Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The wind was soft, the sky was blue, and the waves giggled with Percy.

Sally Jackson sat on the beach, her sundress fluttering, feet bare and toes dug into warm sand. Percy sat a few feet away with a tiny plastic shovel, digging a crooked moat around a seashell castle.

“I makin’ it strong,” he said proudly. “No waves knock it over.”

“You’re doing a great job, sweetheart,” she said.

“‘Cause I da castle guy!”

He turned and beamed at her, hair sticking up in damp curls, cheeks kissed red by the sun.

She smiled and reached for the bag beside her. Nestled between a folded towel and a crushed juice box was a short bronze knife in a plain leather sheath.

Poseidon had left it three years ago—right after Percy was born. In case you ever need it. Trust your instincts.

She didn’t question it. She never had.

The waves shifted.

Percy blinked and turned toward the water. “That wave’s real big.”

Sally stood quickly.

Then she heard it. A clicking, rattling sound—like shells grinding underfoot.

Something small but twisted burst from the foam, seaweed draped across its hunched back. Its skin was scaly and slimy, it's limbs too long for its squat body. Rust-colored claws dragged furrows in the sand, and its eyes glowed a sickly green.

It hissed—too loud for something so small—and lunged forward on all fours.

A Sea-Kallikantzaros. She had read about them in greek mythology.

Not powerful. But deadly.

And drawn to divine blood.

Sally grabbed Percy and shoved him behind her. “Don’t move.”

The monster shrieked and charged.

She pulled the celestial bronze knife from the bag. It felt heavier than she remembered. But her grip was steady.

When the creature leapt, she met it midair and slashed.

A flash of bronze. A hiss. A burst of golden dust.

It was gone.

But not before one jagged claw caught her ribs.

She gasped and dropped to her knees.

“Mommy?”

Percy crawled to her side, dragging his knees through the sand, eyes wide and scared. “Mommy, you okay?”

Her hand was pressed to her side, red blooming through her shirt like a flower. She tried to sit up—but her body didn’t listen.

“I’m fine,” she whispered. “Just a little hurt.”

Percy frowned. “You fell down…”

“I know, baby.”

“You should get up. You gotta get up.”

Sally reached out and cupped his cheek, brushing his tear-streaked face with trembling fingers.

Her touch was still warm.

“You're okay now,” Percy said softly. “The monster’s gone. I saw it go poof.”

Sally’s smile was shaky, but full of love. “Because you were so brave.”

Percy didn’t understand why she was crying.

He wiped at her face clumsily. “Don’t be sad, Mommy. It’s over.”

Her breathing hitched. “Percy... you listen to me, okay?”

He nodded, wide-eyed.

“You are the most wonderful thing I’ve ever done,” she whispered. “You are my little sea star. My whole world.”

He leaned closer, confused and clinging. “But… I didn’t do anything.”

“You’re here,” she said, voice thin. “That’s everything.”

Percy blinked. “We can go home now. I’ll hold your hand, real careful.”

Her hand slipped from his cheek.

“Mommy?”

He nudged her arm. “Mommy?”

Nothing.

The rise and fall of her chest had stopped.

Her eyes were closed.

The sound of the ocean faded under the pounding of his heart.

“Mommy?” he whispered again, smaller now. “Why you not talking?”

The sky seemed to still.

He lay beside her, trembling, his little hand curled in hers.

“…Mommy?”

Then the world broke open.

The ocean shifted.

Percy stared at her, then shook her arm.

The tears came fast. Big and hot and messy.

He screamed.

And the sea screamed back.

Lightning cracked. The sky blackened. The waves rose, raging.

Sand spun. Wind howled. A hurricane bloomed from nothing—because it didn’t come from nature.

It came from him.

Poseidon felt it.

A divine storm. One that didn’t belong.

Not Kym's. Not Zeus’s.

Something... new.

He rode the currents, fury building, until he reached the eye of the storm.

What he found made his immortal heart go still.

At the center was a boy. Tiny. Glowing faintly with divine light. Curled against the still form of Sally Jackson.

He didn’t look up until Poseidon stepped closer.

When he did, his voice broke with something raw and too old for three years.

“…Daddy?”

Poseidon froze. His little boy. How did he know who he was?

Percy touched his face. His hand was small and trembling.

“Mommy said you were lost at sea,” he whispered.

A tear slipped down his cheek.

“You founded now?”

Chapter Text

Poseidon knelt slowly.

He didn’t speak at first—how could he?

Sally’s body lay still in the sand, her arm curled protectively around the boy she died for. And the boy… the boy was glowing.

Not bright, not blinding—just a soft pulse of oceanlight beneath his skin, like the tide shifting under moonlight. Power. Divine. New.

Percy stared at him, small fingers still clutching Sally’s shirt.

“…Daddy?” he asked again, voice barely a breath.

Poseidon’s heart cracked wide open.

He hadn’t expected the boy to know him. He’d never been close enough. He thought the storm had been wild, instinctual. Untethered.

But this wasn’t a tantrum. This was grief.

“I…” Poseidon swallowed hard. “Yes. Yes, little one. I’m here.”

Percy’s lower lip wobbled. “Mommy said you were lost.”

Poseidon reached out slowly, palms open, careful not to frighten him.

“She said you got lost in the sea. But I waited, and now… now you’re founded.”

Poseidon nodded, voice thick. “I’m found now.”

Percy’s arms opened—awkward, uncertain, full of hope—and Poseidon gathered him into his arms.

The second he did, the storm began to die.

The winds softened. The waves fell into rhythm. The sky cracked open with light.

Percy sobbed quietly into his shoulder. “Mommy got hurt… I didn’t mean to yell so loud. I didn’t mean to make the sky mad.”

Poseidon cradled him tighter, one hand pressed gently to the back of his head. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“But I was scared.”

“I know.” His voice broke. “I know, little one.”

For a long time, they just sat there—god and child, father and son—on a beach salted with grief.

Finally, Percy looked up, his lashes damp.

“…Can I come with you now?”

Poseidon didn’t hesitate.

“You’ll never be alone again.”

And as he stood, lifting Percy into his arms and stepping back into the sea, the water rose to meet them—not as storm, but as sanctuary.

The ocean had its child now.

And it would never let him go.

The ocean parted for them—not in fear, but in reverence.

Poseidon carried Percy gently through the deep, the child wrapped in a blanket conjured from sea-silk, still damp with tears. The storm had long since passed, but its echo lingered in the currents, quiet now…watching.

Percy stirred in his arms as they descended further into the depths.

“Where we going?” he asked, voice still small but steady.

“To my home,” Poseidon said. “To your home.”

Percy blinked sleepily. “You live in a fish house?”

Poseidon huffed a soft laugh. “Something like that.”

The darkness of the deep gave way to faint glimmers.

Then more.

Lights—blue and gold and green—twinkled through the water like stars, growing brighter and brighter until the full majesty of Atlantis bloomed before them.

Sprawling coral towers, glowing sea glass spires, arching domes carved from pearl and obsidian, whole schools of bioluminescent fish darting between bridges. Great sea turtles drifted lazily past luminous gardens. A whale sang in the distance.

Percy gasped.

His eyes went huge.

“M’shiny.”

Poseidon smiled. “Yes, little one.”

“Is that a castle?” Percy whispered, pointing at a grand, spiraling palace nestled in the heart of it all.

“It is.”

“Do you have a fish throne?”

“A very impressive one.”

Percy’s mouth formed a perfect O as his head turned this way and that, trying to see everything at once. His curls floated around him like a halo, his fingers twitching with excitement against Poseidon’s chest.

“Do I get a fish room?”

Poseidon’s heart tugged. “Yes. You can have anything you want.”

Percy looked up at him suddenly. “Even jellyfish lights?”

“Especially jellyfish lights.”

The boy gave a sleepy, awed little giggle. “You got the best house ever.”

Poseidon didn’t respond—not with words.

He just stared at him.

At his son.

His miracle.

His sea star.

A living piece of love and grief and light, born of two worlds, now curled trustingly in his arms like he’d always belonged there.

And maybe… he had.

Poseidon pressed a kiss to Percy’s damp curls.

“Welcome home.”

The gates of the palace shimmered open with a soft pulse from the current.

Guards bowed low as Poseidon entered, trident slung across his back, his cloak trailing behind him like rippling ink. But their gazes weren’t on him.

They were on the small bundle in his arms.

Percy clung to his chest, arms around his father’s neck, fingers fisting the soft sea-silk blanket. His green eyes—red-rimmed and heavy—blinked slowly as the palace’s soft lights flickered across the polished coral walls.

“Is this your fish castle?” he whispered.

Poseidon smiled softly. “Yes.”

“…It’s big.”

“I’ll carry you until you’re ready to walk.”

Percy nodded and buried his face back into Poseidon’s shoulder.

Waiting just inside the main hall stood two figures.

Amphitrite, queen of the sea, regal in seafoam and silver, her gaze cool and unreadable. And beside her, Triton, trident in hand, shoulders straight, expression tightly guarded.

They both bowed.

“My lord,” Amphitrite said.

“My father,” Triton echoed.

Poseidon gave a nod. “Thank you both for coming.”

Amphitrite’s gaze moved to the small head peeking over Poseidon’s shoulder. “This is… him?”

“Yes.” His voice gentled. “This is Percy.”

Percy peeked out at the new people. He tucked his chin into the blanket and blinked owlishly at them.

“…Hi,” he whispered.

Amphitrite’s expression flickered—almost too fast to catch.

She’d expected many things: a demigod, maybe a cocky child. But not this. Not this tiny, heartbroken boy with curls like tidewater and eyes like Poseidon’s. Not a glowing, trembling godling who looked more like a startled sea otter than a threat.

Poseidon added softly, “His mother is gone. It happened only hours ago.”

Percy didn’t speak.

But his hand tightened on Poseidon’s tunic.

And that, more than any word, broke something loose in Amphitrite.

Her gaze softened. Her shoulders relaxed.

“…He looks like you,” she said.

Poseidon’s hand rose to Percy’s back. “He’s shy right now. And very tired.”

Percy stared at her silently for a moment.

Then lifted one tiny hand and waved—just once.

Amphitrite’s heart melted.

“Hello, little one,” she said gently. “I’m… your stepmother.”

Percy tilted his head.

Then after a beat, offered, “You got shiny hair.”

A smile cracked across her face before she could stop it. “Thank you.”

“I like your dress too.”

Triton stiffened beside her.

Poseidon gave his son a gentle kiss to the temple. “You’re doing so well, seashell.”

Percy turned his eyes to Triton next, blinking slowly.

“…You grumpy?”

Triton blinked. “What?”

“You look like you wanna go ‘hmmph,’” Percy said, making a pouty face and crossing his arms for emphasis.

Amphitrite snorted quietly behind her hand.

Poseidon bit back a laugh. “That’s your big brother, Triton.”

Percy tilted his head again. “You got big shoulders.”

Triton looked briefly like he wasn’t sure if he’d been complimented or mocked.

“…Thanks?” Triton muttered.

Percy leaned close to Poseidon’s ear and whispered (a whisper that still carried far too well), “He look like he don’t like me.”

Poseidon rubbed his back. “He just needs a little time.”

“Okay,” Percy murmured, clearly unbothered, already distracted. “Can I have a snack now?”

Amphitrite blinked. “You want—”

“Goldfish,” Percy said gravely. “The orange crunchy kind. A whole bowl. Maybe… maybe two bowls.”

Poseidon chuckled. “We’ll get you some.”

“I’ll have it sent to your quarters,” Amphitrite offered, voice softening.

Percy gave her a slow nod of approval, but didn’t move from Poseidon’s arms. He tightened his grip around his father’s neck, little hands curling into his hair.

Amphitrite hesitated, then looked to Poseidon. “Shall I prepare his room?”

“Yes,” Poseidon said gently. “But he’ll stay with me for now.”

Amphitrite gave the smallest of nods—something understanding in it now.

She looked at the boy again, really looked. At the way he tucked himself under Poseidon's chin, at the tear tracks still clinging to his cheeks, at the quiet exhaustion settling over his small frame. So much grief in someone so small.

And yet… he had Poseidon's eyes. That same stubborn current beneath the quiet.

Her chest ached in a way she hadn’t expected.

“I’ll make sure it’s perfect,” she said softly.

Percy yawned, thumb now in his mouth, blinking sleepily.

Poseidon cradled him close, one hand soothing over his back.

“Would you like to see your room, little one?” Amphitrite said gently.

Percy mumbled around his thumb, “Sure. But Daddy goes too.”

And Poseidon did.

Poseidon pushed open the door, one hand steadying Percy on his hip. The little godling had perked up the moment they approached the corridor, sensing something special.

“Ready to see your room?” Poseidon asked.

Percy nodded, thumb still in his mouth. “Mhm.”

The door shimmered open—

—and Percy’s eyes lit up.

“WHOA.”

He wriggled in Poseidon's arms until he was set down, then dashed forward on wobbly legs, arms flailing like a joyful baby kraken.

The room was made of soft coral and sea-glass hues, every curve shaped like a shell or a wave. The bed was round and low to the floor, its blankets plush and ocean-blue. Little starfish cushions dotted the edges, and soft currents drifted gently through the ceiling to mimic the soothing movement of shallow waves. A window overlooked a glowing reef where fish darted past in lazy trails.

In the corner was a pile of golden pillows, a treasure chest full of soft plush sea creatures, and a shelf already filled with picture books.

Percy gasped. “It’s like a sea cuddle cave!”

Amphitrite stood near the doorway, hands clasped loosely. “I hoped it would be right.”

Percy spun around. “Can I have jellyfish lights?!”

A soft flick of her hand—and gentle jellyfish-shaped lanterns blinked into view, casting a soft, sleepy glow across the room.

Percy squealed. “What about... a fishie fort?”

With a swirl of seafoam, a dome of shimmering kelp and coral formed in one corner with a soft rug beneath.

Percy turned, eyes shining. “Amphy!!”

Before she could respond, he launched himself at her legs and hugged her tightly.

“Thank you, Amphy,” he said into her dress.

Amphitrite blinked—then smiled.

“You’re welcome, little pearl.”

Poseidon watched quietly, something tender and ancient stirring in his chest.

Percy pulled away and yawned mid-wiggle, the excitement finally wearing down.

“M’tired,” he mumbled, making his way back to Poseidon and lifting his arms. “Can you hold me now?”

Poseidon scooped him up and carried him to the bed, lowering down carefully.

But the moment he tried to lay Percy down—

The boy latched onto him like a barnacle with a mission.

“Noooo,” Percy whined softly. “You sleep too.”

Poseidon chuckled, heart warm. “Alright, alright. I’m staying.”

He lay back with Percy curled against his chest, the sea-silk blanket pulled gently over them both.

Then, with a quiet snap of his fingers, he conjured a small, soft plush crab and placed it in Percy’s arms.

Percy blinked down at it, then smiled sleepily. “Hi Crabby.”

He hugged it close, thumb drifting back to his mouth.

Poseidon ran a hand through his curls.

“Sleep well, my little barnacle.”

“Mmmkay,” Percy mumbled around his thumb, eyes already closing. “Love you, Daddy…”

“I love you too.”

And as Percy drifted off—wrapped in safety, in love, in a world that was now trying to be gentle after the immense loss—the sea outside sang softly through the reef, guarding him like he was the ocean’s most precious treasure.

Because he was.

Chapter Text

The palace dining chamber was quiet and warm, lit by soft morning currents streaming through the reefstone windows. Plates of sea fruit, kelp pastries, and pearl-glazed crisps floated gently in the center of the table.

Poseidon settled into his seat with Percy already curled up in his lap, one arm looped around his father’s neck, the other resting on the table as his sleepy green eyes scanned the food.

He hadn’t even considered sitting on his own chair.

“I stay wif you,” he’d whispered that morning, thumb in his mouth and voice thick with sleep.

Poseidon didn’t hesitate.

Amphitrite sat to Poseidon’s left, regal and quiet, watching the boy closely.

Triton entered last, pausing just a moment longer than usual as he caught sight of Percy nestled against their father. He gave a short nod, then took his seat across from them.

Percy eyed the spread curiously, lifting his head just enough to inspect a jiggly green thing on a silver dish.

“What’s that?”

“Sea jelly cake,” Poseidon answered softly.

“It gonna wiggle into my nose?”

Poseidon considered. “Only if you don’t eat it fast enough.”

Percy let out a delighted snort and whispered, “I’m gonna bite it before it gets me.”

Triton raised an eyebrow. “Is he always like this in the morning?”

Poseidon smiled faintly. “This is my first morning with him.”

Percy turned his wide eyes to Triton. “You look like you need more jelly buns.”

Triton blinked. “What?”

Percy nodded seriously. “They fix the grumpies.”

Triton looked like he might respond—but didn’t.

Then, after a moment, he flicked a crisp across the table. It bounced gently off Percy’s curls and landed on his plate.

Percy gasped. “He food-attacked me!”

Triton leaned back. “It was... a test. To see if you had good reflexes.”

Percy narrowed his eyes. “I got the best ‘flexes. I dodge sharks.”

“You do?” Triton asked, caught off guard.

“In my dreams. I swim real fast.”

There was the smallest twitch at the corner of Triton’s mouth.

Amphitrite caught it.

She also noticed the way Poseidon’s hand moved protectively over Percy’s back as the boy dug into his food with clumsy enthusiasm, chattering softly between bites.

The table grew quieter, but not in an awkward way. More like… settling.

Percy leaned back into his father’s chest, munching on a sea crisp between sentences. His fingers were sticky. His curls were wild. He was still in yesterday’s tunic, sleeves slightly rolled.

But his eyes were bright again.

Just a little.

Amphitrite looked at him—really looked. At the way he relaxed in Poseidon’s lap like he’d always been there. At the way he brought warmth to the room just by being in it. At the grief still clinging to his edges like a shadow and the softness trying to take root over it.

She said nothing.

But her hand, resting lightly on the table, curled just a little closer toward his plate. As if, if he needed something, she might be the one to pass it.

And Poseidon noticed.

Breakfast had just wrapped up. Percy was still nestled in Poseidon's lap, absently munching the last goldfish cracker from his bowl, when inspiration struck like lightning.

He twisted around, eyes locking on Triton with sudden purpose.

“Hey Twon!”

Triton blinked. “...What?”

“Wanna see my cool room?” Percy asked, bouncing slightly. “Amphy made it for me! It’s got jelly lights and fish pillows and—and—”

He slid off Poseidon’s lap and stood proudly. “I got a fishie fort.”

“A fishie fort?” Triton repeated, cautious.

Percy nodded with authority. “An’ I might let you in. If you ask nice.”

Triton raised an eyebrow. “Might?”

Percy turned to Poseidon, tugging on his hand. “Let’s show Twon my room!”

Poseidon smiled and rose, brushing toast crumbs from Percy’s curls. “I think Twon’s being summoned.”

“I’m inspecting it,” Triton muttered as he stood. “Not playing.”

“You gotta take off your pokey armor first,” Percy said solemnly. “No pokey stuff in my fort.”

Triton sighed. “Why not?”

“Because it’s snuggle zone rules.”

Poseidon chuckled under his breath.

Percy grabbed both their hands—one in each tiny fist—and tugged them from the dining hall with a proud little waddle.

“Crabby guards the door,” he explained seriously. “He don’t let in meanies. Or pokers. But Daddy and Twon come.”

Behind them, Amphitrite shook her head with a quiet laugh.

And just like that, the smallest one in the palace led the ocean’s mightiest to a fishie fort.

Percy ran ahead the moment the door to his room opened, arms flapping like fish fins.

“Dis way, Twon! You gotta see it!”

The room still sparkled—soft and shiny and full of cozy blue things—and Percy loved it more than anything (except maybe Daddy and Crabby and his new jellyfish lights, but those were all in here too, so it was fine).

“Okay, okay!” he said, spinning around with dramatic flair. “Welcome to the Secret Fishie Fort of Sea Percy.”

Triton stepped inside warily, arms folded.

Percy dropped to the floor and crawled into his fishie fort—made of kelp curtains and squishy pillows and one blanket that definitely smelled like crab snacks.

“You can come in,” Percy declared. “But only if you say the magic word.”

Triton blinked. “What magic word?”

“…Pickles.”

“…Pickles?”

“Okay you can come in now!”

Percy scooted back and patted the spot beside him. “This is Crabby,” he said, holding up his stuffed crab proudly. “He guards me while I sleep. He’s not real-real but he’s real to me.”

Triton knelt carefully, still looking like he wasn’t sure how much space he should take up in the fort.

Percy handed him a pillow shaped like a stingray. “This your fort pass.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

“And this—” Percy flopped dramatically onto his belly and pointed at the shelf of books and plushies and sea rocks—“is my treasure zone. I found that rock myself. It’s got a hole in it like a little cave. That means it’s magic.”

Triton gave a small nod. “Looks... powerful.”

Percy beamed. “I know.”

He shuffled closer and dropped his voice to a whisper. “Do you like it, Twon?”

“…Yeah,” Triton said, barely above a breath. “Yeah, it’s pretty cool.”

Percy lit up. "Here you can have it. It's really special, but you my big brother so you have it. It protect you cause it's magic." He didn’t even notice the stiffness still in Triton’s shoulders. He just grinned, crawled into his lap without asking, and dropped Crabby in Triton’s arms.

“Now you’re part of the fort,” he said with finality, curling up against him.

Triton didn’t move.

Not at first.

The tiny weight of the boy in his lap was strange. New. Unfamiliar. But it wasn’t heavy. Not really.

Percy leaned into him like he’d always belonged there—like it wasn’t even a question.

Triton looked around the room. The soft lights. The silly pillows. The little shelf of nonsense treasures.

All made for him.

His little brother.

Triton exhaled slowly.

The weight in his chest was heavier than the child against it.

He glanced down at the little rock, then at Percy—now completely relaxed, thumb back in his mouth, cheeks round and peaceful.

“…You’re a weird little barnacle,” Triton murmured.

Percy didn’t answer.

But he smiled in his sleep.

And Triton didn’t move.

Not for a long time.

Poseidon stepped quietly into the doorway, intending only to check in.

What he saw made him stop.

The fishie fort glowed softly from the corners of the room—curtains swaying with slow, gentle currents. Pillows were scattered everywhere like seaweed tufts after a current shift. Crabby lay on his side, one plush claw flopped over Percy’s tiny back.

And there, at the center of it all, Triton sat cross-legged with Percy asleep in his lap, his arms lightly around the boy to keep him from slipping off. He looked still, alert, but not tense—just… quiet.

Careful.

Poseidon exhaled softly.

“He’s out,” Triton murmured, voice low.

“I can see that,” Poseidon said, stepping closer. “You’re still holding Crabby.”

Triton gave a tired huff. “He insisted.”

Poseidon crouched beside them, his hand brushing Percy’s curls with infinite care.

“I didn’t expect him to be like this,” Triton said suddenly. “He’s not what I thought a demigod would be…or I guess a godling.”

“No,” Poseidon agreed. “He’s not.”

“He’s... soft. Small. He trusts so fast.” Triton looked down, brows furrowed. “It scares me.”

Poseidon nodded slowly. “You’re not wrong to be scared.”

Triton swallowed. “I keep thinking about Pallas. How fast I loved her. How fast I lost her.”

Silence passed between them, soft and vast like the ocean floor.

“I know I shouldn't compare them,” Triton said. “But I am.”

Poseidon reached out, resting a firm hand on his son’s shoulder.

“You loved her,” he said. “That doesn’t go away. But this?” He looked down at Percy, nestled safely between them. “You won’t lose him.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do,” Poseidon said, voice steady. “He’s immortal now, Triton. He’s not going to disappear. He’s not going to fade.”

Triton looked at Percy, really looked, and the tiny weight of him—warm and dreaming and peaceful—settled into something deeper.

“He won’t go,” Poseidon said again. “So don’t be afraid to love him.”

Triton was quiet for a long time.

Then, gently, carefully, he shifted Crabby so Percy could curl closer against his chest.

“I think he already decided for me,” Triton said quietly.

Poseidon smiled.

“He has that effect.”

Percy stirred with a sleepy sniffle, his thumb slipping from his mouth.

He blinked once. Then again. Slowly, like the room had to load back into focus.

The first thing he saw was Crabby.

The second was Triton’s chest.

And the third—his favorite—was Daddy's face, watching him with soft eyes.

“Daddy!” Percy gasped.

He sat up so fast Crabby flopped dramatically to the side.

“You’re here!” he said, beaming as he scrambled into Poseidon’s arms without a second thought. He wrapped around his father like a barnacle, legs hooked over one hip, arms squished tight around his neck. “You came to check!”

“I did,” Poseidon said with a low laugh, holding him close. “How’s my sea star?”

Percy didn’t answer right away—he turned and wiggled dramatically to point both thumbs at Triton. “Guess what?”

“What?” Poseidon humored him.

“Twon’s my bestest friend now!”

Triton blinked, startled. “I—what?”

Percy nodded proudly. “He let me ‘splain my treasures and he passed the fish fort test and I think he’s real good at snuggles even if he’s kinda pokey in the scales.”

Poseidon looked like he might break into a full grin, but he kept his tone calm. “Is that so?”

“Yup.” Percy turned and crawled back across to plop himself right into Triton’s lap again without asking. “Now we gonna do everything.”

Triton blinked down at him as Percy began listing:

“We can swim super fast together and race dolphins and maybe fight a sea monster but only a tiny one so it don’t bite me too much. An’ we can find shiny rocks and build a pirate boat and go find treasure and eat jelly buns every day!”

Triton glanced at Poseidon like he wasn’t sure whether to look amused or terrified.

“I have plans,” Percy said very seriously. “Big brother plans.”

And then, just as quickly as he had bounced back, Percy yawned so wide it nearly unhinged his tiny face.

Poseidon chuckled, brushing his son’s hair back. “Those are excellent plans. Maybe we start after you finish your nap.”

Percy leaned against Triton’s chest again and nodded. “Mmkay. Twon can stay in my fort until then. He's allowed now.”

Triton didn’t argue.

He just slowly, gently, wrapped one arm around the boy.

And this time, it wasn’t awkward at all.

Chapter Text

The room was quiet, shadows gentle as the sea swayed outside the window.

Crabby sat tucked in Percy’s arms. His thumb was in his mouth. The blankets were warm.

But inside the fishie fort, the dream started.

He was on the beach again.

The sun was too bright.

Mommy was there, smiling—her dress flapping like sails. She waved at him, but the wind blew loud, louder than it should. Her voice didn’t sound right.

Then the wave came.

But it wasn’t a fun wave. It was big and loud and angry. It made the sky yell. It pulled her back, and she slipped and—

And the monster was there.

He saw mommy's knife flash.

He saw the red on her shirt.

She was saying something but it didn’t come out right. She looked sleepy. Too sleepy.

“Mommy?” he said in the dream. “Why you not talkin’?”

He reached for her, but the sand pulled him back.

Farther.

Farther.

And she faded like a bubble.

Percy’s eyes flew open.

His breath hitched. His chest felt too tight.

“…Mommy?” he whispered.

The fishie fort was dark.

Crabby was still here. But Mommy wasn’t. She wasn’t coming back.

A sob broke from his chest.

“Daddy!” he cried out, voice shrill and small and scared. “Daddy!!”

The sea outside shuddered.

A current whipped through the palace.

And with a sudden crack of energy, Poseidon flashed into the room.

“Percy!” he called, already reaching for the fort—ripping the kelp curtain aside as power radiated from his skin.

Percy sat upright in the middle of his bed, tears already spilling down his cheeks, reaching out with both arms.

“Daddy!!”

Poseidon scooped him up instantly, pulling him into his arms like the world was ending.

“I’m here,” Poseidon breathed. “I’ve got you, little one. I’m here.”

Percy buried his face in his chest, sobbing. “She was—she was—she go-ed away an’ I couldn’t grab her an’ the monster was there an’—an’—”

Poseidon rocked him gently, heart splitting in two. “It was a dream, little sea star. Just a dream.”

“But—but it was real before!” Percy wailed, clutching his father’s tunic. “I saw her. She faded. She really did. She—she—”

Poseidon closed his eyes, holding his son tighter, tighter, as though sheer force could keep nightmares from returning.

“I know,” he whispered. “I know, baby. I’m so sorry.”

Percy hiccupped and clung to him like a lifeline, his tiny fists shaking.

Poseidon sat down right there on the floor of the fort, cradling his child against his chest with both arms wrapped tight.

“I won’t let anything take you,” he said softly. “You’re safe. You’re mine. And I’ve got you.”

Percy didn’t respond, just curled tighter into the crook of his father’s neck, warm tears dampening his skin.

Poseidon pressed a kiss to his curls, then another, and another, as if that could banish grief entirely.

“Shhh,” he whispered, rocking gently. “You’re okay. I’m here. I’ve got you.”

Outside, the sea stilled again.

The storm passed.

But in Poseidon’s arms, Percy stayed—for a long time—until his breathing evened out, his grip softened, and the dream faded like foam on the tide.

Poseidon was sitting cross-legged on the floor of Percy’s fishie fort, with his son perched in his lap like a little starfish glued to his chest.

It had been a quiet morning after the nightmare. Percy hadn’t let go of him once, and Poseidon hadn’t asked him to.

But now came the inevitable.

“…So,” Poseidon began, brushing Percy’s curls out of his face, “we should talk about some things.”

Percy blinked up at him, thumb in mouth.

Poseidon cleared his throat. “About... who you are now. About your powers. And—”

Percy popped his thumb out. “Am I still Percy?”

Poseidon smiled. “Of course. You’re always Percy.”

“Good,” Percy said, clearly relieved. “'Cause I already telled Crabby my name and he can’t learn another one. His brain’s full.”

“…Right. Okay. So.” Poseidon tried again. “You were born a demigod. That means you had one mortal parent—your mom—and one god parent. Me.”

Percy squinted. “What's a ‘gog’?”

“God. With a ‘d.’”

Percy nodded sagely. “Gog.”

Poseidon sighed. “A god is like... someone with special powers. And a job. I’m the god of the sea, which means I take care of all the oceans and waves and sea creatures and—”

“Do you tuck the fishies into bed?”

“I—what?”

“You said you take care of them.”

“Well, no, not exactly—”

“Do you read to the dolphins?”

Poseidon blinked. “I—no, they don’t need—Percy, focus.”

Percy tilted his head. “So you’re a gog. Mommy was a... people?”

“A mortal,” Poseidon corrected gently.

Percy frowned. “But now I’m not a dem-uh-gog no more?”

“No. Because something... changed. When you got very, very upset—after the monster came—your power woke up. It’s not like a normal demigod’s. It’s stronger. You’re becoming a god. A little one. A godling.”

Percy’s eyes widened. “I’m a baby gog?!”

Poseidon pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yes. A very powerful one.”

“Do I get a job too?”

“Eventually.”

“Is it fish butler?”

“No.”

“Can I pick it?”

Poseidon opened his mouth. Then closed it. Then opened it again. “Not yet.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re still little.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s how growing up works.”

“Why?”

“Because—Percy—”

“Why?”

Poseidon let his forehead fall into his hand with a dramatic sigh. “This was easier when you were asleep.”

Just then, Amphitrite stepped into the room carrying a small plate of goldfish crackers and a cup of cool pearl milk.

“What’s going on in here?” she asked, raising a brow.

“I’m a baby gog,” Percy declared proudly.

“He’s asking about everything,” Poseidon muttered.

Percy beamed at Amphitrite. “Do I get a fish crown?”

She knelt gracefully beside them. “You will.”

“Do gogs have to eat their vegetables?”

“Yes.”

Percy frowned. “That’s dumb.”

Amphitrite gave Poseidon a pointed look. “Let me try.”

Poseidon raised both hands in surrender. “Be my guest.”

Amphitrite turned to Percy, her voice gentle but sure. “Percy, being a godling means you're part of the sea now. You’re not just a boy with a fish fort—you belong to the ocean, and it listens when you talk.”

Percy’s mouth dropped open. “Really?”

She nodded. “You’re growing into something very special. But it takes time. So while you’re still little, your Daddy and I will take care of you and help you learn what to do.”

“Even if I make big waves?”

“Yes.”

“Even if I get grumpy like Twon?”

“Especially then.”

Percy smiled brightly, then crawled over to her and offered a goldfish cracker. “You explain stuff good, Amphy.”

Poseidon raised an eyebrow. “I tried.”

Percy turned back to him. “Yeah, but you said gogs don’t read to dolphins.”

“I—!”

Amphitrite chuckled. “We’ll work on it, my husband.”

It started with an innocent request.

“Just keep an eye on him,” Poseidon had said, fastening his formal clasp as he prepared to flash to Olympus. “I won’t be long. Amphitrite is in court, and you’re the only one I trust right now.”

Triton had stared at his father like he’d been handed a ticking trident.

“You want me to babysit?”

“He adores you,” Poseidon said, completely ignoring the mild panic in his son’s voice. “Just... keep him alive.”

And with that, he vanished in a ripple of sea-light.

Five minutes later…

“Okay, so here’s the plan,” Percy whispered, crawling onto the armrest of a coral throne in the family wing like a secret agent. “New mission. Hide. Super good. No one finds me.”

Triton was halfway through his tea. “Wait, what?”

“I go now!” Percy declared.

Crabby, his beloved plush crab—worn soft from constant snuggles—wriggled just slightly on his own beside Percy.

It had started happening more lately. Little things. Crabby turning his head ever so slightly, flopping upright when he’d been laying flat. No one else seemed to notice. But Triton had—just once—eyed the plush with quiet suspicion.

Percy didn’t question it.

Crabby was real enough to him. And lately, that seemed to be working.

“Crabby, distract Twon!” Percy whispered.

Crabby rolled off the armrest and thudded dramatically to the floor, drawing Triton’s attention for a single second.

“Wait—Percy, no—”

But Percy was already gone.

Like, gone gone.

Triton searched the entire wing.

Twice.

He looked under the bed, behind the sea fern curtains, in the pillow fort, behind the jellyfish mural (which he didn’t even know could open?!). He checked the drift tunnel tubes, the echo shell closet, and even the royal fish pond.

No Percy.

“Okay,” Triton muttered, pacing in circles. “Okay. He’s three. He can’t phase through walls. Probably. Right?”

Crabby waddled by again on soft plush legs, clearly having relocated himself from the last room.

“You’re not helping!”

After the third sweep and a full minute of shouting “PERCY???” into the sea air, Triton caved.

He mind-linked his father.

Olympus — Summer Solstice Council Meeting

“—and the satyr's are requesting revised reforestation zones—”

Poseidon blinked.

Then tilted his head.

“…Did anyone else feel that?”

Zeus scowled. “If this is about fish again—”

Poseidon vanished mid-sentence in a thundercrack of seawater.

Atlantis 

Triton was hyperventilating into his hands when Poseidon flashed in, already glowing with divine panic.

“Where is he?!”

“I—I lost him!” Triton barked. “I turned my back for like ONE MINUTE and he disappeared! I looked everywhere! He’s gone! He’s—”

“BOO!!”

Both gods jumped a foot in the water.

Percy popped up from behind Triton’s back, grinning so wide his dimples practically glowed. “I so good at this game.”

Triton spun around so fast he nearly fell over. “PERCY—”

“I was under the throne the whole time,” Percy beamed. “Mission COMPLETE.”

Poseidon stared at him.

Then at Crabby, who was now sitting smugly by the throne leg… and wiggled.

Clearly wiggled.

Not rolled. Not slid. Wiggled. Two stubby plush claws lifted in what could only be described as a victory wave.

Poseidon’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Did… did your stuffed animal just move?”

Percy beamed. “Yeah! He helps with missions now. He’s real good at crawling.”

Triton leaned forward slowly, brow furrowed. “He moved on his own.”

“He does that when he’s happy,” Percy said seriously. “Or when I tell him it’s stealth mode.”

Crabby gave a little flop-flop hop.

Triton made a sound that was somewhere between a confused grunt and a panicked dolphin noise. “Is that—normal?”

Poseidon didn’t answer right away.

He stepped closer and knelt, extending a hand toward the stuffed crab. Crabby blinked one eye and clacked both claws once—politely.

Percy crawled into his father’s lap and whispered, “He only listens to me. ‘Cause I’m his captain.”

Poseidon looked down at his son.

Then at the plush crab.

Then back at his son.

“…Of course he does.”

Triton muttered something about magical toys and needing stronger tea.

Poseidon sighed deeply, kissed Percy’s head, and quietly made a mental note: Track the plush crab. Immediately.

Olympus — Summer Solstice Council Meeting

Poseidon vanished in a surge of saltwater and light, leaving nothing but a faint mist on the marble floor.

For a long moment, no one spoke.

Then—

“He dares,” Zeus thundered, rising from his throne so fast lightning sparked at his feet. “He dares walk out of a Solstice meeting without leave?”

“Well,” Hermes said, leaning back and nibbling a fig. “He left water. That’s kind of like a signature?”

“This is not a joke,” Zeus snapped.

Athena stood slowly, arms crossed over her bronze-clad chest. “He’s not known for subtlety, but this was unusually blatant—even for him.”

“Oh, don’t act surprised,” Hera said, lifting her chin. “He’s always thought the rules don’t apply to him. He enjoys making scenes.”

“He didn’t even say anything,” Zeus growled. “No warning. No message. No excuse.”

“Maybe he had to pee?” Apollo offered casually.

Hermes snorted into his drink.

Athena shot them both a look that could cleave a city in half. “His expression changed just before he vanished. Alert. Distracted. Not the face of someone abandoning a meeting out of boredom.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Ares muttered. “Anything’s more interesting than reforestation zoning.”

“I sensed something,” Hestia said quietly from her place at the hearth. Her voice wasn’t loud, but the room hushed to hear her. “A great spike of turmoil. Fear. Love. Like someone who had to return to their family.”

A long beat of silence.

“Love?” Aphrodite mused, tracing her fingertip along her goblet. “There was an unusual swell of it. Strong. Not romantic. Deeper than that. It was echoing off him the entire meeting.”

Athena frowned, ever so slightly.

Zeus gritted his teeth. “If he’s hiding something—”

“Isn’t he always?” Hermes murmured.

Zeus shot him a glare, then turned to Apollo. “You drive the sun. Keep watch.”

Then to Hermes. “And you—if he speaks with anyone, delivers anything—report it. Do not let him disappear again without consequence.”

“Sure, sure,” Hermes said, waving a lazy hand. “Definitely not like he's the god of the whole ocean and can vanish literally anywhere."

Apollo gave a small grin. “I’ll keep an eye from above.”

“Good,” Zeus snapped. “We’ll have answers soon.”

But Hestia, still seated quietly at the flames, didn’t look convinced.

She simply stared at the spot where Poseidon had vanished and whispered,

“I think… he already gave us one.”

Chapter Text

The palace gates of Atlantis opened with a deep hum, soft and regal. Coral archways bloomed apart, revealing the shining city beyond—towers of living reefstone, winding glass walkways, glowing kelp lanterns swaying with the currents.

The entire avenue beyond was already crowded.

Word had spread fast.

The king’s child. A godling. The first in ages.

Poseidon stepped out into the open, tall and commanding, his divine presence settling over the crowd like a tide.

And in his arms—was Percy.

Three years old, wide-eyed, and hugging his stuffed crab like it was going to run off.

“Are you ready?” Poseidon murmured as they walked.

Percy looked up at him, fidgeting slightly. “They all lookin’.”

“They are,” Poseidon said gently. “They’re excited to meet someone very special.”

Percy tilted his head. “Is it you?”

Poseidon chuckled. “It’s you.”

Percy made a quiet “oh” and blinked at the gathering crowd, still unsure.

Poseidon paused at the top of the coral steps and reached into his sash. He withdrew a small circlet—delicate, shaped from soft coral and pearlescent shell, adorned with tiny sea opals. It shimmered faintly in the current, humming with divine protection.

“This,” Poseidon said softly, “is for you.”

“A crown?” Percy whispered, eyes big. "It looks like yours."

Poseidon bent down and gently placed it atop his curls.

“So they know who you are.”

Percy touched it. “I’m a prince now?”

“The Sea’s Little Star,” Poseidon confirmed.

Percy grinned. “Crabby too?”

“We’ll get him one.”

As they entered the city, the crowd parted in awe.

Murmering spread like a ripple.

“The godling…”

“He’s real…”

“Poseidon has a child—blessed by the tide…”

“He’s so small.”

“So bright.”

“He has his father’s eyes.”

Atlanteans bowed. Nereids and nobles touched their brows in reverence. Some smiled; others stared in stunned silence. Children peeked out from behind legs. Guards stood straighter.

Percy blinked at all the attention—then lifted his hand and waved. “Hi!”

Laughter rippled through the front rows.

“Hello, little prince!” called a merchant.

Percy pointed at his colorful cart. “You got fishie cookies?”

“Would you like one?”

He looked to Poseidon for permission. At a nod, he clambered down his daddy and accepted a cookie, biting into it with a satisfied crunch.

“Tastes like snack time,” he declared.

Another wave of delighted laughter.

The city had never seen anything like him—a child of the sea gods, carried like treasure in their king’s arms, smiling like sunlight through waves.

Crabby peeked from under his arm, unmoving but regal. The crown shimmered softly on Percy’s head.

He was winning them over with each wave, each silly question, each accidental squeak.

But then, across the plaza, a low, resonant roar sounded.

From behind a coral platform, a ceremonial sea drake, twenty feet long and armored in bronze plating, let out a display bellow as its handler led it through a procession.

It wasn’t threatening. But it was loud. And sudden.

Percy startled—his eyes went wide.

Crabby dropped.

He let out a soft, frightened gasp and immediately ducked behind Daddy's legs, gripping his robes with both hands.

Poseidon instantly crouched, one hand on Percy’s back. “It’s alright. Just a parade beast. Nothing more.”

Percy peeked out with one eye. “It was so loud,” he whispered.

Poseidon straightened and turned toward the handler—one look, calm and royal, was enough. The drake was guided swiftly out of view.

Percy’s fingers stayed tangled in his father’s robes for a moment longer.

“Still prince?” he asked in a tiny voice.

Poseidon scooped him back up without hesitation. “Always.”

The boy curled back into his arms, Crabby retrieved and tucked safely in his grasp. After a moment, he sat up again and whispered, “I’m okay now.”

“Would you like to wave again?”

Percy nodded. “I got prince jobs to do.”

They continued their procession—Percy now perched on his father’s hip. He waved, blew bubbles, pointed out cool shells, and shouted compliments:

“Nice hair!”

“That jellyfish blinked at me!”

“Crabby says your armor’s fancy!”

By the time they reached the next street, the mood of the city had shifted entirely.

The awe was still there—but now it shimmered with joy.

The sea had a new heir. A child. A star. A promise.

And they loved him.

When Poseidon finally turned back toward the palace, Percy yawned and flopped his head dramatically onto his father’s shoulder.

“I did a big prince walk,” he mumbled sleepily. “I need naps an’ snack…”

Poseidon kissed his curls. “You’ve earned both.”

It was a quiet afternoon in Atlantis.

Which meant, as usual, Poseidon was preparing for something to go terribly, adorably wrong.

“Percy,” he said gently, lifting his son onto his hip, “I want you to meet someone very important.”

Percy squished Crabby to his chest and squinted up at the tall figure waiting near the courtyard fountain.

“This is General Delphin,” Poseidon said. “He’s going to help watch over you when me, Triton and Amphy are busy.”

Delphin bowed smoothly, armor gleaming under soft sea-light. “It’s an honor, young prince.”

Percy stared.

Delphin smiled kindly. “I’ve served your father since before you were born.”

“…You a dolphin?” Percy asked.

“I am.”

“Like... the fish?”

“A mammal, actually.”

Percy gasped. “Like a camel?!”

“No—uh, not quite.”

Percy tilted his head, squinting. “You talk fancy.”

Poseidon smiled behind his hand.

Delphin gave a warm chuckle. “You’re a bit smaller than I expected, but I’m sure you’ll grow into your title.”

Percy blinked.

Then slowly narrowed his eyes.

“…What?”

Delphin straightened. “I said you’re small. Not a bad thing—just young.”

Percy’s entire face scrunched in dramatic toddler offense.

“I not small,” he said with deep betrayal. “I got a crown. An’ Crabby. And a fish fort.”

Delphin blinked. “I didn’t mean—”

“You think I can’t do spy stuff,” Percy muttered.

“Not at all—”

“Don’t worry,” Percy interrupted gravely. “I get it. You one of those fish guards who don’t believe in missions.”

Poseidon’s brow lifted. “Percy…”

“I go now,” Percy declared, clutching Crabby and dramatically turning his back. “Me and Crabby got plans.”

Delphin looked to Poseidon, lost.

“What just happened?”

Poseidon shrugged. “You may have insulted his entire operation.”

“…He has an operation?”

“Almost constantly.”

Later That Day…

Delphin opened the door to his quarters and froze.

Inside:

• His boots were stuffed with wet sand and glittery shells.
• His armor had been rearranged on its rack to resemble a silly face.
• A trail of sea star stickers had been pressed into his walls.
• And on his neatly made bed sat a scroll, unrolled and written in crayon:

“DO NOT CALL ME SMOL. I SEEE YOU. —PRINS PERSY AND CRABBY”

The “S”s were backwards. Crabby’s name was underlined three times.

Delphin stared at it.

Long and hard.

“I’ve been... challenged,” he whispered.

Poseidon passed in the hallway, took one look at the scene, and gave a very tired but amused smile.

“He didn’t glue anything this time. I’d consider it a win.”

“You warned me he was spirited,” Delphin muttered.

“I warned you he was mine,” Poseidon corrected, and kept walking.

Meanwhile, down the hallway…

Percy peered from behind a coral column, whispering to Crabby.

“We did it. He knows now. Don’t call me small.”

Crabby flopped proudly in agreement.

Percy beamed. “Kay. Phase two starts tomorrow.”

Atlantis was in chaos.

Not war. Not rebellion. Not even another sea serpent migration.

No, this chaos was pint-sized, barefoot, and currently using a royal conch shell as a battering ram to attack Lord Delphin’s boots.

“Your Highness, the child is feral!” Delphin sputtered, hopping back as little Percy Jackson let out a war cry and threw a handful of sea urchins like grenades. “He just bit me!”

“I’m sure he didn’t mean it,” Poseidon said mildly, lounging on his coral throne with a goblet of kelp wine and zero urgency.

Delphin pointed to the very clear bite mark on his hand.

Poseidon didn’t even glance at it. “He’s teething. It’s developmentally appropriate.”

“He stuffed a crab in my armor.”

“Exploring his environment. So curious.”

“He called me a—” Delphin paused, flushed. “He called me a ‘soggy turnip.’”

At this, Poseidon raised an eyebrow. “That’s creative. My little linguist. Did you come up with that all on your own, my pearl?”

Toddler Percy, barefoot and sticky with honeyed kelp, blinked up at his father with big sea-glass green eyes and chirped, “He smelt funny.”

Poseidon smiled like the sun rising over calm tides. “That’s my boy.”

Delphin made a strangled sound. “He flooded the west wing with fish!”

Poseidon’s smile widened. “Accident.”

“He rode a hippocampus into the banquet hall and screamed, ‘I am the sea now!’ while throwing squid!”

“Expression of self-confidence.”

“He knocked over Lady Penelope's sand sculpture—on purpose.”

Poseidon’s voice dropped, cool and low. “She scolded him first.”

“She told him not to put coral in his mouth!”

“He is teething, Delphin.”

The general looked ready to cry.

At that exact moment, Percy returned to wreak more havoc by cannonballing off a balcony and bellyflopping into the ornamental lagoon at the center of the throne room.

The splash soaked half the nobles.

Poseidon burst into delighted applause. “Perfect form!”

The nobles stared. Delphin twitched.

Percy popped his head out of the magical lagoon water back into the sea of the throne room, seaweed clinging to his curls, and blew a raspberry that echoed like a warhorn.

“You’re raising a menace,” Amphitrite muttered from her chaise, sipping her seafoam tea.

Poseidon kissed her temple without taking his eyes off Percy, who was now attempting to climb a marble pillar with the single-minded focus of a barnacle. “I’m raising a future king.”

“He’s licking the walls.”

“Advanced mineral sampling.”

“He’s drawing on the ancient mosaics with inkfish.”

“Artistic prodigy.”

Amphitrite raised an eyebrow as Percy launched himself off the pillar—only to be caught mid-air by a whirlpool Poseidon summoned with a casual flick of his fingers. The baby shrieked in glee as he spun around like a cyclone before plopping back onto his father’s lap, triumphant and soaked.

Poseidon tucked him against his chest and handed him a coral cookie. “My little typhoon.”

Percy's fingers burrowed into his father’s beard and mumbled, “You’re the best, Daddy.”

Poseidon melted into a puddle of fatherly pride.

Delphin, covered in ink, sighed. “Permission to be reassigned to the Kraken post?”

“No,” Poseidon said serenely, “you’re doing a wonderful job helping Percy develop his confidence.”

Percy threw another squid at Delphin’s face.

Poseidon clapped. “Ten points!”

Chapter Text

The coral gates of the Atlantean stables opened with a soft creak, revealing row after row of arching reefs and open chambers teeming with life. Soft-glowing shells lined the walkways, casting ribbons of shifting light through the water.

Poseidon held Percy close as they entered, one arm wrapped around his squirming, excited toddler. Crabby was clutched tightly in Percy’s other hand.

“Where are we?” Percy whispered.

“The stables,” Poseidon said. “Where many of our creatures live.”

Percy’s eyes grew wide as they passed a hippocampus, its scaled tail glinting with silver as it swam past.

“Fishy horse!” he shouted, delighted.

“That’s Seabrush, a hippocampus,” Poseidon said fondly. “He likes apples.”

A group of turtles drifted lazily nearby, followed by fluttering manta rays overhead.

Percy waved at each one in turn. “Hi turtle! Hi floaty flappers!”

A stable worker bowed as they passed but kept a respectful distance. Behind them, curious eyes peeked from coral towers and tunnels as whispers passed through the water.

The godling prince.

Heir of the sea.

Then the current shifted.

From one of the larger chambers ahead, several sleek figures emerged—powerful, silent, and fast. Sharks.

Other stable hands paused, their movements respectful.

Percy’s entire body tensed with excitement.

“Ooooh…”

Three large sharks drifted forward, curious. One swam directly toward them—easily the size of a small chariot—and gently bumped Poseidon’s side with its snout like a dog nudging for attention.

Percy squeaked. “He booped you!”

Poseidon grinned and gave the shark a slow pat along the side. “They’re saying hello.”

The shark turned and floated alongside them, brushing against Poseidon’s shoulder like a giant, overgrown sea puppy. Percy reached out and grabbed a fin.

“Hi fish puppy,” he whispered. Then Percy booped him on the nose.

Another shark came close, circling Percy with a soft swish of its tail.

“They like you,” Poseidon said.

Percy giggled, burying his face into Poseidon's shoulder for a second before popping back out.

“I be like them!”

Poseidon looked down just in time to see his son grin—

—and saw it.

Shark teeth.

Small, triangular rows. Shiny. Sharp. Still somehow… adorable.

Percy touched his teeth and then clapped his hands. “Look, Daddy! I got teeth like them! I a sharky prince now!”

Poseidon blinked, stunned for half a second, then broke into a wide, proud smile.

“You are, little one.”

Percy flailed his arms in the water, kicking toward the nearest shark. “Chomp chomp! Raaa!”

The shark rolled onto its side, nuzzling his hand gently.

“I name him Toofy,” Percy declared. “He’s my shark now.”

Poseidon let out a warm, rumbling laugh and pulled him close.

“You’re something else,” he said, kissing the tip of Percy’s nose. “My little sea star. My fierce shark prince.”

Percy beamed, flashing all those new teeth. “I still good guy though. Just with chomps.”

“Of course you are,” Poseidon said, and the sharks swam alongside them like companions, loyal and playful in a way they never were with anyone else.

"Now let's go meet Triton for your riding lessons."

“Alright, little barnacle,” Triton said, arms crossed as he waited beside a sleek coral platform in the royal stables. He watched as his father walked back towards the palace. “Time to ride.”

Percy squinted up at him from where he was sitting cross-legged on the sea floor, petting Crabby with one hand and a shark with the other. “Ride what?”

Triton gestured to the beautiful silver-blue hippocampus being gently held by a pair of stable hands. “That.”

Percy blinked. “That’s not Toofy.”

“No. That’s Seastar.” Triton raised a brow. “Your official hippocampus mount. Regal. Fast. Trained.”

“She looks slippy.”

“She’s magnificent,” Triton corrected. “Now up you go.”

Percy gave Crabby a suspicious look. “You think she bite?”

Triton groaned. “She won’t bite. She’s more disciplined than half the court.”

Grumbling, Percy allowed himself to be lifted into the saddle. His legs barely reached halfway down the creature’s back.

Triton adjusted the reins and turned back to explain posture—but froze mid-sentence.

Percy smiled at him.

With teeth.

Shark teeth.

Triton stared. “…What happened to your face?”

Percy beamed. “I a sharky now!”

“That—” Triton blinked. “That is not normal.”

“Daddy said it’s cool!”

“I—what—does your mouth hurt?”

“Nope!” Percy chomped the air twice. “Raaah! I bite stuff but gentle.”

Triton made a face like he needed a long, long nap.

“Alright. Just—focus on riding, not biting.”

To Seastar’s credit, the hippocampus behaved perfectly.

To Percy’s credit… he lasted a solid nineteen seconds.

Then Seastar turned too quickly, and Percy wobbled, shrieked, and fell off with a slow-motion plop into the seaweed below.

Triton darted over instantly. “Are you hurt?!”

Percy floated upward with his arms crossed, pouting so hard it could have sunk a ship.

“She mean.”

“She wasn’t—”

“I no like her.”

“Percy—”

“I ride Toofy now.” He lifted a finger like it was a royal decree. “He nice. He smile. He never throw me.”

“Percy, Toofy is a shark”

“He’s a good boy!” Percy shouted.

A moment later, from the far end of the stables, Toofy swam slowly into view—tail wagging, tongue somehow flopping slightly. Triton was sure that sharks didn't do that.

Triton stared in disbelief. “Did you just call him here?”

“He my best friend,” Percy said seriously, now floating toward the shark. “Hippopomps are rude.”

“It’s hippocampus,” Triton corrected.

Percy gave him a judgmental toddler stare.

“You say she no bite,” he said softly. “But she made da ground bite my butt.”

Triton sighed heavily and looked up toward the sea above. “I’m losing a student to a shark.”

Percy grinned—teeth sharp and proud. “Shark school’s better.”

Toofy made a pleased blub and began circling Percy like a happy sea puppy.

Triton muttered something about divine chaos and regretting everything.

“Alright,” Triton said, hands on his hips as he hovered beside the training reef. “You win. We’re doing shark riding.”

Percy cheered from where he was sprawled across Toofy’s back, tiny hands gripping the dorsal fin, Crabby tucked under one arm.

“I’m ready!”

“You are not,” Triton muttered. “You’re laying sideways.”

“I’m snuggling,” Percy replied proudly. “He soft.”

“He’s a shark.”

“He’s my friend.”

Triton exhaled through his nose and tapped the reef with the butt of his trident. “Lesson one: balance. Sit up straight.”

Percy slowly sat up. For about three seconds.

Then he hugged Toofy’s fin and smooshed his face into the shark’s smooth back. “Good Toofy. Best Toofy.”

Triton sighed. “This was supposed to be about discipline. Not play time.”

Toofy gave a happy tail wag.

“Okay,” Percy declared suddenly. “We ready now.”

“For what?”

Percy sat upright like a tiny warrior and pulled a stick from behind his back—fashioned crudely from coral, with little side prongs like a mini trident.

Triton blinked. “Where did you—?”

Percy raised the stick high. “We charge!!”

“Percy—no, wait—”

But it was too late.

Toofy lunged forward with gleeful speed, carrying his tiny rider straight at Triton.

“GET TWON!”

“WHAT—?!”

Triton yelped and dodged, barely avoiding a very enthusiastic shark who was clearly treating this as the best game ever invented. Percy whooped from Toofy’s back, holding his little trident aloft like a conquering sea king.

“I GOTS YOU NOW!!”

“FATHER!” Triton shouted mid-swim. “CONTROL YOUR CHILD!”

From the far arch of the courtyard, Poseidon and Amphitrite had just arrived to check in on the lesson.

They came upon what could only be described as chaos.

Percy, was grinning wide and sharp-toothed, riding a giant shark at full speed. Toofy was chasing Triton in wild figure-eights around the coral pillars.

What was more shocking was Triton yelling and actually swimming away, obviously forgetting he could just stop the shark with a divine command, and Percy waving a toddler-sized coral trident like a flag of war.

Poseidon burst out laughing.

Amphitrite tried—truly tried—to maintain queenly composure. She made it about four seconds.

Then she wheezed, doubled over in laughter, clutching Poseidon’s arm as tears formed at the corners of her eyes.

“This—this is what you trained him for?” she gasped at Triton, who was now hiding behind a kelp column.

“He ambushed me!”

“I shark now!” Percy yelled. “I RULE THE SEA!”

Toofy circled around in victory, clearly pleased with himself.

Poseidon wiped a tear away and shook his head. “That’s my boy.”

Later that afternoon, Poseidon sat in Percy’s fish fort, watching his son use kelp strands to decorate Crabby’s pincers like battle gauntlets.

“Little one,” he said gently. “We need to talk.”

Percy looked up immediately. “We talkin’ ‘bout snacks or misshuns?”

“…Neither.”

Percy’s face squished in suspicion.

Poseidon cleared his throat. “You can’t chase your brother around the palace on a shark anymore.”

Percy froze. “What.”

“No more Toofy attacks on Triton,” Poseidon repeated. “It’s dangerous.”

“BUT IT’S TRAINING!”

Poseidon arched a brow. “For what exactly?”

“My misshuns!” Percy said, arms flailing. “I gots to do chase-practice! How else I learn to zoom an’ roar an’ surprise the enemy?!”

“Toofy is not for zooming,” Poseidon said calmly. “And Triton is not the enemy.”

Percy crossed his arms and turned Crabby upside down in protest.

Poseidon sighed. “You nearly knocked over a whole coral guard tower.”

“I MISSED!”

“That’s not—”

“Okay,” Percy cut in, eyes suddenly wide. “I know! I got a great idea.”

Poseidon raised a wary brow. “…I’m listening.”

Percy leaned in close. “What if…” he lowered his voice to a whisper, “…I chase the dolphin guy instead?”

Poseidon blinked. “…Delphin?”

“YEAH!” Percy lit up. “He’s got flippers and sometimes feets, an’ he’s fast an’ also he called me small so technically this is more payback and training!”

Poseidon tried very hard not to smile. “Percy…”

Percy widened his eyes. They shimmered like dew on sea glass. He clutched Crabby close and blinked—twice—then tilted his head ever so slightly to the side.

Percy's secret weapon. The baby seal eyes.

Poseidon groaned softly. “Not fair.”

Percy scooted closer and gave a tiny sniffle. “But how I learn to defend you, Daddy…so you won't get hurt like mommy did.”

Poseidon's heart cracked hearing his darling baby worried about such a thing. He reached down and lifted his son into his arms.

"Remember we talked about this, my sea star, I am a god and immortal. Nothing will happen to me."

Percy looked at him with evaluating eyes, "I still need to practice for my misshuns, Daddy. You could still get hurted and I a gog and can protect you."

Poseidon looked at the ceiling like it might offer salvation. Then back down at his son’s squishy, pouty face.

“…Fine,” he muttered. “You may chase Delphin—gently—if he agrees.”

“YES!!”

“Toofy must stay below palace level. And no charging near the marketplace.”

“I’M GONNA BE THE FASTEST SEA NINJA EVER!!”

Poseidon pinched the bridge of his nose as Percy scrambled off, shouting for Crabby to prepare battle drills and hunting for his stick-trident.

From across the hall, Amphitrite’s voice drifted in:

“Did you just approve another shark ambush?”

Poseidon sighed. “It’s a… limited ambush.”

There was a long pause.

“…On Delphin?”

“…Yes.”

A quiet laugh. “I’ll alert the healers.”

Delphin didn’t flinch when Percy appeared in front of him.

He’d learned that lesson the hard way.

“Hi, Dolphin man,” Percy grinned.

Delphin tensed. “Hello, young prince.”

“I gots a thing to show you.”

“...Is it dangerous?”

“Noooo,” Percy said sweetly. Then grinned wide. “Look!”

Delphin stared.

Rows of sharp, perfect little shark teeth beamed up at him from Percy’s too-innocent face.

Delphin’s smile went stiff. “When… did that happen?”

“Yesterday!” Percy chirped. “I’m sharky now!”

A nervous laugh. “Oh. That’s… cool.”

Percy tilted his head, blinking with pretend sweetness. “I bite real gentle now. Promise.”

Delphin took a step back instinctively.

“I not bitin’ you now,” Percy added helpfully. “You safe right now.”

Another step back. “That’s very comforting.”

Right then, Delphin backed straight into something large, solid, and alive.

He turned slowly.

A massive shark was floating behind him, unblinking, very close, and very happy to be here.

“Hi Toofy!” Percy squeaked. “You snuck up again!”

Delphin made a choking noise.

“Dolphin man,” Percy said with serious authority, “this is my bestest friend, Toofy. He’s my shark.”

Toofy wagged his tail.

“He says hi.”

“I see that,” Delphin replied, inching sideways.

“Can you help me up?” Percy asked, sweetly.

Delphin hesitated. “Up… onto the shark?”

“Uh-huh!”

Delphin looked around for backup. There was none. With a sigh, he gently lifted Percy onto Toofy’s back, where the boy plopped down and hugged the fin like it was a plushie.

“You a fast swimmer?” Percy asked suddenly.

“I mean… I’ve led royal battalion for—yes. Yes, I’m fast.”

“Good,” Percy grinned.

Delphin blinked. “Why is that good?”

Percy raised his toddler trident.

“CHARGEEEEEEE!”

Toofy took off like a torpedo.

Delphin screamed and swam like his immortal life depended on it.

Percy shrieked with laughter the whole way.

Chapter Text

Triton hadn’t meant to leave Percy alone.

It had been a training demonstration—nothing formal, just a cluster of older cadets sparring with current control in the practice ring. Percy had wanted to be with Triton and was currently sitting off to the side with Crabby, watching wide-eyed, looking like he was plotting how to sneak into the next match.

“I can do that,” Percy whispered under his breath. “I got fish muscles.”

Triton had warned the cadets once already. “Be careful. He’s the prince.”

They’d all nodded.

He turned his back for ten seconds—just to retrieve a fallen trident.

That was all it took.

A burst of current. A sharp laugh.

A shriek.

When Triton spun around, he didn’t register the blood. Not yet. Just Percy, curled on the floor, sobbing. Crabby was lying discarded beside him, his tiny arm tucked against his chest at a strange angle.

One of the older cadets was still grinning.

“He wanted to play,” the boy shrugged. “Said he was strong. We were just showing him he’s not.”

Triton saw red.

He didn’t speak.

He didn’t yell.

He launched.

The smirking boy went flying backward into a coral post with a very satisfying crack, while the others scattered in a panic.

Triton barely noticed.

He dropped to his knees beside Percy, scooping him up carefully.

“I got you, I got you—gods—”

The little boy clung to his chest, face blotchy and wet, hiccuping through cries of pain. “I-I f-fell… I twied t’stop it…”

Triton looked down at the bruises blooming along Percy’s back. His arm was limp. His lip was bleeding. His crown was cracked. He wasn't healing.

Panic hit like a thunderclap.

“I’m taking you to Father,” he whispered. “Right now.”

The palace trembled.

A quake of pressure rippled through the coral walls—not from war, not from magic. It was worse.

It was Poseidon.

His rage boiled the water around him, glowing cracks forming in the marble floor beneath his throne. His trident pulsed with a furious blue light, the tide itself straining to obey his anger.

And in Triton’s arms…was a sobbing, bruised three-year-old.

“T-they pushed him,” Triton stammered, his own face pale. “Threw him with currents. He hit the pillar. I—I think his arm’s hurt.”

Poseidon was in front of him before the last word left his son’s mouth.

“Give him to me.”

Triton didn’t hesitate.

The moment Poseidon’s arms closed around Percy, the little boy latched on like a frightened octopus. His small hands clutched at Poseidon’s seafoam-green tunic, and he buried his face in the god’s chest.

“D-daddy…” Percy hiccupped. “It huwt…”

Poseidon’s voice dropped into something deadly soft. “I know, little one. I got you. Daddy’s here.”

“Bad boys was mean,” Percy whimpered. “Said I’s not ‘portant. Said I’s jus’ a baby.”

“You are my baby,” Poseidon growled, cradling him close. “And that makes you more important than the whole ocean.”

Percy sniffled. “They push’d me. I say stop, but they laughted.”

Poseidon’s arms tightened.

“I will find them.”

Triton straightened. “I already sent guards—”

“I said I will find them.” His voice cracked the water like thunder. “If they so much as breath another word about him, they’ve sealed their fate.”

Little Percy flinched, whimpering again, and Poseidon’s rage snapped inward, crushed under protective instinct. He curled around Percy like a hurricane shielding its eye.

“I’m not mad at you, sweet sea,” he whispered into his hair. “Never you. Just mad at bad fish.”

Percy peeked up, watery green eyes huge. “You stay wif me?”

Poseidon pressed his lips to Percy’s curls. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The healers tried.

And failed.

Every time one got close, Percy screamed, “No! No touch! Only Daddy!”

Poseidon didn’t argue. He waved them off and healed the tiny, limp arm himself with a warm pulse of divine water. Percy was still young and had not learned how to heal himself with the water.

Percy stayed glued to him the entire time, little legs wrapped around his waist, arms around his neck.

“You okay now?” Poseidon asked gently when the healing glow faded.

Percy sniffled. “No.”

Poseidon chuckled softly. “Do you wanna lay down?”

“No.”

“Do you wanna eat?”

“No.”

“…Do you wanna be put down?”

Percy tightened his grip and shook his head violently. “Never!”

Poseidon adjusted his grip and stood with Percy still wrapped around him like a living baby blanket. “Alright then. Daddy’s got you.”

He cancelled the rest of his day.

Council meetings? Gone.

Trade negotiations? Postponed.

An advisor tried to argue—and got hit with such a wave of divine pressure that they vomited seawater and left in tears.

“His Majesty is busy,” Triton said flatly, blocking the door.

Inside the royal chambers, Poseidon lay stretched out on the massive bed, holding his barnacle baby.

Percy had stopped crying but made no move to detach. His tiny fists gripped Poseidon’s beard, his curls damp against his shoulder.

Poseidon stroked his back with slow, soothing motions. “You’re safe now, little one. Nobody can touch you here.”

Percy mumbled, “You’re big.”

“I’m very big.”

“You smush bad guys?”

“Oh, I’m going to do worse than smush them.”

Percy giggled tiredly.

Then whispered, “I love you.”

Poseidon’s chest ached.

He pulled the blanket over them both, kissed the top of Percy’s head, and said, “I love you more than the sea itself.”

The next day…

Word spread like an oil slick through Atlantis: Don’t touch the Sea Prince. Don’t look at him wrong. Don’t think about being mean.

The cadets who had hurt him?

Found. Dragged before the throne. And Poseidon didn’t even raise his voice.

No, he spoke in a whisper that turned the water cold.

“You thought it would be funny. To hurt a toddler. Not just any toddler, but my. child.”

They stammered, begged, cried.

Poseidon didn’t kill them.

But their powers? Gone. Stripped. Their status? Revoked. They were cast out of the city forever with nothing but sea packs and kelp bread. None from the sea were to offer aid.

And when Percy heard about it?

He looked up at his daddy from his throne-side cuddle pillow and whispered, “They go ‘way?”

Poseidon smiled. “They’re not allowed near you ever again.”

Percy nodded, then curled back into his chest. “Okay. I stay wif you now.”

“For as long as you want.”

“’Til I big?”

“Longer than that.”

“’Til I old?”

Poseidon chuckled. “For always, little one. You’ll always be my baby.”

Poseidon’s trident glinted in his hand as he approached the outer training rings—but his other arm held something far more precious than any weapon.

Percy.

The little godling was wrapped around his father’s torso like a decorative barnacle, nose buried in the seafoam-green folds of his tunic, one thumb in his mouth and Crabby tucked firmly under the other arm.

“You don’t have to come,” Poseidon murmured as they passed through the coral gates. “You can stay with Amphitrite or Triton.”

Percy’s voice was muffled. “No.”

“You sure?”

“I go where you go.” A little tighter. “You safe.”

Poseidon’s heart pinched. He nodded. “Alright then. My little barnacle it is.”

The training fields, usually buzzing with laughter, shouting, and the clash of currents, fell silent as the king arrived.

Not because of Poseidon.

Because of the tiny prince clinging to his shoulder.

Every warrior, instructor, and cadet on the field turned pale. The air in the water thickened.

He’s here.

The little Sea Prince.

The one who got hurt.

The one the king nearly shattered the palace over.

Weapons lowered. Nods turned into full bows. Even the dolphins in the distance stopped playing.

Percy peeked up with one wide green eye. “Why they all lookin’ weird?”

“They’re just showing respect,” Poseidon said. “To you.”

“Why me?”

“Because you’re important. And strong. And their prince.”

Percy blinked. Then quietly said, “I do my job now.”

Poseidon raised a brow. “Job?”

“I help ‘spect. Like you do.”

He reached into the folds of his shirt and pulled out his coral stick-trident.

Of course he brought it.

Poseidon bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. “Alright, Commander Barnacle. Let’s begin.”

They moved slowly along the perimeter.

Poseidon walked tall, his aura regal.

Percy sat upright in his arms, trying to match the posture, stick-trident in hand, newly crafted crown on his head, looking very serious for someone with seaweed stuck in his curls.

As they passed the first group of cadets, Percy raised his trident slightly.

“That one’s foot pokin’ out,” he whispered. “Not lined up.”

Poseidon nodded gravely. “Good eye.”

The cadet in question nearly passed out.

Next group. “That one’s wiggly. They should stand stiller.”

“Excellent note.”

The commander straightened so hard he cracked his back.

One poor instructor smiled a little too brightly at Percy—and the toddler pointed his stick directly at him.

“You got glitter on your armor!”

“It’s—it's ceremonial kelp dust—”

“Looks silly.”

The instructor turned beet-red and saluted. “Yes, Your Highness.”

By the time they reached the third ring, Percy was feeling bold.

He started mimicking Poseidon’s serious expression—eyebrows down, chin lifted slightly. It made him look more adorable than a ruler, but the warriors still nodded like he’d just passed judgment.

Poseidon couldn’t help it.

He was proud.

So proud.

Then it happened.

Behind them, a cadet misfired a current burst. It cracked against a training dummy with a loud WHUMP, sending a shockwave through the water.

Percy flinched hard. His little body went stiff. His arms squeezed around Poseidon’s neck like a vice.

The king froze.

And the water around them shifted.

Pressure spiked. The current thickened. Cracks spiderwebbed through a coral column. The training field dropped into a terrifying silence.

Poseidon’s expression went cold. Regal. Lethal.

He turned, slowly, trident flaring with light.

The cadet dropped to his knees.

“I—I didn’t mean too—I swear—please—”

Percy’s tiny fingers tugged on his father’s tunic. His voice was shaky.

“Daddy…”

Poseidon didn’t look away from the cadet. “You frightened him.”

“I didn’t mean to—”

“You nearly—”

“Daddy…”

Poseidon’s voice faltered.

Percy lifted his head from his father’s shoulder and touched his cheek.

“I okay now.”

Poseidon finally looked at him.

Tears still clung to his lashes, but Percy was trying to be brave. “I just got scared. Not hurt. You don’t gotta smush him.”

Poseidon exhaled, the sea easing with his breath. The cracks in the coral mended.

He reached up and brushed Percy’s curls back. “You sure?”

Percy nodded. “I still wanna do ‘spectin’.”

Poseidon smiled softly. “Then let’s finish it.”

The cadet who had panicked nearly wept in relief.

By the time they reached the end of the field, Percy had declared two drills “too splashy,” one battle cry “too scary,” and one soldier “too tall.”

“Can’t see his face. He needs to crouch.”

And he did.

Percy pointed to a cadet that had a starfish on their helmet.

“This one’s got sticker fish.”

“Shall we promote them?” Poseidon asked.

“Only if it gives me snackies.”

Poseidon grinned. “We’ll put him under review.”

When they finished, Percy leaned heavily against his father’s shoulder, his little trident limp in his grip.

“You did good work today,” Poseidon said. “Very brave.”

“I’m gonna do ‘spectin’ all the days,” Percy mumbled. “Wif you.”

“You can inspect the whole sea, if you want.”

“Gonna make it safe,” Percy whispered sleepily. “For peoples. And fishies. And Daddy.”

Poseidon hugged him close. “You already do, little pearl. You already do.”

Poseidon sat proudly at the head of the long coral table in the strategy chamber, Percy in his lap.

The council had been gathered—not the full royal council, just the handful of trusted military commanders and instructors. And Delphin, of course, seated near the front with a scroll ready, quill hovering in the water.

Percy, wearing his crooked little pearl crown and clutching his stick-trident, was ready.

“Alright, Commander Barnacle,” Poseidon said gently. “You may share your findings.”

Percy cleared his throat. Loudly.

“I do ‘spectin’ with Daddy. We checked all the fish soldiers. Real good.”

Delphin nodded solemnly. “Understood.”

“I gots three big report notes,” Percy said, holding up two fingers.

Poseidon lifted one of his fingers to make three and then whispered, “Findings.”

“Three big find-things.”

Delphin began scribbling immediately.

“One: Some fishies don’t hold their feet straight. They wiggle. Makes the line go crooked. This is bad.”

Delphin nodded seriously. “Lack of form. Very dangerous.”

“Two: One guy got glitter armor. No reason. Distractin’.”

Delphin was already writing "glitter protocol to be reviewed—potential hazard."

“Three: One cadet had sticker fish on helmet. I say promote. No snackies given. Review again later.”

Poseidon choked back a laugh.

Percy leaned closer to the table. “But mostly… everythin’ good.”

He turned his wide green eyes to Delphin.

“You did good. You write real fast. You didn’t call me small today. That’s better.”

Delphin, looking deeply relieved, bowed slightly. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

Percy tapped his tiny coral trident against the table. “You don’t need more paybacks now.”

Poseidon’s brows lifted slightly. “Paybacks?”

Percy nodded seriously. “Delphin learned his lesson. I decided.”

Delphin looked like he’d just been granted parole by a sea godling—which, in fairness, he had.

“Just so you know,” Percy added, pointing two chubby fingers at his eyes and then at Delphin, “I’m watchin’ you.”

Delphin swallowed. “Understood, my prince.”

“Forever.”

Poseidon gently cleared his throat to stop from laughing again.

“Commander Barnacle,” he said with all the gravity of a general addressing their prince, “thank you for your thorough and fearless assessment of our forces.”

Percy beamed. “I’m real good at ‘spectin.’”

“Very good,” Poseidon said, pressing a kiss into his son's curls. “Atlantis is safer with you watching.”

And in the corner, Delphin was quietly updating his training protocols—because whether it came from a toddler or a god, he wasn’t about to question royal protocol—even if it involved promoting cadets for having starfish on their helmets.

Chapter Text

The council was in session.

Serious. Formal. Political.

Which meant, obviously, it was about to be derailed.

The doors to the chamber slammed open and a very small child stomped in wearing one of Triton’s old military sashes—which reached past his knees. A bronze helmet two sizes too big, wobbling with every step, and his coral stick-trident tucked into his back.

“’TENTION!!” Percy bellowed in his three-year-old voice.

The entire room froze.

Triton blinked. “Oh no.”

“I’ma ’fficial now!” Percy declared, puffing out his chest. “I do more missions!”

Poseidon, lounging on his throne, placed one hand over his heart like he’d just been blessed by the ocean itself. “Is that so, little commander?”

Percy nodded so hard his helmet thunked down over his eyes.

“Yuh-huh! I’m like Twon. I walk big. I talk ‘portant. I don’t even take naps.”

“You also glued cereal to your sash this morning,” Amphitrite murmured, trying not to smile.

“Is my medal,” Percy replied proudly.

Triton dragged a hand down his face. “Did you… did you sneak into my closet again?”

“I borrow’d it,” Percy said matter-of-factly. “I’m strong now. Like you.”

That earned a few soft chuckles around the room—and more than one misty-eyed noble.

“What kind of hero work are you doing today, Commander Barnacle?” Poseidon asked, voice warm and amused.

Percy narrowed his eyes at Delphin. “I protect Daddy.”

Delphin, recently forgiven for crimes like calling the little prince small slid down in his seat a little.

Poseidon looked utterly enchanted. “My mighty little guard shark.”

“I bite bad guys,” Percy added, flashing his sharky teeth.

“Yes, you do,” Poseidon agreed proudly.

“Please don’t encourage that,” Triton muttered.

Percy marched right up the steps to the throne and climbed into Poseidon’s lap—sash, trident, and all—then patted his father’s cheek with one tiny hand. “You safe now.”

“I feel very safe,” Poseidon said solemnly. “Guarded by the fiercest barnacle in all the sea.”

“Y’mine,” Percy added to the room. “No touch Daddy.”

Triton leaned toward Amphitrite. “He gets this possessiveness from father.”

“He gets everything good from me,” Poseidon said smugly, cradling his son.

Later that day…

Atlantis was in chaos.

Not from war. Not from seaquakes.

From Percy.

Reports trickled in:

He was shouting fake orders at palace guards—“Go smash the krakens! But gentle smash, okay?”

He’d been spotted holding a piece of kelp like a walkie-talkie and yelling, “Twon, come in! We got jelly alert!”

He’d also taken over a underwater tide pool, yelling, “I’M DA BOSS!” while the eels and crabs fled in fear.

Poseidon didn’t stop him.

No one did.

The Sea God even commissioned a “Commander Barnacle” badge, which Percy wore with pride.

To bed. To bathtime.

Even when he tried sneaking into the strategy chamber and declared, “We need more boom booms!”

Poseidon swept him up with a fond sigh. “Only Daddy gets to use boom booms, little one.”

“I help,” Percy insisted, arms tight around his neck.

“You are helping,” Poseidon said, nose-to-nose giving eskimo kisses to his son. “You’re the heart of Atlantis.”

Percy blinked. “What dat mean?”

“It means,” Poseidon said softly, “you’re the best part of all of this. You make the sea smile.”

Percy beamed and snuggled in. “You my favorite.”

“And you’re mine.”

Training Grounds, Next Morning

Percy waddled out wearing his badge, sash, and a new baby-sized trident Poseidon had crafted after caving to Percy's baby seal eyes, strapped to his back.

He stopped in front of a group of guards and cleared his throat. Loudly.

“I fight monsters now.”

One of the guards nearly fainted.

He tried lifting a training spear, got pulled forward and landed face-first in the sand.

He stood up, covered in grit, scowled at the spear, and yelled, “Bad stick! You fired!!”

Poseidon, who had shadowed him from behind, lifted him easily and twirled him midair. “Did the bad stick attack you?”

“Yuh,” Percy huffed. “Need better pointy stick.”

“You’ll get the best in the ocean,” Poseidon promised.

Triton stood nearby, pretending not to laugh.

He failed.

Evening

After a long day of “protecting Atlantis” (translation: chasing eels, commanding turtles, and throwing kelp balls at royal guards from behind columns), Percy curled up on the throne with Poseidon.

His sash and crown were lopsided. His badge sticky. His baby trident lay discarded nearby.

He yawned and rubbed his eyes with his fists. “Did good work.”

“You did amazing,” Poseidon whispered, brushing his damp curls back. “Triton’s got competition.”

“’M better.”

“Oh, no doubt.”

“Daddy?”

“Yes, seashell?”

“Next mission… you come wif me?”

“Always.”

“Even if scary?”

“Especially if it’s scary.”

Percy snuggled deeper against his chest. “You best Daddy.”

Poseidon kissed the top of his head. “And you’ll always be my best boy.”

Triton was used to commanding armies, navigating political storms, and holding his own against deep-sea monsters.

He was not used to being stalked by a determined toddler.

He didn’t notice at first.

He left his quarters with a sigh, his mind already on the upcoming military strategy review. He adjusted the strap of his trident harness, swam down the hall with practiced ease—and then heard it.

Clink.

Clank.

Clonk.

He turned slowly.

Percy was following exactly three strokes behind him, decked out in full Commander Barnacle regalia: sash, badge, toy trident strapped to his back, and his helmet (which was, once again, too big and kept sliding over his eyes).

“...Are you following me?” Triton asked.

Percy froze mid-step. Then nodded. “Uh-huh.”

“Why?”

“I’m practicin’.”

“For what?”

“To be you.”

Triton blinked. “Why?”

“Cuz you cool,” Percy said simply. “You stand big. You swim fast. And you got big stick.”

Triton looked down at his actual divine weapon, then at Percy’s trident.

“Right.”

“I gonna do all the stuffs you do,” Percy continued, straightening his back and taking exaggerated slow strides behind him. “I be very twained.”

Triton sighed. “You don’t have to be like me, you know.”

“Yuh-huh,” Percy said. “Cuz Daddy’s king, and you’re next, so I gotta be next next.”

Triton ran a hand through his hair. “That’s… not how it works.” Then he paused thinking, "Well I guess that is right."

Percy had already moved on to copying how Triton saluted guards.

The guards saluted back, trying not to melt into puddles on the spot.

An Hour Later

Triton tried to attend a tactical meeting.

Percy sat beside him at the long table with a mini scroll and a piece of broken coral, scribbling pretend notes.

When Triton crossed his arms, Percy crossed his arms.

When Triton leaned back in his chair, Percy scooted his seat back and tipped his head to the side, attempting a thoughtful expression. It mostly looked like he was doing math in his head while also trying not to sneeze.

At one point, a general mentioned a possible border skirmish, and Percy whispered, “We smash ‘em wif sea turtles.”

Triton cleared his throat. “I’ll… take that under advisement.”

Later Still…

Triton tried to slip away to the courtyard for some peace and quiet.

It didn’t work.

He turned the corner and saw Percy already there, standing on a rock with his trident held high.

“I protect Atlantis now!” he shouted at a group of startled kelp gardeners.

Then he spotted Triton looking at him and immediately dropped down to march in step beside him.

“I be quiet now,” Percy whispered. “So I don’t distract you.”

“Thank you,” Triton said sincerely.

They walked for exactly twenty seconds before Percy whispered again, “But I still follow you.”

“I noticed.”

“Cuz you’re my Twon.”

Triton sighed.

And smiled.

Just a little.

“…Fine,” he said. “But if you’re going to be my shadow, you have to help me with my reports.”

“YES!” Percy cheered. “Can I put stickers on them?”

“No.”

“Can I draw lil sharks in the corners?”

Triton stared at him.

“…Fine. Only small ones.”

Percy lit up like a jellyfish.

Best. Day. Ever.

Poseidon had warned them.

“He’s only three,” he’d said. “Be gentle. He’s still grieving, and very attached to me.”

What Poseidon should’ve said was: Brace yourselves. You’re about to meet the most powerful force in the ocean. His name is Percy.

The royal sisters arrived that morning—Rhode with her radiant coral robes, Benthesikyme trailing a swirl of kelp-colored ribbons, and Kymopoleia striding in like a thunderclap with boots adorned with shark teeth and her jellyfish hair tied back in a braid that meant business.

Poseidon stood in the entry hall with Percy perched on his hip. The toddler was wide-eyed, sucking his thumb and half-hiding behind his daddy’s shoulder, Crabby dangling limply in one hand.

“These are your sisters, little star,” Poseidon murmured.

Percy blinked as he was placed on the floor in front of Poseidon. “They all big.”

“They are,” Poseidon smiled. “But they’re very nice.”

Rhode stepped forward first and crouched to his level. “So this is our baby brother.”

Percy stared, then mumbled, “You got shiny hair.”

Rhode beamed. “And you’ve got the cutest curls in the sea.”

Benthesikyme held out her arms gently. “Would you like a hug, sweet one?”

Percy paused, then gave a shy nod. “But no squishin’ Crabby.”

“No squishing,” she promised.

He let himself be scooped up, still holding onto Poseidon with a tiny fist but accepting the hug with a bashful little smile. “You smell like sea flowers,” he whispered.

Benthesikyme actually teared up at how cute her little brother was.

Kym leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching. Her expression unreadable—until Benthesikyme said, “He’s such a sweetheart. So polite.”

Triton let out an incredulous laugh, "Polite for now, just wait till he gets comfortable. He is a little gremlin."

“Gremlin?” Kym repeated, arching a brow in interest.

Poseidon gave a quiet laugh. “Also fiercely protective. And a tiny bit chaotic.”

Kym’s mouth curled into a grin. “My kind of child.”

She walked over and knelt directly in front of him. “Hey, shrimp.”

Percy blinked. “You got jellyfish hair.”

“You got shark teeth,” Kym shot back.

Percy beamed and flashed them. “I bite bad guys.”

“Excellent,” Kym said. “You cause trouble?”

“I sneak on misshuns. I chase Twon wif Toofy. Well not anymore cause daddy said no.”

Kym laughed. “I love him.”

Percy giggled and leaned forward. “You got good boots.”

“You got good vibes.”

They high-fived like it was a sacred pact.

One Hour Later…

Triton stood stiffly on the upper balcony, arms folded, watching chaos unfold in the training courtyard below.

At the center of it all was Percy, riding high on Kym’s shoulders, wearing his “Commander Barnacle” badge crookedly across his chest and swinging his baby trident like it could command the tides.

“THE SNACKS ARE BEIN’ HELD HOSTITCH!” Percy bellowed, pointing dramatically at a crate marked Royal Provisions that absolutely contained fishy crackers.

Kym nodded solemnly. “What’s the battle plan, Commander?”

“SPIN DA GUARDS!”

With a smirk, Kym flicked her fingers, summoning a tightly coiled underwater vortex that sent a group of mock-guard cadets spiraling in harmless loops.

One tumbled dramatically through a coral hoop. “Protect the fishy crackers! Hold the line!”

“NOOOO!” Percy cried. “I NEED THOSE!”

Down below, Percy slapped a starfish on one guard’s helmet and declared with great authority, “You now on MY team!”

The guard gasped, flipping upside down with theatrical flair. “I swear my loyalty to Commander Barnacle!”

Triton let out a long, suffering groan from the balcony. “I was supposed to be his number one.”

Beside him, Poseidon leaned lazily against the railing, sipping his tea and watching the chaos unfold with all the pride of a dad at his toddler’s first war reenactment. “He’s not replacing you. He’s just… making chaos.”

“With Kym.”

“With everyone,” Poseidon said easily. “But you’re still his favorite big brother.”

Triton scowled. “I’m his only non-monster, non-horse brother.”

Poseidon paused, then raised his cup in salute. “Well. You got me there, son.”

They both watched as Percy—now fully draped in seaweed, goldfish cracker crumbs on his cheeks—rode Kym’s shoulders like she was a war dolphin.

“FOR DA SNACK KINGDOM!” he shrieked, holding Crabby aloft like a banner.

Poseidon chuckled. “Besides, that form? The yelling? The tiny trident swings? That’s all you.”

Triton let out a breath, the edges of his frown softening. “…I did teach him to throw his whole body into a battle cry.”

“Exactly,” Poseidon said, clapping him on the shoulder. “She’s his chaos partner. But you? You’re his blueprint.”

The following day, an invisible war broke out in the halls of Atlantis.

Not a war of blades or sea magic—but one of snacks, snuggles, and strategic affection.

It started when Percy emerged from breakfast cradled in Kymopoleia's arms, sleepy-eyed and clutching Crabby with one hand and a jelly chew in the other.

“Kymmy gived me pink one,” he mumbled, content.

Triton, who had just returned from reorganizing the play room for Percy’s “next big mission,” narrowed his eyes.

“Oh, did she?” he said casually.

Percy blinked. “Yuh-huh. She say I da bravest.”

“Hmm.” Triton vanished down the corridor.

Ten minutes later, he returned with a custom-painted sea turtle shell shield, decorated in glittery coral and Percy’s name etched in wobbly script.

“I made it for your next patrol,” he said proudly.

Percy gasped. “F’me?!”

Kymopoleia raised a brow. “You paint now?”

“I do everything,” Triton said smoothly.

For the rest of the morning, Percy was paraded between them like a living trophy.

Kymmy taught him how to swirl a current into a dramatic “cape effect.”

Triton helped him sharpen his “battle yell” into a high-pitched squeak that echoed off the palace walls.

At lunch, Percy sat between them at the table. Every time he reached for a snack, a hand beat him to it—Triton handing him a sliced starfruit, Kym sliding over a honey-glazed eel bite.

Percy, oblivious to the mounting sibling tension, alternated between them happily. “Thank you, Twon. Thank you, Kymmy.”

Then he turned to Poseidon. “Daddy, dey so nice today.”

Poseidon, who had been quietly observing with a look of amused fondness, just hummed. “Mmhm. They sure are.”

By afternoon, Kym had created a personal storm obstacle course in the training grounds—complete with swirling currents, floating hoops, and a banner that read “Percy’s Power Trials.”

Percy squealed with delight and immediately began “zooming” through it on Toofy while Crabby bounced along in his arms.

Not to be outdone, Triton unveiled his masterpiece: a fully transformed playroom turned “Tactical Hide-and-Seek Training Zone.”

The space was filled with tunnel nooks, shell-shaped crawl holes, coral archways, and bubble curtains that Percy could sneak through. The walls shimmered with soft ambient light, and woven through the room was a scavenger system powered by low magic: glowing fish that flickered in and out of visibility, hiding in different spots for Percy to find.

At the center of it all was a “mission board” with stickers and stamps for every fish Percy found.

Percy toddled in, jaw dropping. “Ohhhh…”

Triton grinned. “You gotta find all five fish to win the mission.”

Percy turned wide eyes on him. “REAL fishies?!”

“Tiny illusion ones,” Triton said, tapping the nearest wall. A shimmer lit up and a blue glow darted into a crevice. “They move every time you blink.”

Percy squealed and immediately dove into a pillow trench. “GONNA CATCH ‘EM ALL!”

Kymmy leaned in from the hall, arms crossed. “So now you’re training him for covert ops?”

“I’m giving him strategy,” Triton said smugly. “You gave him high-speed chaos.”

“And he loved it.”

“Now he loves this.”

From inside the crawlspace, Percy’s muffled voice echoed, “Dis da bestest room EVER!”

He popped his head back out a moment later, seaweed in his hair. “I nap here now.”

Crabby was already tucked into a soft coral nest beside the fish tracker board.

Kym raised a brow. “He said the same thing about the obstacle course.”

Triton shrugged. “Yeah, but did he say bestest ever?”

Kym narrowed her eyes. “This isn’t over.”

Percy flopped dramatically onto a cushion and mumbled, “You both da best... now shhh. I busy.”

The day room of the palace was, for once, peaceful.

Sunlight filtered gently through enchanted sea glass panes, illuminating the cozy family chamber where pillows, books, snacks, and sea-creature toys were scattered like shipwreck treasure. Poseidon lounged in a massive clam-shell seat, sipping his sea-moss brew while watching the rare moment of calm unfold.

Rhodes, Benthesikyme, and Amphitrite were seated cross-legged on a kelp mat, surrounded by tiny teacups and polished shell platters. Percy sat primly between them, pinky raised as he held a cup with the utmost concentration.

Amphitrite delicately poured imaginary tea into his shell cup. “One lump or two, dear?”

Percy held up two stubby fingers. “Two, please, Amphy.”

Rhodes patted his curls. “You’re doing wonderfully, my little gentleman.”

“Very refined,” added Benthe with a warm smile. “A prince of poise.”

Percy nodded solemnly, bowtie slightly crooked, cheeks smudged with jam. “I fancy.”

Meanwhile, across the room—chaos brewed.

“You bribed him with fishy gummies!” Triton snapped, arms crossed.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Kym shot back, “were personal playroom hide and seek and fish hunts part of the ‘no spoiling’ agreement?”

“You built him a storm maze and let him pelt guards with sea cucumbers!”

“At least I didn’t give him a room with a ‘stealth mode’ pillow pit!”

“Strategic. Training.”

“Manipulative.”

“You wore a sticker crown and let him ride on your shoulders through the Great Hall!”

“He declared me his Queen of Boom! What was I supposed to do?!”

“Refuse!”

“Blasphemy!”

“TRAITOR!”

Amphitrite calmly lifted her tea cup, utterly unbothered by the shouting. “Such children,” she murmured dryly.

Percy glanced toward the fight, blinked once, then turned back to his tea. “Hood'ums,” he muttered gravely, stirring with his little coral spoon. “Dis tea time.”

Rhodes and Benthe snorted into their cups.

Poseidon finally stood, setting his drink aside with a sigh. “Alright. That’s enough.”

Triton and Kym froze mid-pointed-insult.

Poseidon crossed the room with an infuriating level of calm. “Clearly, there’s only one way to solve this.” He turned and motioned toward Percy. “We line up. We call him. He chooses.”

Triton blinked. “Are you serious?”

Kym narrowed her eyes. “You’re in the lineup too?”

Poseidon just smiled and shrugged. “Of course.”

Moments later, the royal siblings and king and queen of Atlantis stood side by side in a line like contestants on a very glittery, underwater reality show.

Percy stood at the opposite end of the room, still holding Crabby under one arm, with a tiny seashell satchel in the other and an elegant cloth napkin tucked into his shirt.

Poseidon nodded. “Alright, little pearl. Come to your favorite.”

Everyone braced.

Percy squinted at them all seriously, tapping his chin with one chubby finger. “Hmm…”

Kym gave him a wink. Triton flexed. Rhodes offered a pinkie wave. Benthe blew a kiss. Amphitrite merely lifted an eyebrow with elegant expectation.

Then Percy’s eyes landed on his daddy—and lit up.

He dropped everything and launched into a full-speed dolphin swim, straight into Poseidon’s arms.

“DADDY!!!”

Poseidon caught him easily, spinning him once and holding him close.

All the others groaned.

“That’s not fair!” Kym huffed. “You’re his dad!”

“Rigged,” Triton muttered.

“Absolutely biased,” Rhodes added, but she was smiling.

Amphitrite gave a small hum of approval. “As expected.”

Poseidon just kissed Percy’s cheek and said softly before tickling his sides, “You my favorite too, baby boy.”

Percy giggled, snuggling into his arms. “I win da game?”

“You always win, little sea star.”

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.

Chapter Text

In the chamber beyond time, where even gods tread lightly, the Loom of Fate shimmered in perpetual motion.

Threads spun like stars across the vast tapestry—each one a life, a destiny, a glimmer of meaning wrapped in gold, silver, shadow. Some threads were long and steady, others tangled or frayed. All were bound to the weave.

Until one wasn’t.

Clotho—the Spinner—froze mid-motion. Her fingers halted over the distaff, drawn to a single empty space where a thread should be.

“Sisters,” she said, quiet but sharp.

Lachesis—Measurer of span and destiny—looked up, frowning. “What is it now?”

Clotho didn’t answer immediately. Her hand hovered over where the thread had once danced, her gaze fixed on the faint shimmer of its absence.

“It’s gone,” she said finally. “But not by cut. Not by design.”

Atropos turned in place, scissors gleaming at her side. “That’s not possible.”

“I know,” Clotho said tightly. “It unraveled.”

Lachesis rose from her seat and approached, her measuring rod glowing faintly. She touched it to the empty space. “There’s no length. No fate to measure. But…” She drew in a slow breath. “It isn’t dead.”

Atropos frowned. “Then where is it?”

“It slipped the weave,” Clotho said. “It’s not severed. It’s… missing.”

Lachesis’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Threads don’t just go missing. Especially not threads as strong as this one was becoming.”

Atropos narrowed her eyes. “Was it claimed?”

“Not by us,” Clotho murmured.

“It bears no divine pattern,” Lachesis added. “And yet it pulses. Faint. Like it’s… elsewhere.”

“Outside the Loom,” Atropos finished. Her voice was quiet now. Heavy.

Clotho sat slowly, fingers twitching like she could still feel the slip between them. “I tried to weave it back in. It rejected the pattern.”

Lachesis hesitated, then added, “The timing isn’t right. Something greater is moving beneath it.”

Atropos’s grip on her shears slackened. “…We should still mark it. Try again.”

“We can’t,” Clotho whispered. “Not now. Not yet.”

The Loom itself thrummed strangely beneath them—a pulse just slightly out of rhythm. Unfamiliar. Alive.

For a moment, all three were still.

Then Lachesis sighed. “I don’t like this.”

Clotho tilted her head. “I do. It’s been a long time since we didn’t know.”

“Atropos?” Lachesis prompted.

The cutter’s gaze lingered on the open space. “We wait. And we watch.”

They all nodded.

The thread was gone, but not lost.

Just unwoven.

Just unknown.

“We have never faced a thread we could not read—until now,” Clotho said, her voice soft and reverent. “It may undo everything we’ve woven… or teach the Loom a new design.”

Atlantis had held its breath.

Now, as the gates of the city shimmered open, the ocean exhaled in unison.

The current stilled. The pressure shifted. The tides themselves settled into a rhythm more steady than they’d been in days.

And at the heart of the stillness, Poseidon emerged, a sleeping child held gently in his arms.

Percy.

The godling’s curls fluttered with each ripple, his tiny hands curled in Poseidon’s tunic, Crabby nestled in the crook of one arm. He did not stir. He didn’t need to. The sea moved for him.

All of Atlantis had gathered—nobles and guards, citizens and creatures alike. Merfolk and kelpies, hippocampi and sirens, dolphins and fish. Every creature that called the sea home lined the coral paths and domed balconies, silent and watching.

The little prince had returned.

And with him, the sea had calmed.

Some wept openly. Others bowed their heads. All felt it in their bones: the ocean itself had been aching with grief, and now… it had its heart again.

At the palace gates, the royal family rushed forward like a tide breaking all formality.

Amphitrite reached him first, one hand flying to her mouth in relief. “Thank the currents,” she whispered. “You found him…”

Rhodes and Benthesikyme were close behind, robes trailing. Benthe gripped her father’s shoulder, eyes brimming. “Is he hurt?”

“No,” Poseidon said softly. “Just tired. Just… tired.”

Triton was last, his face hard—until he saw Percy snuffle in Poseidon’s arms and cling tighter in sleep. The stoic mask cracked. Triton exhaled, closing his eyes. “I was ready to raze half the sea,” he muttered.

“You weren’t alone,” Kymopoleia said, arms crossed but voice shaking. “The storms wouldn’t obey me. I—I couldn’t stop them.” Her eyes locked on Percy’s sleeping form. “They only stopped when he came back.”

Poseidon looked down at his son, brushing a lock of hair from his brow. “He quiets the ocean now. Even in sleep.”

They stood together, family formed and forged by grief and love, and listened to the silent joy in the water around them.

No fanfare.

No cheers.

Just the hush of reverence.

The royal family sat in a tight circle behind layers of enchanted coral walls and protective currents.

Outside, the sea had begun to breathe again. Atlantis shimmered with soft, reverent light. The streets overflowed with whispered joy—the little prince had returned, and with him, the ocean's calm.

But within the sealed chamber, peace had not yet found them.

Percy slept in the bed tucked into the corner, curled beneath a tide-warmed blanket with Crabby nestled close. The tiny flicker of godly magic that animated the plush still pulsed in rhythm with his breath.

Poseidon stood at the heart of the room, shadows of the Underworld still clinging to his shoulders. His voice was low, steady, but not without weight.

“Hades knows the truth of his origin,” he said. “I told him everything—what led to Percy’s ascension. He agrees that we must protect him at all costs. But he also urged caution. He recommended we create another origin story—one that does not reveal Percy was ever mortal.”

Rhodes’s fingers tightened against the arm of her chair. “The Fates will know.”

“They already do,” Poseidon said. “What they do with that knowledge… I cannot predict. But Olympus may not learn it, and that is what matters now. We need a story—one they can believe.”

He looked around the room—at Amphitrite, Triton, Benthe, Kym, and Rhodes.

They all knew the truth. That Percy had not been born divine, but had become it. That he was once mortal—Poseidon’s only demigod child since the Oath. That Sally Jackson had died protecting him. That Percy’s grief had not only unraveled his mortality, but his place in fate itself.

“He’s a godling,” Poseidon said softly. “Fully divine now. But unanchored. Untempled. Untitled. And still very young. Which means he’s vulnerable.”

“They’ll see him as a threat,” Amphitrite said. “Or a mistake.”

“Zeus will see him as both,” Triton muttered grimly.

“He can’t know,” Poseidon said firmly. “Not about Sally. Not about how Percy ascended. And not that he exists outside the Loom of Fate.”

Kym crossed her arms. “So what do we say when he’s discovered? Because it will happen.”

“We give them a story,” Amphitrite said. “One with divine precedent. One even Zeus won’t dare to question.”

“A birth without a mortal mother?” Rhode asked, brows raised.

Benthe’s voice was calm. “That makes sense. If Apollo were to look, he’d only see your bloodline, Father. His mortality burned away with his thread. Besides… there’s precedent. Aphrodite was born of seafoam.”

Poseidon glanced down at his hands. “Then we say this: he was born of me. And of the sea.”

His voice steadied with purpose.

“I went to Montauk. I’d gone there for years, quietly… to grieve what I’d given up when swearing the oath to prevent a prophecy. To long for what I could never have again. And in that grief… the sea answered.”

Kym’s brows lifted. “Born of your longing for a child?”

“Born of tears from that longing and love,” Amphitrite whispered, her voice gentle. “Tears that fell into seafoam.”

“A gift from the ocean to its king,” Rhode said, her tone filled with quiet awe.

Triton looked toward the sleeping boy in the next room. “Not the son of a mortal woman, but of divine will. A miracle child.”

“A prince,” Poseidon said. “Not hidden for shame—but protected. Raised in silence until the sea was ready to reveal him.”

A long silence followed.

“It’s beautiful,” Benthe said at last. “And believable.”

“It gives him room,” Amphitrite added. “No prophecy. No war. Just a legend to grow into.”

“It’s not what he is,” Kym said, though her voice lacked bite. “But it will protect him.”

Poseidon turned back toward the room where Percy slept, still curled tight and safe.

“It will give him the space to become who he chooses,” he said. “And if Olympus demands more… I’ll remind them the sea answers to no one.”

Triton nodded. “Then this is the truth we give the world.”

Kym added, “We’ll need to be careful around Apollo. He can sense too much. This story… it needs to be close enough to truth to hold up under scrutiny.”

Poseidon nodded. “We shape the myth carefully. We give it to Atlantis first. And if it ever reaches Olympus… it’ll already be too widely believed to deny.”

He stepped toward the bed, gaze softening as he watched Percy stir faintly in sleep, murmuring something about kelp crackers and sharks.

Rhode smiled faintly. “The sea lost a mortal… and gave back a god.”

The myth spread slowly—like tidewater creeping through coral cracks.

It did not begin with proclamation or parade. There was no trumpet of divine truth. Only murmurs. A gentle current.

“Did you hear?”

“He was born from seafoam.”

“No mother—only sorrow and tide. The sea gave him to our king.”

It passed from handmaidens to guards, from kelp tenders to market tenders. Someone had overheard a priest speaking reverently outside the palace gates. Another swore she saw the high chorister lay a pearl at the altar and whisper, Sea Star, light of tide, born from longing.

No one was certain where it started. Only that the story felt true.

The temple was quiet.

Not solemn—reverent.

A few nobles, some traders, and curious children had gathered beneath the glimmering spires of the Coral Temple, where the waters glowed with soft blues and greens. Incense floated from sea-bloom braziers, and in the center, the elder priest rose to speak.

He was not grand in posture, nor thunderous in tone.

But when he spoke, the current itself seemed to still around him.

"They say the sea was still that day.

No storm. No thunder. Only silence.

And a god who mourned.

Poseidon stood at the edge of the tide—alone, as he had for years. Bound by an oath sworn in the shadow of war to prevent a prophecy, he had denied the one thing his heart still longed for: a child.

So he returned, as he often did, to the place where the waves remembered and he could find solace to mourn.

And on that day, the silence within him broke.

He wept—not from anger, but from sorrow too vast for words. And the sea, which had cradled his grief for decades, listened.

Where his tears met seafoam, the ocean stirred. And from the surf, a light bloomed.

Small. Bright. Alive.

A child, not born in defiance, but bestowed.

Not of mortal blood, but of divine ache and longing.

Formed by sorrow, yearning and love. Cradled in tide. Given by the ocean to its king.

He was born of Poseidon and the sea itself—an answer to a void left by an oath.

They call him the Sea Star.

The son who’s light shined brighter against the depth of the darkness grief had cast on the sea king’s soul.

A gift not asked for, but needed.

And now that he has come, the sea is no longer silent in mourning.

It sings."

The silence that followed wasn’t empty.

It was holy.

Mothers touched their children's heads. Traders pressed coral pendants to their hearts. Even the guards at the temple doors bowed their heads, their expressions softened.

A child of sea and sorrow.

A gift the ocean gave its grieving king.

The tale wove itself into the city’s breath.

Children began leaving shells outside the palace for the “Sea Star.” Priests folded the myth into old chants and new songs. Acolytes stenciled his likeness in shimmer-sand, always surrounded by gentle waves and radiant foam.

And when Percy rode Toofy through the temple gardens and squealed with laughter?

The temple attendants bowed their heads in quiet awe.

Of course he brings joy. He was made to soothe the grief of the sea.

Market vendors repeated it to travelers. Priests sang it in quiet morning devotions. Seastone artists etched the image of a glowing toddler rising from foam into archways, fountains, and scrolls.

Children left offerings of pearl and driftglass outside the palace walls.

Merchants murmured quiet prayers: “Sea Star, guide me home with full sails.”

Fisherfolk whispered, “Sea Star, protect my little ones from the deep.”

They did not worship him out of fear. They believed because the story was one of love.

Because he was wanted. Because he was made not for war—but for healing.

Because when he arrived, the sea stopped weeping.

It started with a song.

A soft melody drifting through the halls of the Coral Temple, carried on a current like a lullaby whispered by the tide.

Percy sat on a cushion by the window, legs swinging, Crabby tucked beneath his chin. He was waiting for his daddy to finish boring grown-up talking—but his ears perked when he heard his name.

Kind of.

“They call him the Sea Star,” the priest intoned outside the arched window.

Percy’s eyes widened.

“That’s me,” he whispered into Crabby’s shell. “We famous now?”

The voice continued:

“Born not of mortal blood, but of sorrow and tide… Given to the sea king as a gift from the waves…”

Percy’s eyebrows scrunched.

“…Wait a minute.”

He slid off the cushion and wobbled down the hall barefoot, Crabby clutched like a mission brief. His tiny voice echoed before his footsteps did:

“Daddy?”

Poseidon turned from speaking with Amphitrite and Triton—immediately alert.

Percy blinked up at him, confused. “How come fish-hat man said I no got a mommy?”

The room stilled.

Poseidon was already kneeling, arms open. Percy launched into him, frowning against his shoulder.

“I do got a mommy,” Percy mumbled. “She singed me songs and made my pancakes blue. Is my favorite.”

Poseidon held him tighter, voice soft with love. “You did, little star. You had the bravest mommy in the whole wide sea.”

“So why dey say I made of foam?” Percy asked, muffled.

Poseidon took a long breath, then carried Percy gently to the coral garden, settling onto a shell-shaped bench bathed in warm light.

He held Percy on his lap and brushed his fingers through his curls. “Because the sea needs a story to protect you.”

Percy squinted. “Like a bedtime story?”

“Kind of,” Poseidon smiled. “But more like… a secret mission.”

Percy gasped. “A spy mission?”

“The most important one.”

He shifted Percy on his knee then began.

“You were born to a mortal mommy, and she loved you with all her heart. And I loved you too. But that’s a very dangerous truth. Some gods wouldn’t understand. So we made a special story. A beautiful one. One that tells people what they need to hear to keep you safe.”

Percy hugged Crabby close. “Cuz I’m different?”

Poseidon nodded. “You’re very special. A godling now. More powerful than they know. That’s why we say the sea made you. Because love like that? It’s still true.”

He paused, smiling gently. “Alright. Here’s the simple version.”

He leaned in, his voice soft and secretive.

“Once, Daddy was very sad. I thought I’d never have a little one like you. But I came to a very special shore, and I missed you—even though I didn’t know you yet.”

Percy blinked. “You missed me before I was here?”

“So much,” Poseidon whispered. “And the sea felt it. It knew I had love to give. And one day, when my tears fell into the seafoam, that love became you. You brightened up my life like a star does the night sky.”

Percy’s fingers curled in his father’s beard.

“…So I am a sea star?”

Poseidon tapped his nose. “The brightest.”

“Even brighter than da big shiny fish in the sky?”

“Especially that one.”

Percy giggled, then snuggled close. “Good. I like dat story.”

Poseidon kissed the top of his curls. “So do I, little star. So do I.”

Then, after a moment, Poseidon added more gently, “But you never have to forget your mommy. Ever.”

Percy blinked up at him.

“She was real. She was brave. And she loved you more than the sky loves the sea.” His voice turned warm and certain. “You can talk about her with me. With Triton. With Rhodes, Benthe, Kym, and Amphitrite. You don’t have to hide her from us.”

“But no one else?” Percy mumbled.

Poseidon nodded. “To everyone else, your seafoam story is the one they’ll know. It keeps you safe. Like armor. Like a cloak.”

Percy thought about that. Then whispered, “Like spy armor.”

Poseidon smiled. “Exactly.”

“…Okay,” Percy said. “But I still get to say I had da bestest mommy ever.”

“You absolutely do.”

Percy nestled in again, tiny voice already fading into a yawn. “Spy mission accepted.”

Poseidon wrapped his arms around him. “That’s my Sea Star.”

At first, it was a mission.

A very serious secret.

Percy whispered it to Crabby during naps. Told it in bits and pieces to Amphitrite, who always listened like it was top-secret royal business. Drew it in finger-paint swirls for Kym and declared it “classified foam data.”

He practiced in the mirror, standing on his tippy toes.

“Daddy cried into da sea. I got born. Daddy found me all sparkly.” He paused. Then added, “And then I was a prince.”

He was very proud of that part.

He never once told anyone outside the family that it was a story. Not once.

Atlantis embraced the tale like it had always been truth.

And for Percy—at three years old, with wonder in his heart and seaweed in his curls—the more he said it, the more it felt true.

Because it was full of love.

Because it made people smile.

Because it made him feel safe.

One night, curled in bed with his blanket tucked just so and Crabby squished under one arm, Percy stirred from his dreams with a little frown.

Poseidon, who was half-dozing nearby with scrolls on his lap, looked up as his son whimpered and blinked at him through the soft glow of the chamber.

“Daddy?” Percy whispered.

Poseidon was at his side in a heartbeat. “I’m here, little one.”

Percy blinked again, forehead wrinkling. “I saw a lady.”

Poseidon’s breath caught. “In your dream?”

Percy nodded. “She had brown hair. She smell like pancakes. She—she sang, I think.”

He frowned harder.

“She make my heart feel big.”

Poseidon gently reached over, brushing a curl from his son’s forehead.

“That was your mommy,” he said softly.

Percy looked at him in confusion. “But… I was born from your tears and da seafoam. I no have mommy?”

Poseidon hesitated—then smiled.

“That’s right,” he said, cupping Percy’s cheek. “You were. The sea brought you to me. But hearts remember things even when our heads forget. Love always stays, even if the pictures get fuzzy.”

Percy thought about this very hard.

Then slowly nodded.

“…She had a nice voice in my dream.”

“She did,” Poseidon whispered, voice thick.

Percy yawned, snuggling back into the pillows. “Maybe she sent me to you.”

Poseidon blinked against the sting behind his eyes.

“…I think she did.”

Percy closed his eyes again, voice already drifting off. “’M your Sea Star.”

“The brightest,” Poseidon murmured, brushing his fingers through his son’s hair. “Always.”

And as Percy fell asleep, the god of the sea sat by his side, mourning the memory that faded—but never the love.

Because even if the boy would one day forget her face, her name, or the way she laughed…

Percy would always carry the feeling.

And Poseidon would hold the rest for him.

Chapter Text

Triton had always considered himself a capable commander—disciplined, focused, a picture of control.

That was before he’d been assigned a three-year-old with the divine spark of a god, the stealth of a shadow eel, and the boundless energy of a baby kraken.

Since Percy’s return from the Underworld, Triton hadn’t slept. Not really. His schedule had become:

1. Track Percy.

2. Secure Percy.

3. Prevent Percy from launching himself into another realm.

Simple.

Except Percy had noticed.

And Percy was a menace.

“Daddy,” Percy whispered one afternoon, poking his head into Poseidon’s study. His blanket cape fluttered behind him like he meant business. “I need your help for a very 'portant mission.”

Poseidon lowered his scroll. “I see. And what kind of mission are we talking about?”

“A sneaky one,” Percy said, eyes sparkling. “Triton’s bein’ too serious. We gotta shake him.”

Poseidon tried not to smile. “Shake him?”

“Yup. Operation Wigglebro. I hide. He go bananas. You make him look the wrong way.”

Poseidon blinked.

“Are you asking me to… assist in distracting your brother?”

Percy leaned in and whispered, “You’re very big. You stand in the way. I zoom.”

Poseidon chuckled, setting his scroll aside. “Alright, Commander Barnacle. I’m in.”

Five Minutes Later

Triton jogged into the coral courtyard, scanning the perimeter. “Where’s Percy? He was heading this way!”

Poseidon stood in the center of the hall, arms folded. “We were having a talk. He’s around here somewhere.”

Triton’s eye twitched. “He’s never just around here somewhere.”

Poseidon shrugged casually.

Behind him, Percy belly-crawled across the floor, holding Crabby in one hand and a bag of seaweed chips in the other. He rolled behind a column like a dramatic soldier and gave Poseidon a thumbs-up.

Poseidon coughed to hide his laugh.

Triton squinted. “Is he behind you?”

Poseidon gave him a look of pure, regal offense. “Are you accusing me of harboring a fugitive toddler?”

“Yes.”

“Well, you’re wrong.”

Just then, a soft crinkle echoed from a nearby vent.

Triton bolted.

“Perseus Jackson, get back here!”

“MISSION SUCCESS!!” echoed down the corridor.

Later

Triton slumped against the wall, hair mussed, crown askew, stickers somehow on his armor.

Poseidon strolled up, entirely unbothered.

Triton glared at him. “You helped him.”

“I believe the term was ‘tactical distraction,’” Poseidon said smoothly.

“He’s been sneaking through pipes.”

“He’s creative.”

“He replaced my command scrolls with Crabby.”

Poseidon held up a hand. “I already apologized. Crabby outranks most of us now.”

Triton groaned. “I am a general of Atlantis. A god. I fought Oceanus himself. And I can’t outmaneuver a child.”

Poseidon smiled faintly. “He trusts you.”

Triton blinked.

Poseidon’s voice softened. “He thinks you’re strong enough to chase him. Smart enough to catch him. Safe enough to play with.”

Triton looked away.

“…He still shouldn’t have bitten my calf.”

Poseidon clapped his shoulder. “Occupational hazard.”

The next time Percy whispered, “Operation wigglebro is go,” Triton didn’t sigh.

He hid first.

With snacks.

And a net.

And when Percy popped out from under the throne, triumphant, only to be scooped up by a laughing Triton and twirled in a loop, all Percy did was squeal, “YOU TWICKED ME, TWON!”

And Triton said, “Finally.”

And Percy, breathless from giggles, declared, “You da best big brother ever.”

Triton didn’t even pretend to argue.

The council was in session.

An Advisor stood at the projection coral, presenting a detailed report on tideflow shifts along the eastern defense perimeter. Generals nodded. Advisors took notes.

Everything was calm, orderly—until a familiar soft shuffle echoed from the corridor.

No one looked up.

Not even Poseidon.

A moment later, the doors opened with a gentle creak.

And in padded Percy, blanket trailing behind him like a cape, Crabby dangling from one hand, curls tousled and eyes half-lidded.

He didn’t speak at first.

Just wandered straight across the room, between nobles and generals, around a pile of scrolls, past an enchanted tide map, and over to his father’s throne.

Only then did he pause, blinking up at Poseidon.

“Daddy,” he said sleepily.

Poseidon looked down and offered his arms immediately. “Come here, little one.”

Percy clambered up into his lap without hesitation and buried his face in Poseidon’s shoulder.

Poseidon shifted him gently, wrapping the blanket around them both. “Bad dream?”

Percy shook his head faintly. “No. Just waked up. You weren’t there.”

“I’m here now,” Poseidon murmured, one hand settling over his son’s back.

A yawn bloomed against his collarbone.

Then: “Daddy?”

“Yes, sea star?”

“I need kisses.”

Poseidon smiled and kissed his hair.

“Another.”

He kissed Percy’s forehead.

“‘Nother.”

A kiss on the cheek.

Percy sighed deeply and finally slumped, fully relaxed, eyes drifting shut. “Kay. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Poseidon whispered.

The room was silent, respectful.

The advisor cleared his throat softly, gaze still on his report. “With your leave, my lord… I’ll continue?”

Poseidon nodded once, gently rocking the sleeping boy in his arms. “Please do. Just keep your voice down.”

Most of the palace didn’t know where Amphitrite’s garden was.

It wasn’t marked on the official maps. No servants cleaned it. No guards patrolled its edges. It was quiet, old, and sacred—a place where ocean magic grew wild and sea creatures came to rest.

Which is exactly why Poseidon had guided Percy there that morning, holding his hand the whole way.

“Be good,” Poseidon said, pressing a kiss to his son’s curls. “And listen to Amphitrite.”

“I always listen,” Percy replied, completely serious as he munched on a kelp cracker.

Poseidon gave Amphitrite a look. She just raised a brow.

When the sea god left, the silence lingered—for exactly seven seconds.

“Whoa,” Percy breathed, running up to a glowing anemone. “Dis one’s wiggly!”

“That’s because it’s alive,” Amphitrite said gently, trailing behind him with practiced grace. “Everything in here is.”

Percy stared at the shimmering vines, the soft-pulsing lights, the coral shaped like tiny stars.

“It like magic,” he whispered.

“It is.”

She knelt near one of the low tide pools as Percy wandered closer, peering in to find a cluster of small jellyfish swirling lazily. They blinked pink and soft blue in the filtered light.

“Are these your pets?”

“Sacred companions,” Amphitrite corrected softly. “But yes. They live with me.”

“They like you,” Percy said simply. “Cuz you kind.”

Amphitrite blinked, a little startled by the softness in his voice.

Percy knelt beside the pool, reaching out his hand—but not touching. The jellies glowed brighter.

“They’re sayin’ hi!” he said, thrilled. “Hi little floaty blobs!”

She smiled, letting the warmth sneak in where once there had only been cool, queenly composure.

“Why did Daddy bring me here?” Percy asked suddenly, squishing Crabby beneath one arm.

“Because I wanted to spend time with you,” Amphitrite said. “Just us.”

Percy tilted his head. “Why?”

There was no accusation—just curiosity, raw and toddler-wide.

Amphitrite tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Because I like being with you.”

He blinked, thoughtful. Then nodded. “I like you too, Amphy.”

Her lips twitched. “That’s good to hear, little pearl.”

“Can I show da swirly fish dogs my crab?” Percy said, already halfway to the dolphin arch.

“Dolphins,” she called after him. “And yes, I think they’ll be very impressed.”

Half an hour later, Percy was riding side-saddle on a sleepy sea turtle, Crabby balanced between his knees, while three dolphins circled him like an honor guard.

Amphitrite sat on a coral bench nearby, watching with a look no one in the court had ever seen her wear.

Soft. Open. Full of something not quite spoken aloud.

Percy hopped off the turtle and ran back to her, barefoot and bright-eyed.

“Dey like me,” he said proudly, crumbs stuck to his cheek.

“They love you,” she murmured.

Percy squinted up at her. “Like you do?”

Amphitrite hesitated.

Then slowly knelt and brushed his curls back with both hands.

“I’m learning how,” she whispered.

Percy wrapped his arms around her neck without hesitation. “You doin’ a good job.”

And as she hugged him back, gently rocking him in the heart of her quiet garden, Amphitrite finally let herself believe it.

Maybe not a son by blood.

But a bond deeper than names.

One day, she would be his mother in truth.

But for now…

“I like being your Amphy,” she whispered against his hair.

“I like you bein’ mine,” Percy whispered back.

And the sea sang soft around them.

Poseidon stood at the threshold of the corridor, unseen.

He hadn’t meant to linger.

He’d only been passing by the garden’s side entrance, intending to check in, perhaps steal a kiss from his wife, a hug from his son. But the moment he heard Percy’s voice, he froze.

“Amphy! Look, I made a sparkle pile!”

The sea god peeked through the open coral arch just enough to see.

Percy sat in the middle of Amphitrite’s garden, surrounded by shells and shimmers of fishscale confetti—a trail of mess that could only have come from one of the royal scribes’ ruined scrolls. Amphitrite sat beside him, legs tucked beneath her, her gown speckled with glittering ink and sea moss. She was smiling.

Not the tight, diplomatic curve she wore for court.

A real smile.

And Percy beamed at her like she was the moon and he was the tides.

Poseidon’s chest clenched.

It had started simply enough.

Amphitrite had offered to take Percy into her garden once. Then again. Then she started tucking tiny snacks in her sleeve, teaching Percy the names of all her sacred creatures, showing him how to braid tideweed properly.

She let him wear coral paint on his face.

He called her Amphy like it was a magic word.

And now?

Now he ran to her when his sea crab plushie lost a button. Asked her to help him with his “battle cloak” instead of asking Poseidon. Had begun, more than once, to pat Poseidon’s cheek and say, “No sad, Daddy—I play wif Amphy today!”

Poseidon tried not to be hurt by that.

He failed.

Later, in his study, Poseidon sat at his desk pretending to read. Percy burst in, arms flailing, curls wild.

“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!”

He looked up, hope blooming.

Only to hear: “I need my cloak! Amphy fix it! Where’s Amphy?!”

The disappointment hit harder than any war spear.

“She’s in her garden,” Poseidon said, managing a smile.

Percy squealed and turned to run—only to pause halfway, glance back, and wobble uncertainly.

“You wanna come?”

Poseidon’s heart ached. “I think I’ll stay here this time.”

“’Kay!” Percy waved and zoomed off, tripping over his own feet in his excitement.

Poseidon watched the door long after it closed.

He knew this was good.

Knew this was healing—for both of them. Amphitrite, who had kept her distance too long, who’d feared Percy might be a symbol of broken oaths or painful truths. And Percy, who was learning that he didn’t only belong to one set of arms. That he could be loved in many ways.

But still.

Still…

He was his boy. His sea star. His miracle.

And now the tide had shifted.

He could feel it—slow, but real.

The way Percy leaned into Amphitrite’s arms now without hesitation. How her lullabies could settle him as quickly as only Poseidon’s heartbeat once did. How Percy beamed with pride when she called him clever. Brave. Gentle.

He knew it shouldn’t feel like losing something.

But gods could be possessive.

Especially sea gods.

Especially fathers.

That night, Poseidon lay beside Percy in his massive tide-warmed bed. His little son was fast asleep, curled like a shrimp under his arm, Crabby clutched tight.

Poseidon stroked his back slowly.

“You can love her, little one,” he whispered. “You can love all of them.”

Percy murmured in his sleep. “Amphy…”

Poseidon smiled, soft and aching.

“You are so precious to me my love. I want you to be loved by all for the miracle you are, but you’ll always be my baby first.”

A pause.

“…Even if you don’t always come to me first.”

Outside, the waves curled closer to the palace—warm, calm, but full of waves.

And in the quiet of the sea, Poseidon held his sleeping child a little tighter.

Poseidon had never lied to himself about who he was.

He was possessive. Primal. A god who claimed and kept what was his. It came with being the sea—untamed, consuming, relentless. And in all his long, immortal life, that trait had flickered through his relationships like current under calm water.

But never like this.

Not with any of his children.

Not until Percy.

With his other sons and daughters, he had given them what they needed—power, blessings, distance. He had loved them, of course. But Percy?

Percy had rewired him.

From the first moment he had held that tiny boy in the hospital room, Poseidon had known: This one’s mine. Not just in name or blood. But soul-deep.

And now that Percy had found family—found others—who loved him?

Poseidon wanted that. Truly. He wanted Percy adored by the entire ocean. Wanted him cherished, protected, worshipped even.

But he still wanted to be the one.

The first.

The favorite.

The heart of his boy’s world.

And that was the part that hurt.

He watched from the edge of the hall as Percy sat in Amphitrite’s lap, proudly showing off a garden bracelet made of glowing kelp beads.

“I picked da colors!” Percy chirped.

“And arranged them perfectly,” Amphitrite praised.

Percy beamed.

Poseidon watched.

He wasn’t angry. How could he be? They looked beautiful together—his sea queen and his sea star. They laughed together now, moved with ease, touched each other without hesitation.

And he wanted that. Gods, he wanted that.

But deep in his chest, the current curled.

That ancient possessiveness rose—not cruel, not even bitter, just… aching.

Not her. Not them.

Just him. Wanting to be loved the most.

That evening, Percy wandered into the royal bath chambers, hair still messy from the garden, arms full of collected shells.

“Look what I bringed you!” he said proudly, holding up one shaped like a little heart.

Poseidon smiled, setting aside his robes and kneeling beside him. “For me?”

“Uh huh. I got it wif Amphy. But I saved it for you.”

Something in his chest cracked, soft and sharp.

“Why me?” he asked, without meaning to.

Percy blinked. Then grinned. “Cuz you’re my bestest.”

Poseidon swallowed around the knot in his throat.

“I like Amphy lots,” Percy added seriously. “I do. She gives me snacks.”

Poseidon chuckled. “That she does.”

“But I love you mostest. Don’t be sad, Daddy.”

The words hit like a wave against shore.

Percy didn’t know why he was saying it—not really. He was three. But somewhere, in that divine spark of his, he felt it. That ripple of unease, that flicker of insecurity in Poseidon’s heart.

And just like that, he chose.

Chose to bring the shell to him.

Chose to crawl into his arms that night, and whisper stories just for his ears.

Poseidon kissed his brow, wrapping him close.

“You’re mine,” he murmured.

Percy nodded. “Forever an’ ever. Even when I do stuff wif Amphy.”

Poseidon smiled faintly. “That’s allowed.”

“But I still like you da best,” Percy said with a sleepy smirk. “Don’t tell.”

Poseidon’s heart flooded.

“I won’t,” he whispered. “It’ll be our little secret.”

Crabby sat solemnly on a sea sponge pillow, his button eyes slightly crooked, but full of understanding.

Percy crouched across from him, face serious, holding a purple crayon like it was a royal decree.

“Crabby,” he whispered, “Daddy’s got a sad.”

He poked Crabby’s claw for emphasis. “Not big sad. Not ‘I got no snacks’ sad. A tiny deep squish sad. Like... when da ocean’s quiet and you feel small.”

Crabby offered no resistance.

Percy nodded solemnly. “We fix it. We fix it good. This our mission. Operation: Make Daddy Smile Forever.”

He slammed his crayon down with toddler finality.

The mission had begun.

Phase One: Da Most Important Picture Ever Made

Armed with sparkle crayons and intense focus, Percy spent *ten full minutes *creating his masterpiece. That was basically forever in toddler time.

Daddy was drawn with his big crown and a happy face. Percy was beside him with his badge and trident. The ocean looked like rainbow noodles. Crabby had a crown too.

In wobbly, crayon-streaked letters—clearly copied from a scroll someone had once helped him spell out—were the words:

“ME + DADDY = HAPPEE 4EVER”

Percy added glitter.

And stickers.

And a sun with sunglasses because Daddy was cool.

Phase Two: Da Shiniest Necklace Ever Created by Toddler Hands

He’d made it with Rhorho and Benty—shells strung together with kelp-twine, all selected very carefully. One glowed when you hummed. One looked like a heart. The centerpiece was his proudest moment: a polished shell with a pearl glued in the center, slightly off-kilter, but full of love.

It was Daddy’s Wish Shell. His *bestest ever present. *Whenever Daddy needed hugs he just wish and Percy would be there.

He padded softly into the royal bedchamber.

The bed was neatly made—blue sea-silk sheets and plush pillows fluffed to Daddy's kingly standards.

Percy climbed up, huffed, and then gently placed the necklace right in the middle of Daddy’s pillow.

He whispered, “Now you know I love you when you sleepy.”

Crabby was placed right next to it—just in case it needed guarding.

Phase Three: Cuddle Attack

After dinner, Percy spotted Daddy reading something boring again. His face wasn’t sad, not really—but Percy still felt it, like a ripple in his chest.

He waddled across the floor with great determination, dragging his blanket like a cape and climbed directly into Poseidon's lap.

No words.

Just hug.

And then, a soft whisper: “I miss you.”

Poseidon blinked. “You saw me all day, little one.”

Percy rested his head under his chin. “But you feeled a little far. So I get close.”

Poseidon's arms wrapped around him instinctively, fiercely. “You always make everything better.”

Percy squished tighter. “You my best smile.”

Later That Night…

Poseidon had intended to go straight to sleep.

His chambers were dim and quiet, lit only by the soft flicker of deep-ocean lanterns and the lull of the distant tide.

But when he entered, something waited on his bed that hadn’t been there before.

A necklace.

Tiny, handmade.

Shells strung together with uneven twine. A few shimmered faintly—enchanted by someone else, maybe Rhodes or Benthe—but the centerpiece was unmistakably Percy’s creation: a pearl set crookedly in a swirled pink shell, just slightly off-center.

Beside it, curled like a faithful guardian, was Crabby—his son’s ever-present plush companion.

Poseidon stood frozen for a moment.

Then he reached down, gently lifting the necklace like it was spun from coral thread and starlight. He slipped it over his neck.

It was... light.

And yet his heart felt so full it might burst.

He reached for Crabby next, tucking the plush into the crook of his arm like he’d seen Percy do so many times, intending to return it to his son. His throat ached, and for once, it wasn’t from power or salt or fury.

It was love. Pure, wild, and unshakable.

He could feel it bloom again—deeper than the trench, stronger than any current. A love so fierce it curled around his divinity and hardened into instinct.

Mine, the ocean in him whispered.

Mine to protect. Mine to hold. Mine.

His possessiveness swelled—not out of control, but out of devotion. Anyone who dared harm his child, anyone who even thought about it...

No. They wouldn’t get close.

Not while the sea still surged through his veins.

With Crabby in one arm, he turned to leave—but paused by his study to retrieve a scroll. And that’s when he saw it.

There, smack in the middle of his desk, lay a drawing.

Crayon strokes wobbled across the page in riotous joy: a tall stick figure in a big crown (him), a smaller one with curls and a crooked trident (Percy), both standing in a scribbled ocean beneath a glittery sky. Above them, the words:

“ME + DADDY = HAPPEE 4EVER”

Poseidon stared.

He didn’t breathe.

Then he sank into his chair, Crabby still cradled against his side.

His hands trembled.

There had been many treasures in his long life. Relics. Crowns. But none of them—none of them—made his soul feel like this.

This wasn’t just a gift.

It was Percy’s heart on paper.

A devotion so pure it pierced through every layer of godhood he wore. Stripped him down to almost human. The closest he has ever been in millenia.

He would frame it. He would hang it for all of Atlantis to see. And the necklace?

Never coming off.

The Throne Room, Next Morning

There was a buzz in the palace.

Not from alarms. Not from danger.

But from something far more shocking:

The Sea King was smiling.

And wearing a necklace made of shells. With glitter. And kelp string. And possibly toddler drool.

And directly behind the throne, newly placed in a golden frame with protective wards and coral embellishments, was a child’s crayon drawing.

It sparkled beneath the sacred Atlantean banners like a royal decree.

An advisor leaned toward another, whispering, “Should we... ask where that came from—?”

Triton, standing nearby, turned his head with glacial slowness. His voice was calm. Too calm.

“You may. But you won’t enjoy the consequences.”

The advisor promptly shut up.

Meanwhile, Poseidon looked... different.

Not just calmer—but whole.

His eyes, which had burned like hurricanes in recent days, now shimmered with something softer. His every movement was relaxed, like the ocean after a storm. His presence radiated strength again—not from wrath, but from love.

The necklace lay proudly against his collarbone.

And no one dared comment on it.

No one needed to.

The tides were calm. The palace was warm. Atlantis was alive with joy once more.

All because the Sea Prince had declared it so—with crayon, crown, and love.

Percy zoomed.

Not walked. Not strolled. Zoomed.

His little feet pitter-pattered across the polished coral floors of the throne room with the intensity of a three-year-old on a mission. The palace guards barely had time to register a blur of curls, blanket-cape, and determination before the small sea prince burst through the main archway with all the subtlety of a thunderstorm in a bottle.

“DADDY!!”

Poseidon turned from the dais just in time to catch sight of the tiny whirlwind charging his way. His expression shifted—surprise, then immediate warmth. His son’s voice always had that effect. The way it cracked through even the most divine thoughts and filled his chest with something brighter than the sun above the waves.

“Good morning, little barnacle,” Poseidon greeted, already moving to receive him.

But Percy stopped.

Mid-stride.

He stared past his father—eyes going huge—and let out the loudest toddler gasp in history.

“…DAT’S MY PITCHER!!”

A few nearby attendants jumped.

Percy’s finger shot out, wobbly and dramatic, aimed directly at the newly framed picture hanging in a place of honor behind Poseidon’s throne.

The place where ancient banners had once fluttered. Where sacred Atlantean relics were sometimes displayed. Where important things were shown to the whole kingdom.

And now... his crayon drawing.

“Why it there?” Percy demanded, looking personally betrayed. “It go on da FRIDGE!”

The nobles nearby stifled laughter. Triton failed entirely.

Poseidon, already grinning, beckoned him forward. “Come here, my little artist.”

Percy ran the rest of the way and scrambled up into his daddy’s lap without hesitation, his curls bouncing as he twisted around to look at the framed masterpiece again.

His eyes sparkled.

He really did it. Daddy liked it.

Not just liked—LOVED. He’d made it important. Fancy important. Like war maps and shiny things with locks on them.

In his little chest, Percy’s heart squeezed with pride so big it made his toes tingle.

He loves it. He really really loves it. He think it’s da best. He’s wearin’ my necklace too!

Percy’s gaze dropped from the picture to his daddy’s chest—and there it was.

Still there.

Still on.

The necklace made from shell pieces and kelp and love. The one he thought Daddy might forget to wear. Or maybe put away. Or drop on accident.

But no.

It was still around his neck, hanging right there in the open like a treasure.

His mouth dropped open again. He looked up at Poseidon with awe. “You weared it?”

Poseidon nodded. “Of course I did.”

“You LIKE it?”

“I love it.”

“Even da shell wif da glue mess?”

Poseidon leaned down, their foreheads nearly brushing. “Especially that one.”

Percy could barely breathe, his whole chest fizzy with delight. “It’s da Wish Shell. You ‘membered!”

“I remember everything you give me.”

His little fingers reached out and tapped the edge of the necklace gently—like confirming it was still real, still there, still safe.

He weared it. He weared it ALL DAY. Maybe he sleeped in it too! Daddy gots it close to his heart...

That thought made Percy melt inside.

He grinned so hard his cheeks hurt, then snuggled in close beneath his daddy’s chin, basking in the warm ocean scent and the strong, safe rhythm of Daddy's breathing.

“I gived it for your heart,” he mumbled, a little sleepy now that he’d seen what he came for.

Poseidon wrapped both arms around him, holding him with a gentleness that defied his title. He buried his nose in Percy’s hair and whispered back, “And that’s exactly where I keep it.”

As Percy nestled in, Poseidon exhaled slowly—deep and steady like a wave returning to shore.

His heart ached, but in the sweetest way. A type of ache he’d only ever known since Percy came into his life.

He’d built cities beneath the waves. Raised islands from nothing. Battled Titans, shattered mountains, held back apocalypses. He’d loved, lost, ruled, wandered—

And yet, nothing had ever made him feel as proud as the moment his son pointed to a framed crayon drawing and shouted, “THAT’S MY PITCHER.”

This, Poseidon thought, holding his boy close, is my greatest creation.

Not a weapon. Not a kingdom.

A child.

His child.

Wild and loving and pure. Unruly curls and unstoppable laughter. Sticker diplomacy and storm tantrums and bravery made of seashells and glitter.

His sea star.

“Daddy?” Percy’s voice was barely a whisper.

“Yes, little star?”

“You keep it forever?”

Poseidon smiled, lips brushing Percy’s curls. “Longer than forever.”

A soft sigh, and Percy melted completely against him, content in the arms of the one who loved him most.

Poseidon looked toward the drawing again, framed in gold behind his throne.

No royal decree had ever carried more power.

The sound of giggles drifted through the open coral archways of the palace garden.

Poseidon paused, the sea currents curling around his shoulders as he stood just out of sight.

There they were—Amphitrite and Percy, nestled together by the tideflower beds. Amphitrite sat gracefully on a curved stone bench, showing Percy how to gently coax blossoms from the base of enchanted kelp vines. Beside her, Percy knelt in the sand, chubby fingers coated in sea-moss and shell dust, proudly holding up a squirmy sea worm with all the reverence of a royal scroll.

“Look, Amphy!” Percy grinned, eyes wide. “He’s wiggly! He doin’ da happy dance!”

“Oh yes,” Amphitrite laughed, brushing a curl from his cheek. “He looks very pleased with his prince.”

Just days ago, it might have stirred deeper jealousy—the echo of a familiar ache. That quiet jealousy he hadn't expected to feel so strongly. The way his jaw had tensed every time Percy reached for Amphitrite first. The sting of watching his baby boy tuck into her side or ask her to help him with a drawing instead of running straight into his arms.

He hadn’t begrudged them their bond—he wanted Percy to be loved, cherished, safe. But gods, he wanted to be loved most.

He wanted to be first.

And he was.

Percy had made that clear—again and again. With pictures left on his bed. With shell necklaces strung just for him. With the way his tiny voice lit up when he whispered, “You weared it?” and “I gived it for your heart.”

Poseidon knew now—deeply, confidently—that he held the center of Percy’s world.

And so, standing in the archway watching them, he didn’t feel the old pinch of possessiveness tighten.

He felt pride.

His little one was thriving.

Safe. Bright. Loved by many, but still anchored to him.

“Amphy!” Percy called, gently lowering the worm onto a soft shell bed. “He’s sleepy now. We gotta make him a blankie.”

“I think we can manage that,” Amphitrite said warmly, conjuring a fine wrap of sea-silk with a flick of her fingers. “Fit for the prince’s guest.”

Percy patted the little worm with delicate fingers. “You sleep tight, Mr. Wiggly. I come back later an’ read you a story.”

Poseidon chuckled softly and stepped forward.

“I hope you’re saving one of those stories for me,” he said, voice warm.

Percy’s face lit up like sunlight hitting shallow waves. “Daddy!!”

He bounded up, arms outstretched, sand still clinging to his knees. Poseidon scooped him up instantly, lifting him high before settling him on his hip.

“I been gardenin’!” Percy declared proudly. “Amphy say I got da green fingers!”

“Green thumb,” Amphitrite corrected gently from her seat.

“But I got ten fingers!” Percy insisted.

Poseidon laughed, pressing a kiss to his curls. “Then you’ve got plenty of gardening power.”

“I maked a worm palace.”

“I saw that. He looked very regal.”

As Percy rambled about naming his worm guards and organizing bedtime scrolls, Poseidon glanced at Amphitrite. She met his gaze with a calm understanding, no challenge—just the shared peace of watching someone they both loved more than the sea itself grow brighter by the day.

Poseidon’s grip tightened just slightly around his son.

He would always be protective. He would always crave those sleepy cuddles and wide-eyed smiles for himself.

But now?

Now he could hold that love alongside the pride of knowing Percy had more than just a father.

He had a family.

And Poseidon?

Poseidon was—and always would be—his center.

Chapter Text

It started with little things.

Percy didn’t wake Poseidon by jumping on his bed that morning. No flying leap, no battle cry, no Crabby dramatically thrown in his face. Just a quiet tug on the sheets and a soft, “Daddy…? M’cold.”

Poseidon had blinked awake to find his son already snuggled halfway into the blankets, curls sticking in every direction and eyes a little bleary.

“You okay, little star?” he’d asked, brushing Percy’s forehead.

Percy had shrugged, leaned in, and whispered, “Wanna sit with you.”

They got ready slowly. No dramatic shark-tooth brushing. No declarations about secret underwater missions. Just Percy rubbing at his eyes and asking if he could skip wearing his little trident that day. Which of course he could. He only wore it at his own request.

At breakfast, it became more obvious.

He didn’t even look at the pile of sweet-sea waffles. He didn’t yell about snack diplomacy or demand that Triton bring him jellyfish syrup, so he could steal his extra waffles.

He just curled up in Poseidon’s lap, resting his cheek against his father’s chest.

“…That’s the second time he’s refused food,” Amphitrite murmured.

Triton frowned. “He didn’t try to glue a sticker to my forehead this morning.”

Rhodes tilted her head. “He usually asking a million questions before breakfast.”

Percy let out a soft, pitiful sniffle and clutched Crabby closer.

Poseidon looked down at him sharply. “Was that a sneeze?”

Percy nodded solemnly. “I tink so, daddy. The sneezies won’t leave me alone.”

“Are you hurt?”

“No…” Percy mumbled. “Jus feelin’ ike a sea snail.”

Benthe reached across the table, gently pressing her hand to his forehead. “He’s a little warm.”

Poseidon was already standing. “That’s it. He’s sick.”

“Maybe it’s just a little tiredness,” Amphitrite offered gently.

But Poseidon was already wrapping Percy in his cloak. “We’re going back to the royal chambers. He needs rest. And soup. And Crabby. And absolutely no stress.”

Kym snorted softly. “Who’s stressed?”

“He didn’t yell about pirates,” Poseidon snapped. “I’m stressed.”

Percy sniffled again. “Daddy?”

“Yes, little one?”

“…I think I’m dyin’ a little.”

Poseidon’s heart stopped. “Everyone out of the way.”

“He’s warm,” Poseidon said, panicked. “Too warm. Is he glowing? Is he melting?”

“Sir,” said General Delphin from the corner, “It’s just a—”

“Silence. He needs rest. And twelve healers. And soup. Where’s the royal healer? Bring all of them.”

“He just sneezed—”

“ALL OF THEM.”

Ten Minutes Later

Percy lay dramatically in Poseidon’s bed, wrapped in approximately seven layers of sea-silk blankets, a cool cloth on his forehead, and Crabby perched bravely at his side.

He sniffled.

Poseidon paced at the foot of the bed like a general awaiting a prophecy.

“He says his throat hurts,” he reported grimly to Amphitrite, who had been summoned under the declaration of medical emergency. “And he used the word plague, which he learned from a scroll I told him not to read.”

Amphitrite raised a brow. “He likely has a cold.”

Poseidon paused.

“Like…a mortal cold?”

“Yes.”

“One of the bad mortal colds?”

“No,” she said flatly. “The normal kind.”

From the bed, Percy whimpered, “I want cuddles an’ soup an’ kisses an’ maybe a jellyfish plushie if I don’t make it.”

Poseidon was at his side in an instant.

“You will absolutely make it, little one,” he said, kissing Percy’s hair. “I’ll hold you through every wave of this… this terrible affliction.”

Percy leaned into him with a satisfied sniffle. “You da best nurse, Daddy.”

“I am the god of healing now.”

“You da god of cuddles,” Percy mumbled into his chest.

Poseidon nodded solemnly. “That too.”

Outside the room, Triton stood beside Amphitrite, arms crossed.

“You tried to tell him it was likely a cold, didn’t you?”

She sighed. “He waved a trident at me and said, ‘You don’t know what toddler illnesses are like; he’s only three.’”

Triton smirked. “He’s very three.”

A sudden loud sniffle followed by a dramatic “I need more snuggles or I perish!” echoed from inside.

Amphitrite smiled faintly. “Poseidon’s worse than the child.”

“Father is the child,” Triton muttered.

“I really no feel good,” Percy sniffled.

He was curled up against Poseidon’s chest, cheeks flushed, eyes watery, and blanket twisted around him like a very sad sea burrito. Crabby was squished under one arm, and he clutched a half-finished jellyfish plushie in the other. His nose had been running all morning, and the little cough that had followed had kicked Poseidon directly into full-blown divine panic.

“He’s hot again,” Poseidon barked, adjusting his grip on Percy like the child might combust. “You said it was just a cold. Now he’s burning like a vent flare.”

The healer—third one today, and arguably the bravest—shifted nervously near the door. “My lord, the fever is already subsiding. It’s not behaving like a standard illness, but the physical symptoms are minor. He’s showing no signs of respiratory distress.”

“Except for the sniffling. And the sneezing. And the glowing,” Poseidon snapped, gesturing wildly to Percy’s faintly golden skin. “My son is shimmering like divine algae. Are you telling me that’s normal?”

“M’ sick forever,” Percy added pitifully, his voice stuffy. “I need soup an’ kisses.”

Poseidon immediately kissed the top of his head. “You’ll get both, little one.”

The healer stepped forward, holding a diagnostic shell that shimmered faintly with sea-spellwork. “Please, my lord. I promise it doesn’t touch him—only reads his aura.”

“Read gently,” Poseidon warned darkly.

The healer swallowed hard and activated the shell. Percy blinked at the light, dazed.

“It glows,” he murmured. “Is it gonna be hurtin’?”

“No, sweetheart,” the healer said gently. “It’s telling us how your body’s feeling.”

“My body’s sleepy,” Percy said, yawning dramatically. “I need daddy snugs. An’ the sleepy fish song.”

Poseidon, already scooping him back up, nodded as if given medical instructions from a divine oracle. “You heard him. He’s had enough diagnostics. If he wants snuggles, he gets snuggles.”

“He’s fine,” the healer mumbled under her breath. “He just has a cold…”

Then she paused.

Frowned.

Tapped the shell.

Her brow creased.

Poseidon froze. “What?”

She stared at the glow. “This isn’t… this isn’t illness. It’s divine fluctuation. His aura’s shifting.”

Amphitrite swept into the room just then, regal and cool, but her expression tightened as she heard the words.

“Fluctuation?” she echoed.

The healer nodded slowly. “I’ve seen it before in the early stages of minor deities—when they begin gaining worship. Devotion doesn’t have to be formal. Enough prayers, enough reverence, and it begins to… stick. He’s anchoring.”

“Anchoring?” Poseidon repeated, voice suddenly softer.

“His body’s adapting to worship,” Amphitrite said, stepping closer. “That would explain the fever. The glow. The fatigue. It’s not a cold.”

Percy sniffled from Poseidon’s arms. “So I no dyin’?”

“No, sweet star,” Amphitrite said with a faint smile. “You’re growing.”

Percy’s eyes widened. “I’m gettin’ bigger?!”

Poseidon pressed a kiss to his forehead, his heart doing something entirely unreasonable inside his chest. “In the best way.”

The healer—now shaking slightly—bowed low. “I will make a note to update the records. And… I’ll inform the temple clerics that he may need light offerings only for the next few days. To prevent overload.”

Percy leaned his head against Poseidon’s collarbone. “I still need soup.”

“You’ll have the finest sea-soup in the realm.”

“And a parade?”

“I’ll commission a clam-shell float.”

Outside the room

Triton stood with his arms crossed, watching another frazzled healer shuffle away like they’d been caught in a current. He rubbed his temple as another dramatic “more kisses and snugs!” echoed through the coral-paneled hall.

Beside him, Amphitrite who had joined him exhaled slowly, regal as ever, but there was the tiniest quirk of a smile at the edge of her lips.

“He’s completely undone,” Triton muttered.

“Poseidon?” Amphitrite asked.

“Of course Father,” Triton replied, rolling his eyes. “Percy sneezes once and suddenly the Sea is on lockdown.”

Amphitrite’s gaze drifted toward the door, her voice fond. “It’s sweet.”

“It’s terrifying.”

“Both can be true.”

Triton shot her a dry look. “You’re enjoying this.”

She didn’t deny it. “I’m enjoying seeing him like this again. Alive. Soft.”

Triton was quiet for a beat. Then he said, “He wasn’t like this with us.”

“No,” Amphitrite said softly. “He wasn’t allowed to be during that time. Time’s were different, you are also his heir leading to him feeling the pressures to prepare you. You also were never young like this. Your Father has never be not a god, but a father. He has yearned to, but fate never allowed it.”

Inside, Percy wailed something unintelligible about snuggle frequency and shark plush negotiations.

Triton groaned. “We’re going to need an army of caretakers if this is what divine toddlerhood looks like.”

Amphitrite smiled faintly. “Or maybe… just one very devoted father.”

Two days later, Percy was very much not sick anymore.

But he hadn’t told anyone that.

He lounged dramatically across Poseidon’s throne, wrapped in a blanket and sipping soup like a royal invalid. His nose was dry. His energy was back. But the moment someone hinted at lessons or chores?

“Too tired,” he mumbled, flopping sideways. “Still snotty.”

“You haven’t sneezed in twelve hours,” Triton muttered from behind a scroll.

“I sneezed in my mind.”

Poseidon entered the room and immediately swooped him up into his arms. “How’s my little one feeling?”

Percy leaned against his chest. “Mmm… still sick. But strong. Like… half-sick.”

Poseidon kissed his curls. “You’re very brave.”

“Can I skip chores forever?” Percy asked sleepily.

Poseidon chuckled. “Forever might be a bit long.”

“Okay. Until next year.”

“Done.”

Triton looked like he was physically biting his tongue.

“Father,” he said slowly, “you do realize he’s—”

Poseidon cut him off with a raised brow. “Shh. He’s healing.”

Percy closed his eyes with a content sigh. “Bes’ Daddy ever.”

——————

The palace was quiet that afternoon. For once.

No emergency meetings. No guard drills. No hide-and-seek missions across four levels of coral halls.

Just Poseidon, seated in his private study, quietly reading a scroll.

And Percy, standing a few paces away in his little seaweed pajamas, clutching Crabby with both hands and looking extremely guilty.

He shuffled forward.

Poseidon didn’t look up, but his lips twitched. “Is there something on your mind, little one?”

Percy fidgeted. “Daddy?”

“Yes, sea star ?”

He shuffled closer and leaned against Poseidon’s leg. “I gots a thing I gotta tell you.”

Poseidon closed the scroll and gently lifted Percy into his lap. “A thing, hmm?”

Percy nodded and looked down at Crabby like maybe the crab could do the talking for him.

“I… I wasn’t all sick anymore,” he admitted in a very small voice.

Poseidon tilted his head, pretending to be surprised. “No?”

“I got better… but I still said I was sick.”

“I see.”

Percy curled a little closer. “I wanted more cuddles… and no chores… and more songs… an’ soup… an’ kisses…”

Poseidon was silent for a long moment, one hand rubbing slow circles on his son’s back.

“Thank you for telling me the truth,” he said at last, his voice warm and calm. “That was very brave.”

Percy peeked up from behind the crab plush whose claws were also covering it’s face. “You mad?”

Poseidon kissed his forehead. “Not at all. But next time, little one… you don’t have to pretend. If you want cuddles or songs or soup or anything at all—you just have to ask.”

Percy blinked. “Really?”

“Really.”

A shy smile spread across Percy’s face. “Can I have snuggles now?”

Poseidon pulled him in tighter. “Always.”

“And songs?”

“As many as you want.”

They sat like that for a while—Poseidon humming softly, Percy half-asleep and content.

Then, in the quiet, Percy peeked up again with wide, innocent eyes.

“No more chores, Daddy. I still little. Even if I gettin’ bigger.”

Poseidon chuckled and brushed a hand through his curls. “Yes, you are.”

He kissed his temple. “No more chores.”

Chapter Text

Percy was very sneaky.

Sneakier than eels. Sneakier than crabs who stole people’s snacks. Sneakier than Toofy when he tried to eat Daddy’s royal kelp boots. And today?

Today was a mission day.

Not a regular day. Not a sleepy-snuggly-stay-inside day. A big adventure day. He had his serious face on (even though his cheeks were all puffy from napping) and his serious whisper voice (which was still kind of loud but he was trying).

“‘S a secret mission,” he whispered to Crabby, tucking the stuffed crab under his arm. Crabby knew everything. “Gonna go far. Past the guards. Find Toofy. Go zoom.”

Crabby didn’t say anything, which meant he agreed.

He peeked around the coral archway. Two guards. Big ones. One had a funny nose. The other was already looking sleepy. Good. Good. That’s good. Sleepy guard = less guard.

He tiptoed (which looked a lot like wobbling) into the hallway.

“Little prince?” the sleepy one asked, sitting up straighter.

Percy froze.

Big eyes. Little puff of fear in his belly. Then—quick! Idea!

“Go’n lib’ry,” he said, nodding fast. “Books. Daddy say read ‘bout f’shies. I be ‘sponsible.”

Both guards blinked. One smiled.

“That’s very good, little one. Stay inside, alright?”

He nodded again. Too fast. Almost fell. But he caught himself on the wall and beamed.

“Yup. Inside.” Not inside. Never inside. Outside. All the outside.

As soon as they turned back around, he RAN.

Well—toddler ran, which was more like enthusiastic wiggling with determined little kicks through the water, puffing his cheeks like he was a sea horse at the end of a race. Sometimes he wished he had fishy tails like Twon.

He scooted through the side tunnel he discovered one day, the one with the twisty shells and the grumpy crab who always waved his claws at him. But today even the crab didn’t stop him.

The last gate loomed ahead.

One more guard. Bigger. Not sleepy.

Oh no.

Percy pressed against the coral. Stuck. No way past. Maybe if he cried a little? But then they'd call Daddy, and Daddy would give him cuddles and kisses and say no. And Percy didn’t want no. He wanted Toofy and 'venture.

He squinted hard at the guard. Willed him to go away.

The water shimmered.

Percy didn’t notice it first. But something… shifted. The guard tilted his head. Looked around. Blinked like he forgot what he was doing.

Percy looked down at his hands.

They were still there… but the water was wiggly, like how light danced on sea glass. He waved. The shimmer waved back.

He giggled. “Magic!” he whispered. “I gots sea magic!”

He slipped right past the guard while whispering "sneaky sneaky sneaky" and holding Crabby close like a spy crab.

And then—the ocean.

Open. Big. Bright.

“Toofy!!” he called, throwing his arms wide.

A streak of silver darted from below—TOOFY!! His big sharky puppy spun in the water and tackled him in a happy blur of tail wags and sharp teeth and squeaky yips.

Percy grabbed his fin, wrapping pudgy arms around it like a hug.

“Let’s GO, Toofy! Zoom zoom! ‘Splore time!”

They launched like a rocket, Percy squealing with glee as bubbles zoomed past his ears. They darted under coral bridges, through schools of giggling fish, over upside-down caves and twisty rocks.

The sea was so big.

And Percy was so small.

But it loved him anyway.

It wrapped around him like a blanket and made room for him everywhere he went. And he didn’t know that he was glowing just a little now—that the shimmer was still with him, that fish turned their heads and ancient sea monsters blinked awake in their trenches as he passed.

Percy rode Toofy like the bestest fastest sea-puppy-shark ever. His fingers curled tight into the fin, his face squished with joy as water whooshed past his cheeks, giggling. He was very brave and very fast and definitely the leader of this mission. Crabby bounced behind him in a little pouch strapped to his back (mission safety gear = very important).

And then—

Percy stopped giggling.

His eyes squinted ahead.

Something was there. Way out. Big and glowing and grumbly.

The water was warmer now. Not ouchie-hot, just toasty toes kind of warm. But the kind that made Percy’s nose wrinkle and his tummy feel all wiggly inside.

Toofy slowed, sensing his little prince was curious.

In the distance there was orange rivers and a big mountain. Percy pointed a chubby finger ahead. “Go there.”

Toofy chomped his teeth once in affirmation and turned toward the volcano.

It rose up like a sleeping mountain, covered in black rock and red cracks. Tiny bursts of bubbly lava spat from its sides, curling into the water like angry fire-dragon burps. The whole thing growled.

“Whoa…” Percy whispered. “That’s a big grumbly rock.”

The closer they got, the more he could feel it. Not just heat—but pull. Like the volcano wanted him to come closer. Like it was whispering secrets just for him.

He scrunched his nose.

“Feelin’... hot down here.”

Then he sneezed.

It was a huge sneeze. Like, bubble-blasting, full-body, toddler-wiggle kind of sneeze.

“Ah—AH—CHOO!!”

And right as he sneezed—

BOOOOOM.

The volcano erupted.

Lava shot out of the top in a big splooshy rainbow of orange and red and BUBBLES. Percy's hair floated up in the current from the force, and Toofy let out a startled yip and flipped upside down before correcting himself. There seemed to be a barrier around them preventing anything from touching them.

Percy blinked. Wiped his nose with the back of his hand. Then slowly… turned to Crabby.

“...I do dat?”

Crabby didn’t answer, ‘cause Crabby was a stuffed animal.

But his little crab claws twitched up... then down.

Like a shrug.

Percy gasped. “You don’ know?! You sposed to know!”

Crabby offered zero further commentary.

Toofy started swimming in circles around the volcano now, more cautious this time. Percy kept pointing down, down, because something was whispering in his head—not words, but a feeling like tickly fingers on his brain.

And then he saw it.

At the base of the volcano, hidden behind black smoke and lava bubbles—

An opening.

A round hole, glowing faintly red and gold, like someone had carved a doorway into the side of the sea’s belly. The heat around it shimmered, but not in a bad way.

Percy leaned close. Eyes huge. Mouth forming a soft “ooooh.”

“Dat’s a secret door…”

He didn’t know what was in there.

Didn’t know the volcano might be reacting to him, or that his sneeze had echoed with raw power because his divinity was lacing itself tighter around his tiny soul. He didn’t know that volcanoes weren’t supposed to do that—not like that—unless something divine nudged them.

None of that was important anyway because he did know something. He knew that there was a secret door and that meant it needed investigating.

The inside of the volcano didn’t burn Percy like it would have a mortal. It glowed—like a thousand sleepy campfires tucked into the walls. The water shimmered around him, extra warm and cozy, like a bath that didn’t have to end.

Toofy waited outside, but Percy swam right in, Crabby bouncing along in the pouch, his little eyes sparkling like he knew something wild was about to happen.

The tunnel twisted and turned until—

WHOA.

The room was huge. Bigger than Daddy’s throne room. Bigger than the play-reef. Bigger than anything.

Giant metal machines lined the walls, bubbling and hissing and puffing steam. Glowing orange veins of lava ran through the floor like rivers. Hammers swung on their own. Little brass crabs scuttled past carrying screws. One of them had three eyes and made a honking noise.

Percy’s jaw dropped.

“Dis... da bestest place EVER.”

And then he heard it.

Clang. Clang. Clang.

Someone else was here.

Percy rounded a corner and saw him.

A very big man, with wild hair, a short beard, and one leg made of metal contraption that clicked when he walked. He was hunched over a table, hammering something glowy and golden.

He hadn’t noticed Percy yet.

Percy swam closer, eyes wide. He didn’t even know he was holding his breath.

And then—

The man stopped hammering.

He turned.

Squinted.

Then frowned.

“…Did I make you?”

Percy blinked.

The man scratched his head, then picked up a pair of weird twisty goggles and squinted again.

“Hm. You’re not one of mine. You don’t have a serial plate. No weld lines. Can’t be an automaton.”

Percy giggled. “Mister, I not a toaster.”

Hephaestus blinked. “You talk?”

“Yup!”

“…So. Not a construct. Huh.”

He took a step closer, reaching out cautiously, like Percy might disappear if he poked too hard.

“Stay still,” he muttered, trying to look at Percy from different angles. “Maybe you’re a prototype I forgot... did I build a kidbot and forget again?”

He poked Percy’s side.

Squeak!

Percy burst into giggles, curling into a little ball.

“DON’T! Dat’s tickle spot!!” he squealed.

Hephaestus blinked again. “Definitely not mine.”

He gently set Percy down on a workbench and stepped back, rubbing his chin with a smudge-covered hand.

Percy looked around, eyes lighting up again. “Dis place go clang. I like dat. Is dis where you make fire swords? Can I has one?”

“No.”

“Okay but I look now.”

Hephaestus opened his mouth to say something—

But Percy was already gone.

“Nonono—WAIT—!”

Too late.

Percy zoomed over to a wall full of switches and pulled all of them.

Lights flickered.

Steam erupted from five vents.

A golden gear shot across the room like a frisbee.

“WHOAAAA THIS ONE MAKE SHINY WIND!!”

Hephaestus hobbled after him, groaning. “Why are you—?!”

“I WANNA PRESS THIS ONE—” BZZZZT “Oopsie.”

A nearby hammer started flailing in the air like it was doing the octopus dance.

Hephaestus grabbed Percy around the middle and held him upside down by the waist like a flailing eel.

“I definitely made you faulty.”

“I’m not faulty! I’s awesome!” Percy protested, upside down and giggling. “I’s a sea *rocket, *Daddy say so!”

Hephaestus groaned. “I gave you too much personality. Or not enough programming. You don’t listen.”

“I DO listen!” Percy gasped. “Just not when people say ‘no.’”

The forge hissed ominously.

A small explosion went off in the back. One of the metal crabs flopped over dramatically.

Hephaestus exhaled deeply and looked at Percy.

“…You’re gonna blow up my entire workshop, aren’t you?”

Percy grinned. “Wanna see if I can sneeze da fire again?”

“Absolutely not.”

“TOO LATE—”

Hephaestus was able to place a finger under his nose before he sneezed again.

Hephaestus then held Percy up, the toddler dangled in the air, still giggling from his attempted forge takeover.

“Definitely defective,” Hephaestus muttered. “No instruction manual, no shut-off button, too many small fingers—must’ve installed the chaos module by accident.”

“I’m not ‘fective!” Percy huffed. “I’s Percy!”

Hephaestus squinted again, grumbling. “Not listed in my registry… definitely didn’t build you. Hm. Prototype gremlin with vocal capacity.”

“I not a gremblin! I’s a sea prince!” Percy said proudly.

Hephaestus looked even more baffled.

“And this,” Percy said, wriggling free of his hold and flopping happily onto the workbench, “is Crabby!”

He held up the slightly worn, very loved plush crab with stubby arms and big stitched eyes.

Hephaestus blinked. “…That’s a stuffed animal.”

“Nope,” Percy said seriously. “He’s Crabby.”

As if on cue, Crabby’s little claws twitched.

One up.

Then the other.

Percy gave a wide smile like he’d just won something.

Hephaestus leaned in.

“…Did… did that thing just move?”

“Uh-huh.”

“How?”

“I make it.”

Hephaestus paused.

“You made it?”

“Yup. I make Crabby move,” Percy said proudly, hugging him to his chest. “Before I hadda do it. Like—” Percy flopped Crabby’s arms up and down like a bad puppet impression. “See? I move ‘im like this.”

Then he set Crabby down gently.

“But now?” Percy said, voice dropping into something quiet. Reverent. “Now he move by hisself. Not all the time. Just… when I feel stuff.”

Hephaestus stared. His usual guarded stiffness shifted—just slightly. The way a machine clicked into place. Eyes narrowing, fingers tapping at the bench. Thoughts spinning.

“How?” he asked again, quieter this time.

Percy scrunched his face in thought. “Dunno. I think it’s my sea magic or somethin’. Like—when I scared, Crabby move close. When I giggle, he do the silly dance.” He demonstrated with his hands. “Crabby dance.”

Crabby’s arms twitched again.

Hephaestus leaned in even closer. Slowly.

“…It’s not mechanical. There’s no wiring. No gears. No internal runes. But it’s moving. Reacting.”

He reached for Crabby carefully, with the same precision he used when forging celestial bronze.

Percy watched with a protective frown.

“Be nice. He gets shy.”

Hephaestus nodded solemnly. “Of course.”

He turned Crabby over in his hands, inspecting every stitch. His eyes flicked to Percy. “You said… you used to move him yourself?”

“Uh-huh.”

“And now he moves on his own. With your… sea magic.”

“Yup.”

“And… you made this plush?”

Percy puffed his chest. “With Daddy help. I sewed his eyes on! And I picked his fluff!”

A quiet kind of awe entered Hephaestus’s voice, though it never quite reached full emotion. “You made something. Then gave it life. You're quite the skilled builder and have an eye for design.”

Percy nodded like that was totally normal, unknowing to how rare a compliment with such approval was from Hephaestus.

Hephaestus sat back on his stool, still holding Crabby gently.

“…Huh.”

“What?”

“I think…” Hephaestus rubbed his beard. “I think I like you.”

Percy blinked. Then beamed.

“You wanna see Crabby’s backflip move? He only does it when I laugh super big.”

Hephaestus chuckled—just once. A short, startled kind of laugh, like he forgot how. “Sure, kid. Show me the backflip.”

And for a while, that’s what they did.

The forge still hissed.

The hammers still swung.

One lonely god and one wild little sea prince sat cross-legged at a workbench, making a plush crab do backflips like it was the most important invention in the world.

After a brief pause Hephaestus gave Crabby a long, assessing look.

“So. Armor.”

“YEAH!” Percy squealed, clutching his hands together like this was Christmas, birthday, and snack time all rolled into one. “Can you make him super strong armor? Like…RAWR armor!”

“Plush crab armor,” Hephaestus said dryly. “That’s a new one.”

Percy gasped. “He need it! For battle! What if monsters come? What if Toofy sits on him?!”

Hephaestus raised a brow. “Is Toofy the shark?”

“Yup. He’s fluffy but dangerous.”

“Huh.” He turned toward his wall of metals. “Alright. Let's start simple. Chest plate, claw guards, maybe a back brace.”

Percy clapped. “CRABBY GONNA BE A WAR HERO.”

Hephaestus pulled out a small slab of celestial bronze, about the size of a dinner plate. He placed it on the forge stone, heating it gently with controlled flame.

Percy’s eyes went wide. “Wha's dat metal?! It hot?! I touch it?!”

“Celestial bronze. Yes. No.”

“Why not?!”

“Because you’ll melt.”

Percy gasped, impressed. “MELT?! Like cheese?”

“Exactly like cheese,” Hephaestus muttered, reaching for his hammer.

As he began to shape the metal, Percy leaned over the bench, elbows on the edge, head in his hands. “Wha's dat tool? Wha's it do? Why it got a bendy handle? Why da hammer got little lines on it? Is dat fire smell or is dat you? Is your leg metal? You build it? Did it hurt? You ever build legs for other people? Could you build Toofy a leg even if he doesn’t need one just so he has a spare?”

Hephaestus didn’t respond for a full minute. Then, without looking up, he said:

“You ask a lot of questions.”

Percy blinked. “Is dat bad?”

“…No.” A pause. “Most people don’t ask. Or they get bored after one.”

Percy beamed. “I not bored! Dis the coolest thing ever! You makin’ crab armor. Wif lava tools. And metal cheese. And hammers dat sparkle.”

Hephaestus grunted. “This is a shaping hammer. Those lines you noticed? They give the armor texture and help with durability. See here?” He held up the first piece—a curved chest plate the size of a pancake. “This curve protects the softest part of him—his plushy core.”

“His tummy!” Percy whispered reverently.

“Sure.”

He moved to the grinding wheel next, sparks flying in little bursts as he smoothed the edges. Percy shrieked with delight and flailed so hard he knocked over a small bucket of screws.

“SORRY! I HELP?”

“No.”

“Okay! I watch!”

He did. Sort of. He wiggled a lot. He repeated every cool word Hephaestus said under his breath like he was learning a spell—“cuirass,” “tempering,” “heat-treat,” “flux.” He even tried to mimic hammer movements in the air with a paintbrush he found, nearly whacking himself in the head.

After a little while, Hephaestus sat back and inspected the pieces. He had formed a tiny segmented chest plate, two rounded claw bracers, and a little back-guard with scalloped etchings. Decorative, but balanced. He even engraved a mini volcano and hammer on the front. A possibly sentimental addition to commemorate this moment and a reminder of who made it.

Percy gasped when he saw them. Full, round, baby gasp.

“YOU MADE HIM A BATTLE SUIT.”

“Technically it’s light armor.”

“He’s gonna be a tank!”

Hephaestus chuckled under his breath as he carefully fitted the pieces to Crabby’s plush body. It was absurd. And it was... weirdly satisfying.

The final touch was a click-in claw guard that made a soft chink when it snapped in place.

“There,” Hephaestus said, leaning back. “Armored and ready.”

Percy picked Crabby up like he was holding something sacred. His hands shook with excitement.

“Lookit you,” he whispered to Crabby. “You SO ‘FANCY STRONG’ now.”

Crabby’s arm twitched upward with his claw bending towards his eye.

Salute mode.

Percy gasped.

He looked at Hephaestus, stars in his eyes. “He say thank you!”

Hephaestus, watching the stuffed crab salute in custom bronze armor, nodded slowly.

Percy was halfway through inspecting the armor when he suddenly paused, blinking wide-eyed.

“Hey… wait a minnut.”

He turned and pointed at Hephaestus, very serious.

“I dunno your name.”

Hephaestus looked up from where he was tightening a valve. “Huh?”

“You know my name,” Percy accused, hands on his hips. “And Crabby’s name. But I don’t know your name!”

Hephaestus blinked. “…We’ve been talking for an hour.”

“I KNOW.” Percy flopped dramatically onto his belly. “You a mystery man.”

There was a pause.

Then Hephaestus wiped his hands on a towel and said simply, “Hephaestus.”

Percy blinked again. “Heh… hess…”

“Heph-aes-tus.”

“Heff-a… fuss?”

“Close.”

“Heh-fish-tick?”

“…No.”

Percy squinted, lips moving silently as he tried to break it down. “Heff… fast… toots?”

Hephaestus gave a slow, deep sigh. “I am not correcting that one.”

Percy tried one more time—brow furrowed in the deepest toddler concentration. “Heff… fuss… tus.”

He paused. Looked proud. And then completely botched it: “Festythus.”

He slapped his forehead with both hands. “UGH! Is too HARD!”

"I call you Festy 'stead, kay Festy?"

Hephaestus, who had never had a nickname, felt mystified at this toddler who made him think interactions with real living beings may not be so bad, nodded stiffly. He was overwhelmed with feelings he had never felt.

Percy brightened instantly. “Okay, Festy!!” He floated closer and poked Hephaestus in the arm. “We friends now. You my cousin!”

“Wait, what?”

“You my cousin!” Percy repeated, very sure of himself. “You a gog! I a gog! You daddy is my daddy broda. Like Twon and me. That make us cousins! I tink…”

Hephaestus turned toward him slowly. “…You’re a god born to a brother of my father…Zeus?”

“Yup!” Percy gave a proud double nod. “First one in a big big long time daddy say.”

Hephaestus stared. His tools lowered an inch.

“You’re a godling.”

“Uh-huh.”

Hephaestus blinked. “Of what?”

Percy tilted his head. “I dunno yet. Daddy says I gotta grow into it.”

“…Who’s your father?”

Percy’s face lit up. “Oh I know dis now. Daddy, he name seison!!”

Hephaestus dropped his wrench. Even if it wasn't said correctly his father had two brothers and that didn't sound like Hades. Plus, it should be obvious the child's sneeze exploded a volcano and he is living underwater.

Crabby waved one claw sympathetically.

“…Poseidon has a toddler,” Hephaestus muttered. “Of course Poseidon has a toddler.”

Percy nodded cheerfully. “I’s born from seafoam and Daddy’s tears and love!” he said proudly, little chest puffing up. “Dat’s what he told me.”

Hephaestus just sat there for a second, gears clearly turning behind his eyes. Then he slowly, very slowly, stood up.

“I’m going to send your dad a message,” he said carefully. “Before he assumes I’ve kidnapped you and sends an earthquake to destroy my entire forge.”

Percy tilted his head. “Ooooh! You use a shark?”

Hephaestus gave a dry smile. “I’ve got just the one.”

He hobbled over to a side panel, opened a vault door, and pulled out a small mechanical shark—brass, elegant, with glowing eyes and propeller fins.

Percy gasped like it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“SHARKY FRIEND.”

Hephaestus placed a small etched rune inside its mouth and whispered, “To Poseidon. Forge. Not kidnapped. Mostly intact.”

The shark whirred to life and darted off into the water with a ping-ping! and a puff of steam.

“Okay,” Hephaestus muttered. “Now we wait.”

Percy beamed. “This da bestest cousin day ever.”

Poseidon’s footsteps echoed down the coral hall, each one heavier than the last.

He pushed open the ornate arch to Percy’s room without knocking, his expression equal parts fond and exasperated.

“Little one,” he called into the sea-swept silence, “I told you not to vanish after breakfast.”

No answer.

The bed was untouched. Crabby’s extra blankets were folded neatly in their usual pile by the alcove. A few coloring shells floated nearby, one of them still glowing faintly with half-finished scribbles.

No Percy.

Poseidon turned, eyes narrowing as he marched back down the corridor and locked his gaze on the two palace guards stationed nearby.

“Where is he?” he asked.

The older guard straightened. “He said he was going to find you, my lord.”

Poseidon blinked. “He said that… when?”

The guard frowned. “A few hours ago.”

Poseidon stared at him.

Then turned on his heel and muttered, “Oh no.”

Poseidon moved quickly through the palace, his expression slipping from amused to irritated to increasingly concerned. The moment he’d left Percy alone that morning, he should’ve known something like this would happen. His son didn’t just wander—he escaped. Gleefully. Repeatedly. Like it was a challenge.

He started his search where the guards said Percy was supposedly headed, the library. But like he predicted the room was empty—unless you counted the three enchanted scrolls scattered across the floor and a plush octopus that had been carefully propped up to look like it was reading them. There was even a little pearl necklace around the octopus’s neck, probably borrowed from a statue.

Next, he swept into the kitchens. No Percy there either. Just a conspicuous trail of cracker crumbs leading to an overturned mixing bowl and one dolphin trying very hard to look innocent as it hovered guiltily near a plate of seaweed cookies.

He moved on to the reef gardens, checking the nooks between coral pillars and the kelp maze. No sign of Percy—only a baby sea turtle floating in a bucket with a hand-scrawled sign hanging from it that read, in unmistakably messy handwriting: “baby don’t touch.”

By the time he reached the throne room, his shoulders were tight. It was empty—mostly. One of the royal messengers stood awkwardly near the fountain, his uniform streaked with what appeared to be green and blue finger paint. Poseidon gave him a look. The messenger slowly turned and walked the other way.

And then came the artifact vault.

Locked. As it should be.

But Poseidon leaned in, squinting.

There, on the shimmering crystal glass of the outer panel, was a single sticky handprint. Small. Smudged. Unmistakably Percy.

Poseidon groaned and ran both hands down his face. The beginnings of divine panic were creeping into his chest, winding their way up his spine like rising pressure in the deep. His search was quickly shifting from routine to real worry.

“Where are you, little one…” he murmured.

Poseidon’s pace quickened as he turned down the corridor that led to the royal stables, his footsteps echoing off the coralstone. A familiar pressure had settled behind his ribs now—not anger, not yet—but the heavy, tightening kind of worry only a father could feel. The kind that rose with every second you didn’t hear your child’s voice echoing back when you called.

The moment he stepped into the stables, he knew something was wrong.

The water here was unusually still. Calm.

Too calm.

His eyes swept the rows of neatly arranged harness racks, the coral-carved saddles, the resting sea creatures in their pens. Seahorses. Turtles. Rays.

But no Toofy.

Poseidon’s gaze landed on the empty pen near the far wall—the one with the reinforced coral beams, bite-scarred from persistent baby teeth. Toofy’s pen.

Empty.

The stablemaster, busy feeding a stubborn hippocampus, noticed the god’s silence and turned. “My lord?”

“Where is he?” Poseidon asked, voice low.

The stablemaster blinked. “Prince Percy? I haven’t seen him since morning. Why?”

Poseidon didn’t answer. He turned sharply, storming from the stables, the water rippling violently in his wake. He barely noticed the startled fish scattering out of his way.

His hand moved to his chest, fingers hovering just above the divine tether—the thin, glowing thread that pulsed faintly with his son’s presence ever since he began to anchor and his divinity had grown. The connection was dormant for now, subtle. But if he focused, if he called Percy’s name aloud, he could follow it. He could track him. Could appear in an instant wherever his son was—

A last resort. One he never used unless he had to.

And right now, he was close.

Just as his mental fingers brushed the divine tether—something pinged against his leg.

Poseidon looked down sharply, startled out of his gathering power.

A tiny mechanical shark bobbed in front of him, fins whirring quietly, bronze eyes glowing with a faint orange hue. It wiggled in place once, tail flicking cheerfully, then rotated midwater and opened its mouth with a metallic click.

A puff of steam. A mechanical chime.

And then—Hephaestus’s gravel-thick voice, projected in perfect clarity:

“Not kidnapped. Your kid’s in my forge. Mostly intact. His plush crab has armor now.”

Poseidon stared.

For one long, unblinking moment, he just… stood there. Processing.

Then he let out a breath that stirred the kelp lining the corridor. The tension dropped from his shoulders like a falling anchor.

He muttered something too ancient to translate under his breath, then glanced down at the shark.

It blinked twice at him. Happily.

“…Of course it’s Hephaestus,” Poseidon said, rubbing his face.

The shark beeped once more, wiggled its fins, and zipped away down the corridor.

Poseidon shook his head, but there was a faint, helpless smile tugging at the edge of his mouth now.

“Crabby has armor.”

The forge was quiet.

No clanging. No hissing vents. No skittering tools or sparking runes. Just the low, warm pulse of the hearth-glow and the faint, slow breathing of a very small sea god.

Hephaestus sat on a bench made from scrap metal, the edges still rough where he hadn’t bothered to smooth them out. He didn’t mind. He wasn’t paying attention to the bench.

In his arms, tucked into the crook of his elbow, Percy slept. Mouth slightly open, hair floating like sea grass, Crabby clutched protectively to his chest in one tiny fist. His armored crab limbs gleamed faintly, perfectly fitted to the plush’s uneven seams.

Hephaestus studied the boy’s face, cataloging the soft curve of his cheek, the little crease between his eyebrows, the way he clung to his stuffed toy even in sleep.

He hadn’t held someone like this in... he couldn’t remember.

He liked making things. Machines didn’t squirm or cry. They didn’t ask questions. They didn’t demand things or hurt you the way living things did.

Machines didn’t need anything from him.

But Percy?

Percy was special. He wasn't concerned with his looks of deformities. He was interested in his building. He asked about everything. About every bolt. Every flame. Every tool.

And he’d listened.

Not like mortals, who asked to be polite.

Not like gods, who asked to feel superior.

Percy had asked because he wanted to know.

Hephaestus’s hand hovered briefly over the boy’s back, then rested there lightly—just three fingers which took up the entire expanse of little Percy's back. The soft weight of trust settled around him, quiet and solid as a forging hammer after a long day.

He didn’t move when the golden ripple of power shimmered into the room behind him.

Poseidon stepped out of the current.

His trident shimmered beside him, but it wasn’t raised. His eyes swept the room once—instinctively checking for threats—and then landed on the bench.

On the sleeping toddler curled into the arm of the god of fire.

Poseidon froze.

It wasn’t just seeing Percy like that—it was seeing Hephaestus. Holding him like something fragile and irreplaceable.

The forge god looked over slowly. “He’s asleep.”

Poseidon nodded once. “I see that.”

Hephaestus adjusted his grip a fraction, keeping Percy’s head supported. “Exhausted himself.”

A pause.

“…He tends to do that,” Poseidon said softly.

Another pause.

“Thank you,” Poseidon added. “And… I apologize. For him finding his way here. He can be... persistent.”

Hephaestus shrugged with one shoulder, careful not to jostle the boy. “Didn’t mind.”

Poseidon tilted his head. “Still. You didn’t ask for this.”

“Everything starts with a break in the pattern,” Hephaestus murmured, surprising himself. Then, after a second, “He didn’t break anything. Much.”

Poseidon’s lips twitched.

“He’s curious,” Hephaestus went on, glancing down at the boy. “Wants to understand how things work. Asked about alloys. Tool shapes. Flame temperature. Sat still for five minutes watching me shape a joint. Five minutes.”

“That’s a record,” Poseidon said.

“Didn’t just repeat what I said. He remembered. Asked follow-ups. Drew diagrams with a stick in the soot.”

Poseidon was quiet.

Hephaestus wasn’t saying it with wide eyes or excitement. He was just... speaking. Calm. Thoughtful. Full sentences.

And that’s when Poseidon noticed it—really noticed it.

Hephaestus didn’t talk like this to anyone. Not to Aphrodite. Not to Hermes. Not to Poseidon himself. He rarely spoke unless it was necessary. And when he did, it was sharp, technical, brief. Like his words were machines—made for function, not feeling.

But this?

This wasn’t function.

This was care.

Poseidon looked down at Percy, watching the little rise and fall of his chest, the relaxed fingers curled in sleep. His son—small, chaotic, bright. Somehow, in just a few hours, he had burrowed beneath centuries of solitude and sparked something new in his cousin.

Poseidon swallowed quietly.

“I haven’t... done right by you,” he said suddenly.

Hephaestus looked up.

Poseidon gave a small shake of his head. “I didn’t check on you. Not after... well. After anything, really.”

Hephaestus didn’t respond.

“But you were kind to my son,” Poseidon said. “So I’ll do better. From now on.”

A long beat passed. Then Hephaestus said, “He’s a good kid.”

Poseidon smiled.

Then Hephaestus asked, “Why haven’t you presented him?”

Poseidon blinked. “To Olympus?”

Hephaestus nodded.

“He’s... anchoring his divinity,” Poseidon said after a moment. “Still stabilizing. He wasn’t born in a usual way. There was seafoam and... my grief. The power of my love and desire for a child made him real. But he’s still forming. His domains aren’t set. Until he’s more secure in himself, I won’t put him before the others.”

Hephaestus ran a hand down Percy’s back in one slow motion. “Smart.”

Poseidon hesitated. “I’d ask you not to share this.”

Hephaestus snorted softly. “Who’m I gonna tell?”

Poseidon let out a quiet chuckle. “Fair enough.”

For a moment, silence wrapped around them. The forge hissed softly in the background. Crabby floated up just slightly and gave a gentle wave with one armored claw.

Poseidon shook his head and smiled.

“Plush armor,” he muttered.

“Functional plush armor,” Hephaestus corrected.

“Of course.”

Poseidon stepped forward slowly, careful not to wake his little boy nestled in his nephews arms. Percy was still limp with sleep, one arm flopped protectively over Crabby and the other loosely hooked around the edge of Hephaestus’s tunic.

Hephaestus hadn’t moved to hand Percy over since Poseidon arrived.

Purely because—quietly, unexpectedly—he didn’t want to let go.

Poseidon reached out with both arms, a silent gesture requesting. Hephaestus shifted carefully, adjusting his grip as he transferred Percy over. Percy stirred the moment his body left the warm space of Hephaestus’s chest.

A soft, drowsy whimper escaped his lips.

Poseidon caught him easily.

“Sshh, little one. It’s alright. I’ve got you,” he whispered.

But Percy’s eyes squinted open, just a little. Cloudy with sleep. Confused.

“Festy…?” he mumbled, voice thick and gravelly from his nap.

“I’m here,” Hephaestus said quietly.

Percy blinked at him, sluggishly taking in the room. He first noticed his dady who he gave a bright smile. Then he turned toward Hephaestus again, reaching out one pudgy arm like it took everything in him to make the motion.

“Huggy,” he mumbled.

Poseidon stilled.

Hephaestus’s brows lifted—startled—but he leaned in all the same. Percy threw both arms around his neck with the softest "mmmph," burying his face in Hephaestus’s shoulder for a long, squishy second.

“I love you, Festy,” Percy mumbled against his ear. “You da best machine man. Gonna tell Crabby ev’ry day ‘bout you.”

Hephaestus swallowed hard.

He didn’t do well with this part. With softness. With affection that wasn’t manufactured in bolts or built into steel joints.

But he nodded, and placed one careful, metal-fingered hand on top of Percy’s curls.

“Goodbye, kid,” he said, voice quieter than it had been all day. Then, after a beat, he added, “Stay sturdy, little sprocket.”

Percy gave one last sleepy giggle before his head dropped against Poseidon’s shoulder and he drifted back into his nap.

Poseidon looked at Hephaestus, brow softened. “That was… kind.”

Hephaestus didn’t meet his eyes. Just crossed his arms again, grunted, and looked off toward the far end of the forge.

“Kid rattled something loose in me.”

Poseidon’s expression shifted. A pause. Then the smallest smile ghosted across his face—one of quiet understanding.

“I’ll bring him back sometime. If you want.”

Hephaestus didn’t answer. Not directly. But one of the nearby mechanical arms creaked to life and gave a lazy, slow wave in farewell.

Poseidon took that as a yes.

Chapter Text

It happened just after breakfast.

Poseidon was in the council chamber, seated at the head of a long table made from woven coral and sea-glass. Advisors spoke in practiced tones, reviewing reef restoration updates and trade routes through the western currents.

He was trying—really, he was—to focus.

But his mind kept drifting back to Percy. Had he eaten enough? Did he finish his juice? Had he kept his seaweed wrap from becoming a kelp-on-the-floor disaster?

Then—

Whoosh.

A whirl of bubbles exploded beside the throne.

Poseidon snapped to attention just in time to catch a small, giggling boy mid-float as he appeared from thin water, arms wide and curls trailing behind him like a comet of joy.

“Daddy!”

Poseidon blinked. “Percy?!”

Percy wrapped himself around Poseidon’s chest like a barnacle with a mission. “I founded you!”

“You… found me?” Poseidon repeated, stunned.

The advisors had stopped talking. One of them dropped their shell tablet.

“I want snuggies an’ you no at breakfast no more,” Percy said matter-of-factly. 

Poseidon’s heart felt like it swelled to twice its size. He held Percy tighter, stunned. “You teleported.”

Percy pulled back just enough to beam up at him. “I whooshed!”

Poseidon stared down at his son—the brilliant spark of divine-magic still clinging to his skin like glittering foam, his cheeks flushed with excitement—and felt something stir in his chest.

This wasn’t just a trick of magic.

This was their connection. Their bond.

The sea had answered his child’s longing—and carried him straight into his arms.

He stood up, holding Percy close, eyes shining. “Your first teleportation,” he said in awe. “Your first true godly act.”

Percy looked very proud. “I real good at it.”

“You’re perfect at it,” Poseidon whispered. “My clever, powerful little sea star.”

Behind them, an advisor cleared their throat nervously. “My lord… does this mean he can… go anywhere?”

Poseidon’s joy dimmed slightly with the realization.

Not yet. But soon.

Percy’s emotions were strong—too strong. And since early teleportation culminated through instincts and feeling…

Poseidon pressed a kiss to his hair. “Not without training,” he murmured. “But we’ll keep him close.”

The “whooshing” didn’t stop.

In fact, it became a part of Poseidon’s daily life—as natural as tides or storms.

One morning, in the middle of court, as ambassadors debated trench border rights, a shimmer of bubbles curled into existence beneath the throne. With a soft pop of displaced water, Percy emerged—blanket half-draped, curls mussed, and clutching a smudged drawing of glitter-glue and shells.

“You forgotted your picture,” Percy said solemnly.

Poseidon didn’t hesitate. He reached down with both hands and pulled his son into his lap, folding the parchment against his chest like it was woven from gold.

A few startled courtiers murmured. Poseidon ignored them.

This—this—was more important.

Because it wasn’t just a drawing. It was the way Percy had come.

Poseidon could still feel the residual tug of divine energy, still tinged with seawater and the flicker of something much more personal—emotional.

The boy had “whooshed” straight to him. Not just through the sea, but through love. Through connection.

Through him.

Poseidon held Percy closer, arms curled tight, his heart thudding.

It was instinctive, raw and it had chosen him.

Later that week, while sparring with Triton in the outer ring of the training grounds, Poseidon turned mid-parry—only to feel the now-familiar sensation of a small form attaching itself to his leg.

“You takin’ too long,” Percy mumbled, latching on like a sea barnacle.

Triton yelped and dropped his trident. Poseidon just laughed, lifting his son into the air like a prize catch. “And what mission brings you here, little star?”

“I bored,” Percy said gravely. “Needed snuggies and daddy give da bestest.”

Poseidon pressed a kiss to his temple, the warmth blooming in his chest all over again.

Even in official visits—reviewing kelp harvests or hearing council reports—Percy would appear. A swirl of tide, a flicker of seafoam, and there he was. Always to him.

Each time felt like a heartbeat that had never beaten before. A milestone that was theirs.

And Poseidon—King of the Seas, Earthshaker, god of storms—counted every single one like a treasure.

Because this magic wasn’t just divine-born. It was love-born.

And that made it sacred.

That Night

They curled up together on the sea-silk bed, Crabby tucked between them.

“You whooshed real good today,” Poseidon whispered.

Percy giggled sleepily. “I do ‘gain morrow.”

Poseidon chuckled and pulled him closer. “Of course, my little one. I’ll always be here to catch you.”

But even as he smiled, a flicker of worry rested behind his eyes.

If Percy could teleport through love… and his love kept growing… how far could he go?

Poseidon didn’t know.

But he swore on the ocean’s deepest current:

He would always make sure his little sea star found his way home.

It had started with joy.

The first time Percy had whooshed into his arms mid-meeting, sea-silk cape trailing behind him like a storm banner, Poseidon had nearly wept with pride.

But later—when the halls grew quiet, and the world settled—he’d found himself remembering all the firsts he’d missed.

The first laugh.

The first word.

The first wobbly step into Sally’s waiting arms.

He would never have those. They belonged to a life cut short. To a boy who had once been mortal.

But this?

This was his.

His little boy, curled fast asleep against his chest, cheek pressed to his tunic and Crabby clutched tightly in one arm. The warmth of his godly presence pulsed softly with each breath. Anchoring. Growing.

Not just a child—but a godling. One who had ascended, who now walked the ocean as divine. And Poseidon had been there to witness his first teleportation.

It made everything else worth it.

Across the room, Amphitrite sat in a coral-carved chair, a half-finished seaweed quilt stretched between her hands. Beside Poseidon, Triton quietly reviewed scrolls, making the occasional note in his steady, flowing hand.

It was a rare moment of peace.

Poseidon broke the silence, voice soft with wonder. “Can you believe he’s already teleporting?”

Amphitrite smiled faintly. “It’s not so surprising. Now that the people have begun to worship him, his power is finding shape. Anchoring.”

“He doesn’t even know how,” Triton muttered, still writing. “He just poofed right into our sparring circle. I nearly struck him by accident.”

Poseidon’s smile faltered slightly. “That’s my concern too. As sweet as it is… the bond that guides him can’t protect him from every risk. We’ll need to teach him how to control it.”

“Right,” Triton said, setting his scroll aside. “Because getting Percy to moderate anything is going to go great.”

Poseidon smirked. “You’re just the instructor he needs.”

Triton groaned. “Of course I am.”

Poseidon ruffled his son’s hair absently. “I’ll help. Of course.”

From across the room, Amphitrite spoke again, her voice quiet but certain. “It’s guided by love.”

Poseidon glanced at her.

She nodded toward Percy. “His teleportation. It isn’t random—it’s tied to the sea and to you. He’s not seeking places. He’s seeking connection. Safety. Familiarity. You are all three.”

Triton raised an eyebrow. “So he might eventually start appearing near anyone he loves?”

Amphitrite gave a thoughtful hum. “If the bond is strong enough, and he feels the pull… yes.”

“That’s not terrifying at all,” Triton muttered. “We’re one missed nap away from him popping into the forges or the underworld.”

Poseidon exhaled slowly, tightening his grip just slightly around his sleeping son. “Then we begin training.”

There was a beat of silence before Amphitrite added, her tone curious now, “Have either of you noticed the… pattern?”

Triton tilted his head. “What pattern?”

“He seeks out the ones who are furthest from the center,” she said. “The ones often overlooked. He draws them in.”

Poseidon’s eyes flicked toward her. “You think it’s a domain.”

She nodded. “It would make sense. His empathy isn’t learned—it’s woven into his being. Look at Hades. Kym. Even me.”

Triton frowned. “He got me wrapped around his finger in a week.”

Amphitrite smiled. “Exactly. He reaches the edges and brings them in. It’s healing, in its own way.”

Poseidon looked down at the peaceful boy in his arms, lashes curled against his cheek, the rise and fall of his chest steady with the slow rhythm of the sea.

“Then it may be the start of something new,” he said quietly. “A domain the sea has not seen, nor held before.”

Triton leaned back, folding his arms. “First we teach him to stop whooshing into duels. Then we’ll talk domains.”

Poseidon chuckled, but his eyes never left Percy. His heart was full—and brimming with something bigger than pride.

Hope.

The water shimmered with soft turquoise light, refracted through the coral canopy above. The training arena had been cleared—no weapons, no soldiers—just a wide expanse of calm currents and open space.

Poseidon stood at the center with his trident planted next to him. Beside him, Triton crossed his arms already bracing himself.

In front of them, Percy spun in a slow circle, his baby trident held like a wand, seaweed ribbons fluttering behind him like a cape.

“I can do it,” Percy said confidently, then tripped over his own foot and blinked up at them from the sand. “Dat was warm-up.”

Poseidon chuckled. “Alright, my little star. First, we’re going to teach you how to feel the sea.”

“I alre'y feels it,” Percy said, plopping onto the ground and patting it. “It squishy.”

Triton knelt beside him. “No, not with your hands. Feel it here.” He tapped Percy’s chest. “In your heart. You’re the sea’s son. You don’t just swim in it—you are part of it.”

Percy blinked at him, then looked down at his own chest like it might start glowing.

Poseidon knelt too, his voice soft. “Close your eyes, little one. Breathe with the current. The ocean knows you. Listen to it.”

Percy’s nose scrunched, but he obeyed, squeezing his eyes shut and puffing out a long, dramatic breath.

Silence.

Then—

A swirl.

The currents shifted.

Gentle ribbons of water began to dance around him, spiraling upward in little loops causing the seaweed ribbons of his cape to swirl. Sea-silt lifted in slow spirals, catching the light. The coral canopy above flickered with motion as if the ocean itself had paused to look.

Poseidon inhaled sharply.

“He’s doing it,” Triton murmured.

Percy opened one eye. “It’s tickly!”

The currents bounced.

He giggled—and the swirl broke, water sloshing as the flow tumbled into an underwater-like splash before dispersing in a cascade of bubbles. The disturbed sea-silt causing the water to become murky before beginning to settle. Percy blinked at the mess he made, then grinned wide. “I made da sea do dance!”

Poseidon laughed and gathered him into his arms. “You are the dance, little one. That was perfect.”

Triton brushed seaweed from his shoulder. “Good. Now let’s try the second part.”

Percy tilted his head. “More whooshin’?”

“Yes,” Poseidon said gently, setting him back down. “Now that you’ve felt the sea, we want you to feel… me.”

Percy beamed. “I always feel you! You big and strong.”

“I mean the bond between us,” Poseidon said, pressing a hand to Percy’s chest. “Right here. Just like your connection to the sea you can connect to me. When you ‘whoosh’ to me, it’s that connection guiding you. But soon, you might feel others you love too as your powers grow—so you need to practice feeling it and choosing.”

Percy frowned, clearly trying to take this very seriously. He puffed out his cheeks, squeezed his eyes shut again, and stood like a coral statue.

Triton leaned close. “Feel Father's presence. Use your love to guide you. Where is he?”

Percy pointed without opening his eyes. “There.”

Poseidon stepped to the left.

Percy’s finger followed. “There now.”

Triton raised a brow. “Okay, creepy accurate.”

“Good,” Poseidon said, amused. “Now, imagine reaching for that feeling and tugging on it—but don’t teleport yet.”

“I can whoosh, now?”

“No,” both gods said in unison.

Percy pouted. “Fine. But soon I whoosh.”

Poseidon knelt and took his hands. “Soon. Right now, just practice feeling where I am—even if I move. This is how we teach your power to listen.”

Percy nodded solemnly, then suddenly looked over his shoulder and gasped. “There’s a crab!”

“No Perc—”

Too late.

Percy swam swiftly mid-sentence toward the crab, giggling wildly using his new powers to push himself faster through the current.

Triton sighed. “And there goes our student.”

Poseidon smiled softly as Percy zoomed around the training field chasing the startled crab and yelling, “I sense your power, Mr. Crab!”

“He’s three,” Poseidon said with a shrug. “This is exactly right.”

Triton shook his head, a fond grin tugging at his mouth. “I’ll round him up.”

Poseidon leaned on his trident, watching as Percy chased the crab through sea grass, face full of laughter and light.

He had a long way to go.

But he was getting there.

And he would never have to do it alone.

Triton finally caught Percy just as he attempted to ride the startled crab like a noble steed.

“No, Commander Barnacle,” he sighed, scooping the slippery toddler into his arms. “The crustaceans are not your cavalry.”

Percy giggled, kicking his feet in the water. “But he’s fast!”

“And traumatized,” Triton muttered, setting him down gently.

Poseidon approached, amusement still dancing in his eyes. “Alright, little sea star. Let’s try something new.”

Percy perked up immediately, attention back on the lesson. “I get to whoosh now?”

“Yes,” Poseidon said with a nod. “But this time, not to me.”

Percy blinked. “Not to Daddy?”

Triton knelt beside him. “You’re going to try finding me this time.”

Percy frowned in concentration. “But… you not Daddy.”

“No,” Poseidon said gently, brushing a curl from his forehead. “But you love him too, don’t you?”

“Lots,” Percy said quickly, then paused. “But the whooshy part always go to Daddy.”

Poseidon crouched in front of him, resting a steadying hand on his tiny shoulder. “That’s because our bond is the strongest right now. You’ve always been drawn to it. Tell me, seashell—what does it feel like? When you reach for me?”

Percy wriggled in place, little brows scrunched as he tried to describe the feeling that tugged at his chest every time he thought about his daddy.

“It’s like…” he mumbled, thumb brushing over the tiny swirl of water that danced across his palm. “Like when you hold me at night an’ I no feel scared no more. An' when you kiss my hair an’ say I’m your sea star.”

He touched his chest with both hands. “Feels all floaty in here. Like warm waves on tippy toes. Like I drinked too much happy.”

Poseidon knelt beside him, his eyes fixed on his son, heart thundering behind his ribs.

“An’—an’ sometimes I feel like I gots a sun inside me,” Percy whispered, as if telling a sacred secret. “But not hot-hot. Just bright. Bright like Daddy smiles. It wiggles an’ makes me wanna laugh an’ cry ‘cause it’s so big-big.”

Triton looked down, startled by the soft punch of feeling in his chest.

He giggled faintly. “You make all da scary float away. You da thing that keeps da bad dreams 'way. You da hug I feel even when I can’t see you.”

Poseidon’s throat closed.

He reached forward with reverent hands and pulled Percy close, curling a protective arm around his tiny back.

And for a moment, the god of the sea just held his son—tide-churned heart full to bursting, tethered completely to the tiny miracle who didn’t yet realize how profoundly he had just given his whole soul away.

“That’s your love for me and my love for you. Now… can you think about Triton?”

Triton knelt, bracing himself. 

Percy tilted his head, chewing his lip. “But… you not da sea.”

“No,” Triton chuckled. “But I’m your big brother. That counts for something, doesn’t it?”

Percy blinked slowly, then touched his own chest with both hands. “It feel… smaller,” he said softly. “Not like Daddy’s big wave. But it’s warm. An’ glowy.”

Triton raised a brow. “Glowy?”

Percy nodded seriously. “Like da fishies dat live in dark and make caves not scary. You do that. You make da dark feel not-bad.”

Triton froze.

Percy’s brow scrunched. “You always play with me. Even when you got big grown-up ‘sponsibilities. You say ‘one game’ but we do lots. Even when I make you ‘hausted.”

Triton made a noise that might’ve been a laugh. Or a gasp. Or both.

“You teach me how to hold da fork like a prince,” Percy continued, ticking off fingers. “An’ how to sit tall. An’ how to sword with da stick that don’t poke eyes. An’ how to not bite guards. ‘Cept when dey deserve it.”

Poseidon coughed discreetly into his fist.

“But mostly…” Percy trailed off, then tapped his chest again. “You make me feel big. Like I can be a hero too. Like I can be a Twiton.”

Triton’s expression crumpled with something fierce and tender.

“I knows you get busy,” Percy added solemnly. “Sometimes you run off all fast. But den you come back and say, ‘Sorry shrimp.’ And we play. So I know you love me big.”

Triton couldn’t speak.

He couldn’t even breathe.

Poseidon placed a hand gently on his son’s shoulder, his expression full of awe.

Percy grinned. “Okay. Gonna pull on da glowy now.”

He clenched his little fists, face all scrunched up, and yanked.

In a flash of sea-current and joy, Percy disappeared—then slammed into Triton’s chest a heartbeat later, knocking them both backward in a swirl of bubbles and laughter.

“I DO IT!” Percy crowed from Triton’s lap.

Triton stared up at the coral canopy above, arms still wrapped around the small, wiggling bundle.

“See, Twon? You my shiny glowy fish-light big bro bro,” Percy giggled, patting his face. “You mine.”

Triton choked on a laugh and crushed him close. “You’re lucky you’re cute, shrimp.”

Percy leaned his cheek against Triton’s shoulder. “I love you big much.”

Poseidon, watching it all, felt his heart lurch—full and wild and aching.

“You’re his blueprint,” he murmured to Triton.

And Triton, eyes glinting with tears and joy, said hoarsely, “Then I’ll teach him how to shine.”

Chapter Text

The fishie fort was warm.

The jelly lights glowed soft above the bed, gently swaying like sleepy sea stars. Crabby was curled under Percy’s chin, his plush claws tucked against Percy’s cheek. The sea outside hummed with slow waves and lullabies too quiet to hear but too deep to forget.

Everything was cozy.

Everything was safe.

But Percy’s chest felt funny.

His toes wiggled. His fingers curled. And in his dreams, something was starting.

The sun was bright.

Too bright.

There was a beach—a real one like he had seen in his story books benthe read to him, not the pretend kind with coral dust or kelp towers. Sand that squished between your toes and made your fingers warm when you touched it. The ocean danced nearby, big and blue, full of sparkle.

A lady stood in the sunlight. Her hair was brown and soft like, flying in the wind like seaweed ribbons. She smiled.

She waved.

She called to him—he thought—but the words didn’t come right. They were all wobbly and quiet like bubble-talk underwater.

Still… she looked happy. Familiar. Safe.

Percy’s feet moved.

He ran. Arms open. Crabby forgotten. The sand flew behind him.

And then— The sky changed. The water roared. A wave came.

Too big. Too loud. Too wrong.

The lady turned.

And vanished.

A scream echoed—not hers.

His.

“Mommy—!”

The sea swallowed the word. The wind tore it away.

And then the beach was empty.

Just water.

Just Percy.

Alone.

He woke up with a tiny gasp, Crabby squished so tight his plush legs were wrinkled.

The fishie fort was still glowing. The sea still hummed.

But his cheeks were wet.

Percy sniffled.

Didn’t cry.

Just… trembled.

His arms curled tighter around Crabby. His knees pulled close. His chest felt too big and too small all at once.

“I… I don’t…” he mumbled, rubbing his eye with the back of his hand.

He didn’t remember the dream. Not really.

There had been light. And sand. And maybe someone calling him. Maybe.

But his heart hurt.

His floaty place—the one Daddy told him to listen to when his feelings got loud—was full. Overflowing.

“Why’m I sad?” he whispered.

There was no answer.

Just the gentle sound of the sea kissing the walls, as if it didn’t know either.

He pressed a little hand to his chest.

It buzzed. Warm and hurt-y. Like when you hold tears in too long and they make your tummy ache.

“Okay…” he mumbled.

And then—

He grabbe on.

To the sadness. To the ache.

And he reached inside where the floaty feelings lived—

—and pulled.

Whoosh.

He landed on damp sand.

The night air smelled like real salt, and the waves whispered nearby like they were trying to be quiet for him.

Percy blinked.

His feet were bare. The stars blinked above. And the ocean stretched out in front of him, dark and endless and soft.

He didn’t recognize this place.

But…

He knew this place.

His toes curled in the sand. It felt different from the floors of the palace. Drier. Earthier. Like it had secrets under it.

Crabby was still in his arms.

Percy held him tight and walked forward slowly, little feet squishing into the cold beach as the tide rolled in and out like slow breathing.

“I tink I been here 'fore,” he whispered.

No one answered.

The moon was up high now. The wind was soft. The sea didn’t roar—it just lapped gently against the shore.

Percy wandered until his legs felt tired.

Then he sat down.

Right at the edge of the water.

Crabby in his lap. Percy eyes watched the water like it might talk to him.

But all it said was shhh.

Percy didn’t remember what he lost.

But his chest did.

And it wouldn’t stop aching.

The stars over Camp Half-Blood were unusually bright.

Too cheerful.

Dionysus leaned back in his desk chair with a sigh, one foot propped on the edge of a filing cabinet labeled “Absolutely Useless Demigod Reports.” He held a goblet in his hand—slender-stemmed, elegant. It shimmered faintly in the firelight.

The wine inside was deep red, fragrant, and older than the Pyramids.

He stared at it like it had offended him.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he muttered.

The wine didn’t respond.

He brought it to his lips.

Paused.

Then, with a disgusted grunt, snapped his fingers.

Pop. The wine vanished, replaced by carbonated shame.

Diet Coke fizzed bitterly up the rim.

He took a sip and winced. “Revolting.”

He swirled the cup. Watched the bubbles rise and fall like failed dreams.

This was his life now.

The god of wine—reduced to glorified babysitter, forced into sobriety, surrounded by the children of those who didn't claim them and those who did were never allowed to visit.

His children who he wouldn't be able to be a true father too.

And everyone else’s.

The punishment hadn’t fit the crime. Not really. He had chased a nymph. One. A mortal girl his father had already marked. It was petty, yes. But was it worth this?

A hundred years exiled from his domain. A hundred years denied.

It was said to be justice.

But justice had long since lost its meaning on Olympus.

It wasn’t justice—it was paranoia.

Zeus had become erratic. Fearful. Quick to punish, slow to reflect. He ruled like a boy clutching a crown too big for his head, convinced that every shadow was rebellion.

This wasn’t the father Dionysus remembered.

Zeus used to stand for something. For law. For honor. Justice. For the swift action and power of lightning tempered by wisdom.

Now?

Now he was a shell of what he had been.

Dionysus had watched it happen—watched Olympus twist beneath the weight of its own pride. Watched the gods become imitations of themselves, their glory fading like old marble left to crack in the wind.

They were still powerful. Still dangerous.

But where was the purpose?

Where was the awe?

Their worship had thinned. Their temples had emptied. And still they clung to control, punishing their own out of fear they might no longer be needed.

He had been punished not for a true crime, but for being insolent.

And because Dionysus had dared—had won—his father stripped him of wine, of revelry, of his name’s true power.

And gave him this.

A backwater camp.

A desk.

A list of names that couldn't mean anything to him.

Children he couldn’t truly care for, yet called to do so.

A life made of leash and silence and compromise.

And wasn’t that just the perfect madness?

The god who saw the cracks before they formed—tasked with isolation from those fractures. The god of unraveling madness—made to rot in silence.

All while Olympus frayed at the edges, too blind with pride to notice it was already coming apart.

His jaw clenched.

He looked toward the woods—dark and distant, just visible through his window.

Camp Half-Blood pulsed with quiet energy, the heartbeat of half-forgotten gods and half-formed legacies. He could feel the dreams in the cabins. The pain.

Demigods pretending not to cry.

The ancient laws indicated they could not intervene or get involved. Yet he was forced to be here. Given hollow authority in which he could be present and do nothing.

And Dionysus felt everything.

He was not the god of apathy. He was the god of losing yourself. Of feeling so much that the world cracked. Of madness which was often achieved through intense emotions.

He felt their anger.

He felt their loneliness.

He felt their disappointment—when they realized their godly parent wasn’t coming. Wasn’t watching. Didn’t care.

He got it.

Because he cared.

And that was the problem.

It was easier to get names wrong. Easier to act like he didn’t notice the birthdays. Easier to pretend like he didn’t care any differntly when his sons finally arrived.

Because the moment he stopped pretending?

It would hurt.

It always hurt.

So he didn’t.

His eyes dropped to the goblet.

He stared at the soda again.

He hated that it wasn’t wine. Hated more that he had stopped fighting it.

He opened his mouth to curse the sky—

And froze.

It hit him like a hammer.

A spike of noise—emotional, divine, broken.

He gasped and stood abruptly, knocking over his chair. The goblet fell and rolled onto the floor.

It wasn’t just grief.

It wasn’t just confusion.

It was raw madness, the kind born not from chaos—but from a sorrow so big it can fracture the mind.

His pulse quickened as he reached out his divine senses.

His breath caught.

It was nearby.

Without thinking, Dionysus disappeared in a swirl of shadowed grape leaves and starlight.

The goblet lay forgotten on the floor, fizzing softly as the soda went flat.

The beach near Montauk was quiet—too quiet.

No wind. No seagulls. Just the hush of waves brushing against the shore like they were afraid to be loud.

Dionysus arrived with the scent of salt and something sharp beneath it.

Grief.

It clung to the air like fog, heavy and raw, as if someone had tried to cry the sea into being and failed halfway through. The feeling pulled at his chest—not with drama, but with something quieter. Heavier.

It settled in his lungs. In his bones.

Someone was hurting.

Badly.

He walked a few steps forward, sandals brushing over the damp sand. At first, he didn’t see anyone.

Then his eyes adjusted.

There—small. Still. Sitting right at the edge of the surf, barely noticeable against the gray curve of the beach in the moonlight night.

A child.

Dionysus frowned.

He didn’t move closer yet. Just watched.

The boy was tiny—toddler-sized, maybe three years old. He was barefoot, hugging a plush crab to his chest, knees drawn in, head bowed. He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. The waves kissed his toes and receded. He stayed still.

Too still.

Dionysus narrowed his eyes.

No child this age should’ve been able to get this close to camp unnoticed and without help.

His next thought was about the grief.

It came off the boy in slow waves—real, choking sorrow. Not tantrum-sad. Not attention-sad.

The kind of sad that sank like a weight threatening to drown you. The kind that didn’t make noise because there was no room left to cry.

Dionysus exhaled. “Great,” he muttered. “Another demigod dumped where someone didn’t want to deal with them.”

He didn’t even have the energy to be sarcastic.

This wasn’t unusual.

Gods dropped kids like bad habits. Left them at the edges of camps and cities and cabins, hoping someone else would clean up their legacy. He’d seen it before.

Too many times.

He’d even done it himself.

But this?

This was worse.

Because this one wasn’t just abandoned.

This one was breaking.

He took a step forward, letting the tide run over his sandals. Using his domain to tap into the madness and grief, he sees snippets and flashes of a woman and an attack, blurry around the edges indicating it is subconscious. He feels the grief and knows that this is the trauma the child is dealing with. That his conscious mind is protecting against.

He could feel the spiral already happening—the beginning of emotional collapse. Not loud. Not dramatic.

Just… folding in.

One layer at a time.

He could almost see the shape of it in the boy’s posture.

The way his arms wrapped around the stuffed toy like it was a lifeline.

The way his shoulders had curved inward, like his chest was too full and trying to hold itself shut.

Dionysus clenched his jaw. Something itched between his ribs. He could walk away. Call a satyr. Let someone else deal with it.

That would be easier. That was the rule. No direct divine intervention. But he didn’t.

Because that kind of hurt—the kind that didn’t cry out—was the most dangerous of all.

He knew it. He’d lived it. And he wasn’t going to let a child sit alone with that.

Not tonight.

So, he walked forward slowly, without a word.

Then he sat a few feet away.

Not close enough to crowd him. Not far enough to pretend he wasn’t there.

He didn’t speak. Didn’t reach out. Just... waited.

Letting the silence settle between them. Letting the tide speak first. Letting the little one decide if he noticed the presence beside him—

or not.

The water was cold against his toes.

Percy sat in the sand with Crabby squished tight to his chest, legs stretched out like noodles, the tide brushing his feet and then going away again. And then coming back. And then going.

He didn’t like how his tummy felt.

All twisty.

Like he needed to cry but couldn't.

His head felt full, but also empty.

Just the feeling that hadn't gone away since his scary dream.

The big, sad one that was still in his chest like a wave that kept crashing on top of him. He thought maybe someone had been in it. Someone with soft hair and warm hands. Someone who smiled.

He didn’t know who. He forgot. But it still hurt.

Why did it still hurt if he forgot? Why did it feel like something got taken?

He pressed a hand to his chest. “Why I no 'member?” he whispered. “I don’ wanna no 'member...”

His lip wobbled.

He looked at Crabby. “Did you forget too?”

Crabby didn’t answer besides moving his shoulders up and down.

Percy sniffled, curling tighter. “Was it my fault?” he whispered. “Did I do a bad thing? Did I ‘posed to do somethin’?”

The tide came in and kissed his toes again.

He didn’t know what he lost.

But it had to matter.

Because it still made his heart cry, even if his eyes didn’t.

He wanted Daddy. He wanted Twon. He wanted jellyfish lights and warm blankets and someone to tell him it was okay.

But he didn’t go back.

He stayed.

Because something here was still calling to the sad part of his chest.

Because maybe if he sat here long enough… the rest of the dream would come back.

Even if he was scared to see it.

He squished his cheek against Crabby’s head, watching the water go swish-swish-swish. His tummy still felt wrong. His chest still had the bad squish feeling. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand.

And then—

He felt something. Not the wind. Not the sea. Something else. Like someone was there now who hadn’t been there before.

His head turned, slow and careful.

There was a man sitting in the sand. Not close, but not far. Just sitting. Looking at the water. Quiet like the beach.

Percy blinked at him.

And then, for one second—

He was different.

Big. Scary. Like bad smells and loud doors and wine juice spilled on the floor. His belly was round and his face was too red and his eyes were mean.

Percy’s arms locked tight around Crabby. His body went very still.

He didn’t know this man, but his tummy said scary. Pain. Not safe.

His brain didn’t know why, but his body remembered. Just for a second. Then—like a bubble popping—the man was different again.

His clothes looked funny, like Daddy’s but with spots. Like a blanket had got turned into a cape. His hair was curly. His eyes were still purple, but not mean.

Just tired. Percy stared. The man didn’t look back. Didn’t move.

Just sat in the sand with his knees up and his hands hanging over them. Like he’d been there the whole time. Like he was waiting for the ocean to tell him a secret.

Percy peeked again. The man still didn’t say anything. Didn’t even make a sound. Percy looked at the waves.

Then back at Crabby.

Then back at the man.

And after a long time—

A whisper slipped out.

“I think I los’ someone.”

His voice was wobbly and quiet and not very brave. But the man heard it anyway. He didn’t turn. But he answered, soft like the wind over leaves.

“I know,” he said. “I think you did too.”

Percy sniffled and wiped his nose on his sleeve. He didn’t know who the man was. He didn’t know who he lost.

But just for a little bit, he didn’t feel quite as alone.

They sat together a while.

The waves kept going shhh against the sand. Crabby was tucked under Percy’s chin, squished up tight like always when he didn’t feel right. The man didn’t talk. Just looked at the water like it was sayin’ stuff Percy couldn’t hear.

Percy peeked at him. “You waitin’ for the ocean to talk?”

The man made a quiet sound. “Maybe. Are you?”

“I dunno,” Percy mumbled. “I think... I want it to ‘member somethin’ for me.”

He rubbed his eye with the back of his hand, then looked down at Crabby’s claw. “I have a dream. It sad. It maked my chest feel big and hurty... even afta wakin’ up.”

The man didn’t rush him. Just sat real still, like listening.

Percy sniffled. “I think I los’ somefin’. Or maybe someone. I don’ know who. But... it feeled like gone.” He curled tighter, voice wobbling. “Like somethin’ was ‘posed to be there... but it’s not.”

He hugged Crabby harder. “If it hurted dat bad... it gotta be ‘portant, right?”

“Very important,” the man said softly.

“But I don’t ‘member it,” Percy whispered. “Not even da face. Dat’s bad, huh?”

“No,” the man said. “It just means your heart needed help.”

Percy’s face scrunched. “But I no wanna forget! I no wanna!”

“I know,” the man said gently. “Sometimes our brains hide things when they’re too big to carry. It’s not your fault.”

Percy sniffed again. “But it still hurtin' .”

“That means you loved something. A lot.”

Percy looked down at his toes. “Even if I no ‘member?”

“Even then,” the man said. “The love doesn’t go away, even if the memories do.”

Percy was quiet.

The waves brushed his feet again.

He rubbed his nose on his sleeve. “I no do a bad thing?”

“No,” the man said firmly. “You did the best thing. You kept going.”

That made Percy’s mouth wobble again, but he nodded. “Okay…”

They didn’t talk for a little bit. Just sat. The wind tugged at Percy’s curls, soft and swirly.

“You talk good,” Percy said after a while.

“I’ve had practice.”

“You talk to sad people?”

“Sometimes.”

“Dey no 'member stuff too?”

“Yeah.”

Percy thought real hard. “Dey ‘member later?”

“Sometimes,” the man said. “Or they just start feeling better without the remembering.”

Percy blinked slow. That felt true.

“I’m Percy,” he said finally holding out his hand to shake.

The man turned his head a little and looked down at the little hand. After a moment he reached down and grasped it saying, “It’s good to meet you, Percy.”

Percy looked up at him. “What’s your name?”

The man looked at Percy—really looked—and something in his expression softened. Not a lot. Just enough to show there was still something under the tired.

“My name’s Dionysus,” he said.

Percy blinked. “Dinysauce?”

“No.”

“Deeny...soos?”

“Closer.”

“Deeniss?”

“Not quite.”

“Dinee?”

“Still no.”

Percy frowned hard, scrunching up his face like he was doing Very Important Thinking. “That’s a weird name.”

“I’ve heard.”

He paused. Then his face lit up. “I call you Dio! Tha’s better.”

The man blinked. “...Dio?”

“Mhm.” Percy nodded firmly. “You’re Dio. Names are ‘portant.”

For a long beat, Dionysus said nothing. Just stared out at the sea.

Then, quieter than before, he muttered, “I usually call people the wrong names.”

Percy tilted his head. “Why?”

Dionysus scratched the side of his face. “Makes it easier.”

Percy blinked at him. “Easier to not ‘member names? Names are ‘portant and show you care. If you no ‘member people will tink you no care.”

The words weren’t mean. Just soft and sure. The kind of truth only small kids could say without flinching.

Dionysus’s mouth twitched. Not from amusement. From something sharp and quiet, poking deep in his chest.

“It’s not about remembering,” he said quickly, before he could stop himself. “If you say the wrong name, it keeps things far away. Less real. Less... close.”

Percy frowned. “But if it still hurts even when it’s far, then... then that’s not better.”

He looked down at Crabby. “Then they won’t know you like ‘em. An’ you won’t get to love ‘em before they go ‘way.”

He hugged Crabby tighter. “That’s more sad.”

The words hung in the air, soft as sea mist.

Dionysus didn’t answer right away, but his gaze never left the boy.

“You’re right,” he said finally, voice low.

Percy nodded, pleased, and stood up with a soft grunt. He dusted off his sleep tunic with sleepy little swipes, then paused.

And without saying anything, he stepped close and wrapped his arms around Dionysus’s waist.

It wasn’t big or dramatic.

Just small arms. A soft head tucked against his side. Warmth.

Dionysus froze.

The contact was foreign. Unwelcome, at first. His body stiffened instinctively, unsure what to do with the affection.

But slowly, cautiously, his hand came to rest on Percy’s back.

It stayed there.

Inside his chest, something cracked—not violently, just enough to feel it. A tiny shift. He didn’t remember the last time anyone had hugged him.

When Percy let go, he didn’t say anything. Just picked up Crabby again and reached out for Dionysus’s hand.

Dionysus looked down.

And took it.

They started walking up the beach together, the waves rolling behind them.

As they walked, Dionysus glanced down again, thoughtful.

“There’s a place not too far from here,” he said quietly. “It’s quiet. Has food. Other kids too.”

Percy looked up. “Kids like me?”

Dionysus nodded. “Kids who feel a lot. Who see things others don’t.”

Percy thought about that. Then squinted up at him. “You in charge there?”

A faint smirk touched Dionysus’s face. “Unfortunately, yes.”

Percy made a little humming sound and kept walking.

Dionysus watched him carefully, each step driving the truth in deeper.

This child wasn’t like the others.

He hurt differently. Felt differently. Radiated something dangerously pure—not power, not potential. Just unfiltered feeling. A kind of softness most kids lost too soon.

As they reached the edge of the trees, Dionysus let out a slow breath and made a promise he didn’t speak aloud:

I don’t care who his godly parent is. I don’t care what the rules say. No one’s losing this one. Not on my watch.