it.

His arms slowly wrapped around the tiny body now latched onto him like an affectionate barnacle.

“…This is not how I imagined being worshipped,” he muttered.

Poseidon—still trying to recover from the emotional whiplash—let out a breath that was half a laugh.

Hades didn’t want to let go.

That truth settled in his chest like a tombstone as Percy hugged him with the full force of toddler affection, face pressed into his shoulder, little fingers tangled in the folds of his cloak.

“I stay with you next time too, Unca Hades,” Percy mumbled. “We have tea parties. An’ ghost dress-up. An’ you let me boss ghosts again.”

Hades gently patted his back. “That was one time.”

“You said I was a natural.”

“…You were terrifying,” Hades admitted.

Across the chamber, Poseidon waited—arms outstretched, the storm long since calmed from his shoulders. He didn’t push. He didn’t demand.

He simply stood there, eyes on his son, silent and waiting.

Percy blinked up at Hades, lip wobbling just a little. “I go home now?”

“You do,” Hades said softly. “Your daddy missed you very much.”

“I miss him too.”

Hades adjusted Percy’s blanket cape one last time, then reluctantly passed him back into Poseidon’s arms.

Percy immediately snuggled close, cheek to his father’s shoulder, eyes fluttering shut in the warm safety of home.

Poseidon held him like he was holding the world.

“Sleep, little one,” he whispered, brushing a hand over Percy’s curls. “Daddy’s got you.”

Within seconds, Percy was out—breathing deep, arms curled between them, Crabby clutched tightly in one fist.

———-

The Underworld had grown quiet.

Cerberus slumbered in the distance. Persephone had returned to her gardens after kissing Percy's head. Only two gods remained standing in the throne room—and one godling, curled and sleeping in his father’s arms, utterly unaware of the shift he had caused in the tapestry of the world.

Poseidon held Percy close, gently rocking him. The child was sound asleep, lashes damp, curls mussed, thumb hooked loosely in the collar of Poseidon’s tunic. He looked peaceful. He was anything but ordinary.

Hades stood beside them, arms crossed. He had known something was off the moment the boy entered his realm. But now, standing here with the sea god beside him, the truth weighed heavier than he expected.

“He’s divine,” Hades said at last.

“Yes,” Poseidon murmured. “Fully.”

“He wasn’t born that way.” A statement, but Poseidon responded anyway.

“No.”

Hades looked down at the boy. “Then what happened?”

Poseidon’s expression darkened, his voice low with memory. “A monster. Coastal, minor. But vicious. It attacked while they were on vacation at Montauk. Sally, his mother, fought back—used the blade I gave her. She killed it. But it wounded her too deeply.” His hand gently stroked Percy’s hair. “By the time I arrived, she was already gone.”

Hades was silent.

“He saw it,” Poseidon continued. “All of it. He called for help, but no one came. Not in time. And something in him—broke. Or maybe it woke. He screamed. And the sea rose with him.”

He paused.

“And in that moment… so did his divinity.”

Hades narrowed his eyes. “That kind of reaction—it wouldn't just create power. It undoes something.”

Poseidon nodded slowly. “His mortality… unraveled. But so did something else.” He hesitated. “I felt it. A shudder in the threads.”

“The Fates?” Hades asked.

“Yes. Like… something snapped. Or was pulled out.” Poseidon’s tone had gone sharp and ancient now, heavy with knowing. “There was an echo. A tearing. I haven’t felt anything like it even when I held the Oracle in the First Age.”

Hades stiffened. “You think he unraveled from the Loom?”

“I don’t think,” Poseidon said. “I know. He is no longer part of the tapestry as intended.”

Hades stared at him.

“He doesn’t have a thread,” Poseidon continued, voice hollow with awe and fear. “Not a mortal one. Not a divine one. He exists outside fate now.”

Hades looked again at the sleeping boy. “And the Fates won’t tolerate that.”

“No,” Poseidon said grimly. “They’ll try to tie him back in. Force a thread where one no longer belongs.”

“Can they?”

“I don’t know,” Poseidon admitted. “But if they try and it leads to him being in danger—” His arms tightened around Percy. “—I’ll stop them.”

“That’s madness,” Hades said quietly.

“That’s fatherhood,” Poseidon replied.

The silence returned, heavy and thrumming with old truths.

“Does Zeus know?” Hades asked.

“No,” Poseidon said. “And we keep it that way. As long as possible.”

“He’d see Percy as a threat.”

“He’d see him as an abomination,” Poseidon snapped. “A godling formed by mortal will, by grief, by accident.”

Hades tilted his head. “Maybe not an accident. A moment like that… it reshapes the world. Like when Helen met Paris, when father ate the rock, when Chaos created the Beginning. While in this case it may not be what fate intended, it is not unlike the moments that have changed the immortal world forever. It seems brother, the time has come for a significant change. We gods have grown stagnant and we have always needed a catalyst for change."

Poseidon exhaled through his nose. “He’s immortal. Fully divine. But he’s unanchored. No worship. No domains. No temples. Until he finds what’s his… he’s tethered to me. My power sustains him.”

“And if something happens to you—?”

“He fades,” Poseidon said. “Not dies. But weakens. Forgotten.”

The enormity of it hung between them.

At last, Hades spoke. “He’s outside the laws. Outside the prophecy. Outside the Fates.” He looked Poseidon dead in the eye.

“Are you prepared to fight for him?” Hades asked.

Poseidon didn’t look away. “I’ll fight anyone for him.”

Hades nodded slowly. Then after a beat: “So will I.”

Poseidon turned, surprised.

Hades gave him a look. “You think I’m letting the godling to bring sticker diplomacy to the Underworld fade into oblivion? We may not have been close or even spoken like this in millennia brother, but I see all the best sides of you in that boy. I will allow nothing to happen to him.”

Poseidon huffed a tired laugh. “You’re soft.”

“I’m reasonable.” Hades glanced at the boy. “And if Olympus or Zeus tries anything… they’ll have to get through more than just the sea. However, I think it is smart to not let Zeus know he was previously a demigod or how he was born if they are to encounter each other.”

A silence passed between them—old, powerful, weighted like the deepest trench.

“We protect him,” Hades said.

Poseidon kissed the top of Percy’s head. “With everything we are.”

The boy stirred, yawned, and nestled closer.

The ocean rumbled in Poseidon's chest.

And the Underworld held its breath.