Thunderous Tides

Nepenthe

Poseidon isn't sure whether he should be intruding on his son, mourning as he is. And yet, his connection with his son burns bright and distracted as he is, his wife gently touches his shoulder and whispers, sweet and gentle as can be, Go to him.

And because her advice is invariably wise, he does.

Percy isn't near or in the ocean where his connection to him is the strongest. He isn't in his apartment in Rome where he might be overheard. He isn't with his mother and her new bright family. He isn't even at Camp Half Blood.

When Poseidon comes to his son, he is sitting on the side of a deserted road, crying. There are cracks in the road from his mild earthquakes (only about a 5.1 on Richter Scale followed by a 4.5 after-shock and some lighter tremors. Not insignificant but nothing particularly concerning).

The winds blow hard, hard enough to rattle the houses and uproot some of the weaker trees.

Percy sits in the eye of the storm, unconcerned by the destruction, a little too focused on his own mourning to bother much. (And really it's hardly a terrible storm, just enough to scare with mild property damage.)

Poseidon sits down by his son's side. "You seem troubled."

Percy looks to his side, and like always, he manages a smile. He doesn't wipe at his tears, just looks down sadly. "Life is a bitch sometimes."

(Poseidon is so very proud of his son and how wise he is in matters of the heart, the hardest to tame and in his opinion, the most important to understand. Despite all reasons to the contrary, he isn't ashamed of his tears. Athena might have called it a weakness but Poseidon believes it might be one of his son's more courageous acts.)

"I never really liked your choice of companion." Then wonders if it's too forward, too abrupt when the wounds are still raw.

Percy sighs. "Annabeth is…Annabeth. I love her, but-" He abruptly stops as he remembers that he has no right to say that anymore.

"Athena and her children." Poseidon sighed. "I have never been terribly fond of them."

"Because of Athens, right? And Medusa."

Poseidon rolled his eyes. "I am prideful but I am certainly not egoistical enough to still be bitter about that." He can sense a few gods' interest in their conversation now that the sea god is opening up. He relents to the intrusion, he doesn't wish to halt such an important conversation with his favorite son to hunt them down. He'll deal with them later.

"I always thought you and Annabeth were a poor match."

"We made a great team," Percy defended.

"A partnership in battle is hardly the same as being compatible enough for domestic life. I will tell you a story," Poseidon decided as he waves away Percy's foul expression. "About why Athena and the sea does not get along and perhaps never will."

"Before Athena and the other gods arrived, I was of course the strategist of Olympus. Unconventional plans and out-of-the-box solutions," he winked at Percy and both absently noted that Percy had inherited his eyes. Rhea's eyes. "My children still have a penchant for them."

"When Athena was born, she was born from Zeus' head, fully grown in battle-armor as I am sure you know." Percy nodded. "But she was in most ways, still a child. She intuitively understood battle strategies and how to make people bow down to her, but she was still emotionally a child."

He can sense Athena's ire at being called a child, but Poseidon disapprovingly notes how prideful it is for her to think so. He was already old before her father, Zeus had even been conceived.