Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

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Poseidon

The bedroom is bathed in a cool glow from the strings of glowing pearls floating around its perimeter. It’s a large, open room with wide, organically shaped windows plated with teal sea glass and smoothed sandstone walls. The furniture is either magically treated land imports, such as the sturdy writing desk in the corner, or luxurious pieces of abalone and coral like the extravagant bureau that takes up most of the southern wall. The bed, a large, circular thing centered in the room upon a tiered dais, is piled with the finest fabrics Atlantean merchants can find, a plush mix of blues and greens. 

Looking around the room, Poseidon’s chest fills with frantic anxiety. He was hoping that a familiar territory would bring his frightened, suddenly smaller son peace but there’s simply no way a child could stay in the room as is. The longer he stares at his favorite son’s bedroom, the one slowly growing more lived in every weekend the young adult spends underwater, the more dangers appear. Are the desk corners too sharp? He rounds them with a wave of his hands, shrinking the desk and chair to a more appropriate size and adding a cushion as well. Is the bed too high, where a little body could fall off and injure himself? A gesture lowers it a foot. The bare, intricately tiled floors might not be an issue for tripping but what if his little pearl gets too cold? Best to cover it with a plush seaweed carpet. Oh Chaos, is that drawer set even anchored down!? One concentrated beam locks the piece in place. 

Inspecting his work, he waves a few more adjustments – a small chest appears to the side of the desk, filled to the brim with the newest toys from Atlantis’s premier children's store, a collection of more appropriately sized clothing makes its way into the bottom two drawers of the bureau, and finally a small, impossibly soft, plush shark appears nestled amongst the bed’s pillows. The sea god nods approvingly.

Of course, he would hate to confine his little boy to a single room. Poseidon swims out to the hall of the royal family’s living quarters, waving at every offence that could possibly injure his child. Side tables are anchored and smoothed, elegant vases are either handwaved into storage or weighted down. Displayed armory is either magically blunted or sent to a more secure location, out of the way of little hands.

He pauses at his and Amphitrite’s personal quarters. While his room is technically next to Percy’s, door positioning has the entrances nearly the entire hallway apart. What if his sweet boy has a nightmare and has to travel the entire length just to retrieve his father? Worse, what if he has a nightmare and tries to hide it and Poseidon’s just far away enough to miss it?! No, he enters into his own room, locating the wall that adjoins Percy’s and he is just about to blast open a connecting door between his personal quarters and his son’s room when Amphitrite swims around the corner. 

“Poseidon, my king, the currents around the eastern garden have suddenly gone cold and tumultuous, what ails you?” His elegant wife calls, and it's only his millennia worth of experience with her that he reads the undercurrent agitation. The queen maintains her garden with ruthless efficiency, cultivating the rarest sea flora and medicinal agents that can be found this side of the underworld.

“I’m sorry, my love,” the king quickly apologizes, taking a moment to redirect his growing anxieties away from his queen’s courtyard. If a slow growing whirlpool appears in the depths, at least those denizens are hearty enough to combat it. “I’d been pulled away from my study suddenly when Percy had called out to me–”

“Our seal pup?” Any lingering irritation evaporates as a deep worry begins to grow on Amphitrite’s face. She is just as aware as Poseidon is of how dire the situation must be for their youngest to reach out for help, forced to grow up too quickly as the demigod was. “Is he injured? Why have we not summoned our healers!” 

“Peace, my Queen. He is uninjured and safe within our walls.” Poseidon refuses to think about how much he's trying to reassure himself as much as he is her. “However he has been…changed. Far too vulnerable to leave on the surface.”

“Vulnerable? Speak plainly, dear husband, what has been done to our pearl?” 

Poseidon pauses, carefully choosing his words. “When I went to answer Percy’s call, it was not a young man waiting for me but a boy, merely a child. Magicked in some way, and while he still recognized me, it was clear that his unfamiliar surroundings were causing great distress. He’d requested to come home and I simply had to oblige."

The Queen freezes uncomprehendingly, before she utters a flustered, unrefined, “Percy, a child, Here?”

(Who would have thought that Amphitrite would be so enthralled with her mortal stepson. That the cold greeting from just years prior would melt away entirely. She, the composed Atlantean Queen who is normally the picture of regal grace, who rules alongside her husband in a way the Sky Queen could only dream. She, who kept her husband’s demigods at arms length until Percy came along, now blooming under the chance at raising a new child. Even if she’d missed so many milestones by meeting Percy far too late, having another child in the castle was awe inspiring. A sweet, young thing so eager to learn and to love. What she would give to keep her son here forever, how her heart aches to hear him push away immortality again and again for the surface that will never truly appreciate him.)

“Yes, my love.” the king says, “it seems that in my haste to convert the living quarters to an appropriate atmosphere I’d let my anxieties manifest unfavorably. I will be more careful on where my energies roam. Our little one is currently in the capable hands of his older brother and we have plenty of time to prepare. But there is simply so much to do !”

Amphitrite takes a steadying breath and then her eyes sharpen. “You will finish fortifying the living quarters for our son’s safety and then go and call for the recess of the Atlantean Council until Upwelling’s End. I will inform the staff and guards of their updated assignments and heightened security measures, and contact Percy’s camp to ensure we are fully informed of his condition. Afterwards, we will collect our boys for a fine meal and see if our pearl needs a healer's attention.”

The whirling storm in the king's chest lessens and for a moment he simply looks at his wife before pulling her into his arms, gently resting his forehead on her own. “You are, as always, my steadying anchor.”

Before she swims off, the queen calls out. “Oh, and Poseidon?”

“Yes, my wife?”

“Please aim several feet further down, lest your new doorway blast off part of our pearl sconces.”

What a marvelous, insightful queen he has.

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Chapter Text

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Triton

Back in the Sea Messenger’s office, the two sons of Poseidon were finishing up greeting the fish that swam around the courtyard. Once the last flounder was given a sweet “kay, Bye!” by the princeling, Triton closes the window and turns back to the demigod.

“It seems Father will be taking a bit longer. Please make yourself comfortable, I will be catching up on some paperwork.”

Percy lets his half-brother gently settle him down on the crown prince’s guest chair, a plush thing built from an enormous clamshell that faces the messenger’s desk. Triton then sits on his side and begins working on the ever growing pile of paperwork. 

And for the next few moments the room is calm, filled with only the softest of sounds. An unfurling scroll, a soft swishing from little legs through the ocean’s waters, an inquisitive ‘hmm’ and a soft scribble, a rhythmic tap-tap-tapping of tiny fingers off an unusually large shell.

“So,” Unfortunately, Percy could entertain himself studying the room only for so long. “what’re you doin’?” 

Triton glances up from his scroll. “Father has bequeathed to me many a duty to keep the kingdom running, one of which is to handle the day to day issues so that he can focus on more significant problems.”

Percy perks up from his seat, curiously tilting his head in a way Triton refuses to call cute. “Like what?”

“Well, there are a wide variety of issues that need proper handling.” Triton begins. “For example, this missive is from the Gulf requesting aid from the kingdom's coffers to help the clean up from a surface oil spill. It is, of course, what you might call a ‘no-brainer’ but proper channels are important for record keeping, so,” with a flourish of his pen, the scroll gets Triton's seal of approval. 

The child’s eyebrows scrunch in confusion, “what’s a ‘coffer’?”

“A term for a kingdom’s vault.”

“Oh. So, why do they need help? Is Clean Up that ‘spensive?”

“Not exactly, but they aren’t asking for funds per se, rather use of Father’s intensive sand dollar reserve.”

“The fishies ?!”

“No,” Triton chokes back a chuckle, “while some sea urchin have developed camouflaging to mimic a sand dollar, the real thing is a conduit for strong purification magic. Father employs the best of Atlantis’s mages to make sure the kingdom has a steady supply for disasters such as this.”

“Here,” Triton beckons at Percy’s confused look. “Let me show you.” 

Triton, as a cool and collected crown prince, does not stare adoringly at Percy’s clumsy swimming as the demigod adjusts to the loose buoyancy of Atlantis, and he will deny it vehemently to anyone who says otherwise. The boy’s limbs first flail as he overshoots his launch from the clamshell seat and hovers halfway to the pearl lamps, before he flattens out his rising camp shirt and doggy paddles his way back down to the office floor. Triton nods approvingly as the paddle quickly morphs to a more proper form, Percy instinctively tapping into his father’s ichor and maneuvering his way around the desk, hovering at Triton's shoulders.

Purification magic might not be the Sea Messenger's specialty, but one could not call themselves the honorable son of Lord Poseidon and Lady Amphitrite without having serviceable skills in all manners of the sea. With a moment of concentration and a swirl of his hands, Triton pulls a small part of the ocean’s very essence and materializes a small, pristine sand dollar. The mages under Poseidon’s employ could probably manifest a sand dollar with twice the power in half the effort, but Percy’s awed look at Triton’s handwaving has the sea god secretly relishing in the bloom of brotherly pride.

“While something like this ,” the prince hands Percy the dollar so the boy can physically examine it while he continues explaining, “might be able to clean up a portion of one of your surface infested city rivers, the harsh toxins that mortals so freely dump into our oceans often need quite a few of these to mitigate damage.”

Percy holds the sand dollar close to his face, studying intensely before exclaiming, “it's hummin’!”

Triton smiles fondly, giving the boy a soft pat on his head. With his other hand, he moves the now approved scroll to the empty ‘complete’ bin on the far side of his desk. He retrieves another scroll just in time for the next batch to magically pop in from the ether, bringing the pile to a teetering tower of due work. 

Both sons of Poseidon are silent for a moment before Percy comments. “You gotta lot of work to do.”

“So is the way of the Heir of the Sea.” Triton sighs dramatically.

“...Can I help?”

And so the paperwork lesson continues, Triton combining his duties as both Crown Prince and Older Brother by feeding Percy’s curiosity and educating him on Atlantean politics. Many of the scrolls are banal council requests, permits and budgetary adjustments, but there are a few more lively options.

“What’s that one?” the young demigod asks at Triton’s unprincely groan upon unfurling the next scroll.

“It would seem that there is yet another dolphin protest regarding the recent pufferfish legislation, claiming the ‘ritual significance’ of the clearly ‘symbiotic relationship’ is beyond the council’s reach. Delphin is already flustered over the situation, but it seems our general will have to take up diplomacy once more.”

Percy blinked a few times, “That’s a lotta big words, whad’ya mean?” 

“Our dolphin citizens have, in the past, used pufferfish as a form of– intoxication. Recent activists, inspired by an incident regarding the harassment of a pufferfish-mer, have been advocating against the puffer’s unfair treatment and power imbalance in the dolphins favor. The most recent council meeting had included a bill against the mistreatment of fishkin within Atlantis’s walls.” When Percy still looked a bit confused, Triton simplified. “Father made a new rule that says dolphins can’t use a pufferfish for their toxins in order to get high, er, something like a sugar rush? The dolphins think that they’ve done it for so long that they should still be able to and are protesting it.”

“ Oooh. What’d the pufferfishies say?”

“Beg pardon?”

“What’d the pufferfishies say when dad changed the rules? Were they happy?”

“I… am not sure the council spoke to anyone outside of a few pufferfish-mer.”

“Well, that’s who we should ask next, right? Like, maybe the pufferfishies would be okay with it if they get something in return?”

“Hmm, we have a few contracts for ensuring equal symbiosis amongst our sentient denizens. Even a monetary exchange could curb any potential imbalance. Wonderful thinking, little pearl!”

Percy’s blush is a deep purple in the blue glow of the pearl lamps above, but the boy accepts the praise with a shy smile, shifting in his shirt. 

Watching the boy fiddle with his sleeves, Triton speaks up. “If you would like, I can conjure some, ah, more appropriate clothing for you? While our people have gotten used to your more casual, mortal clothing, surely you’d prefer something less stiff.”

Percy looks down at his oversized shirt, fixing the stiff cotton once again as it balloons up in the ever flowing current of the ocean. The boy nods softly with a quiet, “Yes please.”

Triton tries not to show too much excitement, maybe he can finally rid his younger brother of his horrific fashion sense! “Of course! Atlantean clothes are made to flow with the currents, a perfect blend of soft flowing fabrics and expertly placed fasteners and accents to ensure the draping stays. Like so!” With another handwave, this time the god plucking from the racks of Atlantis’s finest tailor, appears a childrens outfit. Like the royal prince said, the outfit is much more drapery and variable composition - built for adapting to legs or fins or claws. The fasteners are beautiful strings of pearls and smooth clips of Atlantean brass, forming a sort of tunic unencumbered by the shifting waters. Percy looks interested at the bright blues and teals of the fabric before looking at the lower half of the piece. 

“Oh, I can’t wear this.”

“Why ever not? If it’s the fabric blend, there are many other options! A sea silk perhaps? Or a sea anemone weave?”

“It’s got no pants.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“It’s got no pants! Gabe says boys can’t wear skirts so I gotta have pants.”

Triton has to stop himself from launching into another Surface Barbarism tirade. He has little interest in the land dwellers in the best of times, but every so often he'll hear an absolutely outrageous culture norm or ritual that his blood literally boils. Have mortals fallen so far from godly grace that they have no care for nature's complexities? The nuance of gender presentation is vast in general, but infinitely fluid under the Sea! And isn’t that just like The Surface, building themselves up through their Abrahamic theology just to use it as an excuse to demean and other those for the sake of power and control? To abuse not only their most vulnerable, but Nature itself: corroding the land with pollution for another coin in their purse. It’s no wonder the satyrs searching was fruitless for centuries! Was it not enough that they poison the oceans waters, must they poison Triton’s little brother too? Why father ever let’s Percy near those unworthy–

A deep, calming breath. In, and out. Do not rant at the child, who knows no better and has gone silent, watching Triton wearily. Gently correct, educate.

“Strange. These garments are nearly identical to what I’m wearing now, and I am certainly your brother .” Triton gets up from his chair to better show his own outfit, a pristine example of Atlantean Couture. Between his neatly tied back hair, glimmering green-tinted skin, shimmering twin tails, and perfectly princely outfit, Triton surely depicts the perfect image of a royal heir. His draping tunic is a more refined and complex version of the children’s outfit he just presented to his brother, with multiple layers, decorative pearl netting and several belts to affix his satchel and conch.  “As you can see, I’m wearing this without your surface ‘pants’ just fine.”

Percy’s little face scrunches a bit, conflicted. “But it’s not the same , You gotta wear that cause’a your tails! Can’t I wear something like Dad wears instead?”

“But Father’s court outfit is nearly identical to what I’m wearing now?”

“No! Like what he wears at Montauk! The fishing one!”

Dear Chaos, no. Surely Percy wouldn’t choose that abomination over proper clothing.  “I mean, I could enchant an outfit similar to the, ah, bright patterns father will sometimes wear to his Olympus meetings. But, are you sure you don’t want to try the other outfit? We can even cinch it so it’s similar to your mortal leggings!”

Percy just shakes his head before turning the most unfair seal eyes up to Triton. “Thank you for the other clothes but can I have a beach outfit please?”

Oh, what an absolute tragedy. Who could’ve known that father’s bad fashion taste was hereditary? Poor, poor Percy, too alike to their father to see. With another, more frustrated handwave Triton summons the most refined version of his father’s ridiculous mortal costume he can generate. A navy blue button-up with figure-drawn sharks in a brighter outline along with khaki bermuda shorts and sandals, all enchanted to flow freely in the current and perfectly sized for a little demigod body. 

“You may change in the side room,” Triton gestures to a door just beyond his scroll shelves. “and then we can continue, alright?”

Percy nods once more, gathering his new outfit in his hands and clumsily swimming off. “Don’t start again without me, I’ll be quick I swear!”

Triton’s never seen someone so excited to approve permits before. “Don’t worry little fry, these scrolls aren’t going anywhere.” He laughs.

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Chapter Text

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Percy

Being Underwater, Percy decides, is weird. It’s glowy and sandy and you half-swim, half-walk everywhere and the water kind of feels like you're getting a non-stop hug from the ocean itself. 

Changing underwater is super weird. His old clothes are half floating in the current, swept up from the pile Percy’d tossed them in, and whatever Triton did to his new outfit makes it feel both like a swimsuit and like he’s got nothing on at all. Don’t get him wrong, Percy is very happy with these new clothes that his brother gave him! They fit perfectly, nothing like the clothes mom gets a bit too big that Percy’ll grow into, and even got doodle sharks on ‘em! Best part is, they don’t get caught up in the motion of the water or lag behind when he moves. After Percy finishes strapping on his second sandal he gives a few test jumps, giggling a bit as he launches into the water, clothes flowing with him seamlessly before gently floating back down.

Working with Triton reminds Percy a bit of when his mom used to bring him to her evening shifts at Mo’s Diner. It’s a bit confusing but a lot of fun and makes Percy feel more mat-chure (like a big kid!) by helping, even if his brother's a little silly. His older brother is so smart, using a ton of words that Percy doesn’t know like bee-kweeth and mit-uh-gate (Don’t worry, Percy’s really good at con-text clues, his mom says!), but overlooks the most obvious answers. 

Like the penguin thing! One of the scroll thingies had a problem that Triton said was going on for years, with the penguins angry ‘cause they don’t fit dad’s rules for Ocean Citizens since they’re on land more than sea. But Percy said that it’s just like their apartment’s Super going back to Italy half of the year and how he’s got something called ‘dualing citizenship’ where he gets to say he’s a part of both. Now Triton’s gonna do some research and maybe the penguins won’t be sad anymore!

Wait, if he wastes too much time Triton might start again without him! Percy gives himself a quick once over (shirt, shorts, sandals, Check. Bead necklace and weird pen that are both His and Important™ also Check!) and rushes back around the corner to the office. 

“I'm here, I'm here! Don't start yet!!”

“Your excitement is appreciated but please don't fret.” Triton smiles at the little body bobbing its way towards his desk. “I wouldn't start back up with my best apprentice.” 

Percy grins brightly back at his older brother.  “‘Kay! What's next?”

“It would seem that our next task is…” Triton unfurls the sea scroll, “that there is an issue with a farm just outside of Atlantis overfarming clams, leading to a drop in water quality with the lack of filter feeding as well as issues with the whelk and crab populations due to the ecosystem’s imbalance. This is a request for the immediate halt of the facility and an investigation into the property allowance with claims of overextension.”

Okay, uh, give Percy a bit to translate. So some farms are farming too hard and it's making the water bad, and not leaving enough food for the crabbies? And that’s against dad’s rules so they gotta stop right now until they’re ‘vestigated to see if it’s their fault or not. And then there’s something about the farm’s ‘allowance’, like how rich kids get money from their parents instead of the other way around? And there’s a lot of tension…

But if the farm has to stop immediately, what’re they gonna do for food?! 

“So dad’s gonna take their food away?”

“The farm will have to stop harvesting until the investigation is complete, which will take some time for land surveying, yes.”

“But what’re they gonna eat then?! Is that part of dad’s punishment?” Percy fidgets nervously. He’d been so focused on how different dad is from Gabe that he forgot about punishments. Is that something I have’ta remember?

Triton blinks, confused, “I would assume if they can’t sustain on whatever they have in storage or on their personal farm lands, they could simply purchase their own food?”

“But you said they gotta stop farmin’? How’re they gonna get their food if daddy says they can’t farm?” 

“Oh! Little brother, no!” Triton assures the boy. “Any penalty will be strictly on the business side. There might be fines and potentially jail time depending on the severity and intentionality of the crime, but ever since the great Reef Rot centuries prior, father has established very strict regulations on what Atlantean rights cannot be infringed upon. We would never deny someone food as punishment, and that goes for all sea creatures, which is why something like overfarming is so important to us.”

Oh. That's not so bad then, s’long as the farmers don't go hungry ‘cause being hungry, pardon his French, sucks. 

(Okay so Percy doesn’t actually know French, but he’s heard his neighbor use that saying before and it means ‘I’m gonna say something bad but I’m warnin’ you so you can’t get angry.’ Sometimes warning people, like your teachers, doesn’t work though and they still get angry– so be careful.)

Triton keeps looking at Percy with this weird look on his face. The messenger’s eyes are all wide and intense when he says, “Atlantean’s see denying someone food as a heinous sin, and it’s particularly irredeemable to deny our young ones. You would let me or father know if you’re having problems, right, little brother?”

(Percy knows how this game works.)

The boy nods before quickly changing the subject. “So! You said we gotta decide whether to tell the farm to stop until the ‘vestigation’s done or not, right? But how can we do that from here? Do we gotta go to them to check?”

“Not so much, though there may be a call for a personal visit should the results be unfavorable. As of now we should be able to decide with the included documents alone.” And it’s only then does Percy see that curled up within the scroll were several smaller reams of paper, some with print and some with pictures. “Frankly, if records from these water tests are true then we should have enough evidence to close the farm just with this.”

Percy swims up a bit to peek over Triton's shoulder and see the chart the messenger is talking about when he gasps. “Whoa! How'd you get your words to stop swimmin’?”

“I'm sorry?”

“The words!” Percy excitedly points at the scroll. “They aren't movin’ around! Issat magic? Can I do that?” 

Was it really that simple this whole time? The boy thinks. He would’ve brought his homework into the bathtub months ago if he'd known!

Triton still looks confused for a moment, glancing between Percy and the scroll in his hands before a look of understanding grows on his face.

“Ah yes, a common demigod affliction. Surely your tutors have prepared for your dyslexia but without the proper knowledge a mortal would never guess that Ancient Greek could solve your issue. Atlantean script as well in your case, of course, which is why this text isn't ‘swimming’ as you said.”

“Tutors?” Percy laughs a bit. “I don't got one of those!”

“Yes, yes, the term is teacher nowadays. Either way.”

“Ms. Knowles just said I was reading wrong and that I need to focus more.”

Uh oh, Triton's making that I'm trying not to show I'm angry face again. Quick, distract!

“What's Dys-lex-ida anyway?”

That, ah, didn't make the face any better. Oops.

Triton takes a deep breath, muttering something under his breath that Percy couldn’t catch. Something about air breathing savages and intentionally ignorant imbeciles with no intentions of actually teaching. 

“Dyslexia is the term that mortals have coined for a magical infliction scrambling written language in those with a certain concentration of ichor and mortal blood. It shows in most demigods, but can also surface in mortals with a lineage dating back to godly blood under the right circumstances. Those on the surface have developed certain writing styles and reading methods to help those afflicted, aid that you should have received if your teachers were even attempting to do their job properly. To not even try, and actively discourage you at a young age–” Triton cuts himself off, halting the slow growing whirlpool Percy sees forming right outside the window.

“Well, since you have no issues reading Atlantean, and clearly your instructors haven’t been doing their due diligence, perhaps we can continue with the rest of the scrolls by reading through them together?”

Percy falters a bit, protesting. “Uh, I dunno if I’d be any good at it. What if I mess something up?”

“Just try to read this for me, little brother.” Triton rests the chart open on the table for them both to read with an encouraging nod, the weird look back in his eyes again. “I’ll help you with any words that might confuse you.”

Ugh, Percy really doesn’t wanna, but the thought of disappointing Triton and breaking this fun time they’ve been having isn’t an option. He’ll just, try his best and hope he doesn’t make Triton think he’s too dumb? Cautiously, the boy swims a bit further over the desk, and begins to read. 

“The rep-orts over the last few months have sh-shown a sign-if-I-can’t,” Significant, Triton gently corrects. Percy blushes and repeats the pronunciation, continuing as Triton nods in approval. ”in-cre-ase in, uh, Nit-ro-gen?” Percy looks to Triton for help with this one, which again his brother softly corrects, explaining that it’s a type of chemical that’s important to keep at a certain level for healthy fishes. “Nitrogen, almost three per-cent from the read-ings this time last year.”

“See, you did a fantastic job, little pearl! This report proves at least that an investigation is in order. How about you stamp this one while I rebundle the supplementary materials?”

Triton swipes his signature quickly, leaving space for his official stamp and handing said stamp to the princeling. Determinedly, Percy lines up the stamp carefully before rearing all the way back and swinging the thing down like a hammer. The seal is bright, if a bit off-kilter. Triton pats the boy’s head in approval, moving the scroll into the finished bin before picking up the next missive.

“Come now, I’ll need your help reading through all of these if we wish to be done before dinner.” 

Triton still wants his help, even after all of his fumbling? Man, Percy doesn’t think he’ll ever get his big brother. But reading with the words staying still is a lot easier. And if Triton thinks that Percy can help then the boy will suffer through reading all these scrolls, for sure. 

Percy nods, grinning slightly then starts helping his brother spread out the next scroll to read.

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Chapter Text

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“Will you be spending the entire evening in the hall or would you rather join us properly?”

Percy looks up from his stilted sight-reading, confused, but Triton’s eyes are locked at his office door, levelling it an unimpressed stare. A moment later the driftwood door swings open.  

Amphitrite glides in with a regal grace that says ‘What a fortunate coincidence that I just so happen to be entering into this room right now. I most certainly was not spying on my adorable children interacting, don’t be absurd.’ She stops just shy of Triton’s desk, eyes trained on the little boy sitting atop it, and is just about to speak up when her husband joins the room.  

Poseidon, for all his kingliness, has no such grace. He barrels into the room shortly after his wife like a tidal wave that says something much more on the lines of ‘I know the rules and social graces and I care little for them, If I cannot hold my darling son soon I will simply explode’. The king quickly bee-lines toward his tiny son and swoops Percy up into his arms. 

“My precious boy! I trust Triton has been keeping you well entertained while we had the quarters properly made?” 

The question was just as much for Percy as it was Triton, as Poseidon uses the full warmth of his embrace to glance over Percy’s head toward his eldest, a silent anything to report?

Triton’s own gaze responds with a We’ll talk later.

Percy himself misses the mental conversation by snuggling into his father’s hug before reporting, “Tri let me say Hi to the fishies! And then I got to help him with some of his mist-ives. We came up with some really good ideas so you gotta look at ‘em, okay dad?”

Poseidon chuckles, smiling warmly, “Of course, my pearl. Between the two of my boys I’m sure there isn’t a problem you two couldn’t solve. I’ll have the council look at them first thing after their recess.” With his little son back in his arms, the storm finally breaks. The God of the Sea is finally calm and content surrounded by his family with his youngest safe and sound, like a ship finally breaking free from a hurricane and settling into a gentle wave. 

Just then, the Queen of Atlantis sneaks in and snatches his boy from his very arms! 

“We do apologize for taking so long, sea star.” She says, ignoring her husband’s protesting whine of ‘my love!’ “There were a few extra preparations needed for your unexpected visit, but everything's settled now.”

Poseidon looks torn between pouting at his empty arms and staring adoringly at His wife embracing his little pearl. Whatever his face lands on has Triton scoffing in mock-disgust. 

Percy looks up to his stepmother and gives her a bright, “Hi Amphy!” And, after a moment, a much shyer, “I like your claws, they're very pretty.”

The claws Percy’s referring to are part of an ornate crown perfectly balanced atop the queen’s dark, complex updo. It's formed with intricate wisps of Atlantean silver and gemstones, the most prominent feature being the two large crab claws on either side. The claws, that of a giant Palawan Purple Crab, are an ombre of violet and blue, with the claw tip fading to a deep red. At Percy’s compliment they flutter slightly.

“Thank you, little one! Your father had gifted me this new crown for our most recent anniversary and I am quite enamored at the handiwork of our forges.”

“S’a good gift! I like the blue.” 

“As do I.”

“Blue’s my favorite color,” Percy continues on in that rambling way kids are wont to do, “cause it reminds me of Mom and Dad and you and Triton.”

The queen’s poise seems to melt for a moment before praising the boy. “What a wonderful reason for a favorite color.” Then, looking at the boy's colorful clothing, Amphitrite continues. “You're looking quite like your father, little one.” 

Percy beams proudly.

“Thanks! Triton made it for me, Look! It's got lil sharks!”

“So it does!” The queen smiles warmly. 

Somewhere in between Poseidon shaking himself out from his enamored stupor, the god switched his kingly garb out for his usual tommy bahama color explosion– trading the board shorts out for a leathery strapping cinched above his tail. His top is a daring clash of tropical fish, the little figures swimming in the imaginary ocean of the teal blue background. 

“Quite the outfit you have there, my son! But, you know what could make it better?” Poseidon asks, leaning in toward the child conspiratorially, stealing a kiss from Amphitrite on the way to the playfully disgusted groan from their youngest. The king then reaches over and taps Percy in the center of his chest. Suddenly the outlined sharks on the kid’s shirt spring to life, blooming in a rainbow of colors, all swimming loopy circles around the boy’s torso.

“Whoaaa!” Percy gasps, “They’re swimmin’ like yours are!”

Percy stares awestruck as his sharks gain a clownfish friend that jumps from his father’s button-up where the two shirts were touching. From there, Father and son feed off each other’s excitement, a duet of a light, bright giggle and a deep warm chuckle. 

“Thank you!” the demigod says and, with a quick glance for approval from Amphitrite, jumps back to his father. Once Percy was swept back up in his father’s arms, the two chatting quietly about the animated doodles on their shirts, the Queen of Atlantis turns to her eldest. 

“I’m surprised you didn’t give him something more… traditional.” She comments.

“I tried, mother!” Triton bemoans, form sagging in an exaggerated defeat. “I fear that he may be a lost cause, if he chooses those atrocities so young.”

Amphitrite looks at her son with sympathy, “I’m sorry, my son, but given how alike the two are, is it that surprising? Now come, it seems my husband is already kidnapping our youngest to the dining room and if we don’t follow, I fear our King may try to feed the boy the entire dessert first.”

She watches the two in front, laughing and swimming toward the kitchen. “Although, with how thin the child is, perhaps an extra meal wouldn’t be remiss…”

She and Triton share a look before following.

♦♆♦♆♦♆♦

The royal family dining room is the most intimate of the castle’s dining halls, with sea sourced furnishings of coral and abalone and a dancing chandelier of warm toned, glowing pearls hanging from the high ceiling. The table has just enough seating for the king, his queen and their children, with the chairs for the daughters of Poseidon magicked away unless the ladies visit from their own castles. 

Percy is sandwiched between the king and queen on an almost hilariously high booster seat to fit at the godly table. The table is already set with a wide array of appetizers, such as seaweed salads, a vibrant harvest of fruits from Amphitrite’s gardens, and imported Olympian cheeses. Percy looks at the variety of food with wide eyes, but only takes ginger bites once the rest of the family digs in. 

Conversation is purposefully light, small updates to Triton on the council's recess and news about petty Olympian drama. Percy lets the talking wash over him, content on nursing his food when a near invisible tentacle catches the corner of his eye, and suddenly a whole ‘nother plate of food, piled high with a bunch of fishy meats and grains, is placed in front of him! He follows the tentacle to a severe faced, middle aged octopus mer. 

“I like your tentacles! They’re sneaky colored!”

At his comment, the mer startles a bit, their tentacles shifting back to a deep brown and white striping that trails all the way up their neck.

“You have sharp eyes, little prince, I’m usually able to tend to the table undetected.” The mer bows slightly with an unseasoned smile. “I am Kahli, your attendant tonight. If you have any questions, please do not hesitate to ask.”

“Oh, I got one!”

“Ah, Yes, my prince?”

“You were table colored before, but now you’re zebra colored. Issat some sort of camel-flawge?”

Kahli keeps an iron grip on their professionalism. The same could not be said for the rest of the royal family, who either have to choke back a laughter (Triton and Poseidon), or coo adoringly (Amphitrite and Poseidon again). “Yes, many of my kin are blessed with the gift of camouflage, a gift that aids me significantly in ensuring a quiet, uninterrupted evening. If that will be all, I will return with your third course momentarily.”

Third course? Percy blinks, confused. Like, there’s more food in the back? But Percy was basing how much food he should eat on what’s already on the table! How’s he supposed to save some if he doesn’t know how much there is?

…maybe he can ask Kahli for some leftovers to be left from every plate? 

Nodding to himself, he gets to work on the next plate. A mix of a rice-y mush and some red curly cued meat, all in a red sauce and piled high. The rice stuff was fine, but the meat bits? MMMmmmmm… Percy barely remembers the manners his mom hammered into his noggin and swallows before giving his compliments.

“S’ really good!” 

Amphitrite smiles down at him, leaning in a bit from her chair. “I’m glad you like it, seal pup! The recipe is one of your father’s favorites, so the chefs will often serve Γαρίδες ιουβέτσι to appease our creature of habit.” 

Γαρίδες, so shrimp? Oh! 

“I didn't know shrimp was so good! No wonder it costs a lot!” Percy comments before wolfing down another spoonful. 

Any semblance of small talk freezes as all three gods zero in on Percy, who’s too busy devouring his dish to notice.

“Percy, dear,” Amphitrite starts, hesitatingly. “How often would you have seafood with your mother?”

Percy pauses, deep in thought before answering. “I had some clams down at Montauk once! The fisherman guy gave mom a deal on it, ‘cause it was his last catch and he wanted to get home. It was really yummy!”

At Percy’s explanation, the arm the queen had draped over his chair to rest on her husband’s shoulder had clenched fully, sharp nails digging into ground both husband and wife. The crab claws on her crown snap ferociously. 

“That’s it? Just a single time?”

“Well, Gabe says fish are really ‘spensive, and that we already waste enough money on food.”

“Waste…?” The queen quietly repeats, disbelievingly. Another rapid Snap, snap!

“And who, exactly, is this Gabe?” Triton speaks up, his eyes alight. “Because this is the second time you have mentioned him, and given both instances I feel like he and I should have a, ah, talk about our differing opinions.”

“He’s my stepdad.” Even with all of his seven year old effort, Percy can’t completely hide the look of displeasure on his face. But mom says he’s gotta get better about how he talks about his stepdad, so the boy tries to cover it with a shrug. “Mom works a lot, so ‘s usually just him and me.”

“Is that so?” The Lord of the Sea finally speaks, a tidal wave in his breath. The king is as still as stone, but even with his restraint the very lights begin to dim under the weight of his power. That disgusting statue, the one his little son helped make by gifting his mother Medusa's head? Poseidon had been assured that his son was safe. Sally had insisted in her prayer updates that this man was nothing but a nuisance, rarely around Percy as it is. Limiting food does not sound like a nuisance. Starving his son does not sound like a nuisance.

Poseidon places a large hand on his boy's shoulder, a reassurance. “Well, it's a good thing we aren't beholden to some mortal’s rules here, my son. Eat all you want, a child of the Sea requires nourishment of the Sea and I assure you there's plenty.”

Percy looks at his plate, almost completely eaten because he was so distracted on how delicious it was to save his usual portion. He blushes a bit.

“We got more in the kitchen? I’m not eatin’ anyone else's food, right?”

“The kitchen has plenty, more than enough for leftovers.”

“‘n we can save some for mom?”

The king and queen catch each other’s eyes for a moment, before Poseidon nods. “We will let Kahli send a care package out to her as soon as they return.”

The demigod relaxes. “Good. ‘Cause this is really yummy and I wanna make sure she tries some too. But I also wanna finish all a’ mine!”  

Dear husband… Amphitrite’s anxious mental voice chimes in the god’s ear.

I know. He responds. 

He will need to see the healers, to think of a sea child so deprived.

In the morning, he declares. Our little pearl has had enough excitement for today.

The king and queen share a glance of agreement, and settle back into guarding their youngest son.

(If either of them see Triton sneakily handwave a portion of his own food onto Percy’s plate, neither say anything, just basking in the appreciative sounds the boy makes at his delicious meal.)

♦♆♦♆♦♆♦

Getting Percy to bed was a simple affair. The boy was already drifting by the end of dinner and by the time the king carries him into his room, Percy only utters a sleepy “I could do so many cartwheels in here” before letting himself be led through the nighttime rituals: magically washed up, pajama’d, properly introduced to his new plushie (who was met with a dreamy smile and a “'m gonna call’m Toofy”) and finally laid onto the bed.

Getting him to actually sleep is another story. The boy, even snuggled in his covers, insists on staying awake until his mother gets home from work. It takes quite a bit convincing, and a promise to give her an iris call in the morning, for the boy to rest his head. 

Just before Percy finally closes his eyes, the king presses a kiss into his son's forehead, whispering, “If you need anything, anything at all, little pearl, my and Amphitrite’s room is just beyond that door. I love you.”

“L’ve you too,” a fading Percy whispers back. “‘night.”

And for a few hours, it’s silent. The king and queen finally resting, consolidating all shades into just the essentials to recover from the stressful day. Amphitrite has already fallen into her meditative state, the little energy she's still using conducting the ever flowing push and pull of the waves. Poseidon is still just aware enough, verifying that his kingdom is properly maintained now that the council is in recess, when he hears the whisper of a wave outside his door.

The door sloooowly swings open and there, in the new doorway Poseidon had carved out just hours prior, was Percy. In one hand, his new shark plush, in the other, one of his bed sheets, the blanket trailing after him like a fishing net cast to sea.

“S’too big. ‘nd too quiet. Can I sleep in here tonight? I’ll be quiet and sleep on the floor, I swear!”

Poseidon does not answer from his position, lying in his and Amphitrite’s bed. But his eyes are intense as the Sea itself swirls around the boy, swooping him and his trailing comforter up in one quick current, ruffling the boy’s pajamas as if inspecting every inch of him before pulling him forward into his father's waiting arms. For a moment the god simply embraces his son, savoring the contact of being able to hold his little one. 

“Never feel as if you cannot come to me for comfort, my little sea star. Even if you are old and grey, if you call I will answer.”

“You sure?”

“Always.”

And with his son safe in his arms, the little boy drifting back off to sleep, Poseidon rests. 

♦♆♦♆♦♆♦

It’s a testament to how focused his father was on attending to Percy, even while the boy was sleeping, for the god to send a barely formed whisper of power to get Triton’s report. To be fair, even the smallest sliver of Poseidon’s essence is enough to plunge the corner of Triton’s office into darkness, as if the deepest trench of the abyss carved its way in. In the shadowy depths are twin glowing orbs, swaying like a lurking anglerfish’s lure. A command, not verbal but understood between two beings molded of the sea, resonates: Speak. And so Triton does.

“I have inferred many potential ailments during my time with Perseus. He is quick to read emotions and grows cautious around anything hinting of anger. While very bright and a quick thinker, he thinks very little of himself, particularly in academics, something that is no doubt compounded by poor teaching considering he didn’t even know what dyslexia was. He has already been tainted with backward surface beliefs such as gendered clothing. Most concerningly, as you no doubt already noted during our dinner, is his relationship with food. Percy showed great distress at the thought of someone being punished by having their meals taken. That combined with his comments this evening paints an unsavory picture.”

Triton’s report is clinical, solid and steady. Anyone outside of the king and queen would hear only a detached, lightly sardonic review. His parents, however, can feel the icy claws of Triton's rage tear at the depths, can feel the fissure of a new underwater vent crack open at the Sea Heir’s discontent. And, most importantly, know that Triton can maybe keep a hold of that anger outside of mixed company for another five… four… three… two… one–

“I simply don’t understand!! Are children not celebrated on the surface? Have they such small hearts to mistreat the innocent so severely? Do the teachers not take pride in seeing the light of triumph in their student’s eyes? Chaos, If a parent even attempted to do what we fear that Gabe has done they’d be sent to the hottest vents!

“And his Mother! You claim that his mother loves him, that she's a ‘queen among mortals’, but all I see is another selfish surface dweller! I know you offered her sanctuary in Atlantis and that she turned it down to ‘live her own life', and I've seen the records, I know you provided financial means to help raise Percy under the sky lord's nose. But instead of calling you, calling any of us for aid, she marries that wretch, someone who already poisoned our princeling’s mind. Who knows how much damage has already been done to my poor, little brother! And yet! This younger Percy smiles brighter than I've ever seen him smile at his actual age, which means it somehow gets worse!!”

His father lets Triton rant, and given the dip in temperature in the surrounding waters, concurs with some points.

I will be talking to Sally tomorrow, after Percy’s medical exam. It is clear that she had misconceptions on what information I am Due as his godly parent, and my brother’s scrutiny had kept me unable to investigate properly. This will be fixed.

“I know you and mother already talked about this, but given recent discoveries I simply can’t in good conscience agree to letting Percy back on to a surface that has damaged him so early and so frequently. Even after this spell wanes, the surface clearly isn’t worthy of our little prince!” Triton catches himself before he begins a full rant again, instead swerving to a hopeful desperation, “Besides, would it not be best for our other project for him to stay here? Think about it! With this added time, and Percy so young, this may be the perfect opportunity for him to see his rightful place! We could even get him to agree now an–”

A sharp sting cuts the god off, a concentrated pull from his father’s projection – a reprimand.  

We will support and comfort and cherish, the Sea reminds his son, but we will not manipulate.

“...yes, father.”

I could not bear my youngest’s resentment. He will be with us by choice, and should he choose a mortal life we will accept it, with all the grief that comes with it.

“I understand. My apologies for speaking out of turn.”

Your concern and care is obvious my son, The Sea softens, and for a moment the messenger feels a caress to soothe the sting. I do not fault you for it, but my word is law and shall be obeyed.

Then the Sea’s eye-lights flicker for a moment, before sharpening.

Now, My Herald, I have a message of utmost importance. You will send word to the Lord of the Underworld and inform him that one of his residents is to be under Atlantean Purview. Provide whatever information necessary to return with your charge, and keep him chained in the depths – as far away from the castle as possible.

Triton nods, and grins. 

♦♆♦♆♦♆♦