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Neptune had not meant to truly appear before the boy, only to watch for a moment unseen. But although he had been able to mask his presence from the Greek gods who held so much power here, his power had evidently been enough to draw the attention of a nearby monster to the boy. If it had not been for his own guilt over the situation, he probably wouldn’t have interfered.
But it was his fault, so as the panicked boy slid into an alley in his attempt to escape the pursuing beast Neptune allowed himself to take on a corporeal form. The griffon came around the corner at the same moment the child ran full force into the god. The griffon rather wisely backed off a few steps before turning and leaping into flight.
“Oh -- sorry, sir.”
Neptune eyed the boy contemplatively. So this was the child his Greek aspect had sired. He was young still, only in his seventh year, and small for his age. But despite having just slammed into a god, he caught his balance quickly and leapt back on light feet.
“No worries about it, lad.” Neptune grunted, his aged voice gruff but gentle. He appeared older than his Greek aspect. Unlike the other Roman deities, he did not prefer fancy adornments or the armor of a long-gone empire. He far preferred a simple fisherman’s sweater. He even tended to keep his trident in the form of a fishing pole, these days.
The boy glanced nervously back over his shoulder. The griffon was long gone, however. It was hardly foolish enough to stick around in the presence of a god. Already the confusion of the Mist was clouding over the child’s eyes, quieting the memories of what had just occurred. Still, it did not seem to be a smooth process. The Mist did not mix well with the sea and it was impossible to tell what the boy thought of whatever had been chasing him. His shoulders remained tense and his brow furrowed as he turned back to Neptune.
The boy had good instincts, at least. He knew enough to follow his gut even when he wasn’t sure what it was trying to tell him.
“You alright?” Neptune asked. It was strange to look down into those Agean green eyes. The child looked far too much like a young Triton. It would be a small miracle if any god ever looked at him and did not instantly know whose son he was.
The boy looked warily back at him. “Yeah. Sorry again.” But then he blinked, seeming to do a double-take. “Are... are you going fishing?”
The corner of Neptune’s mouth twitched upward. Perhaps it did look a little strange to be holding a fishing pole in the middle of a New York alley. They weren’t even near the rivers at the moment. “Aye. You can catch some big ones from the storm drains. This time of year is perfect for hooking sharks.” He responded sincerely.
The boy regarded him skeptically, clearly trying to puzzle out if he was being messed with by the strange man. “Really?” Neptune nodded. The boy’s eyes narrowed further. “... Can I try?”
Neptune’s eyes sparkled with amusement but he managed to keep a straight face. He had forgotten what his children could be like. Though this boy wasn’t his, of course, not really. He pointedly looked the boy over. “I don’t know... You have to be pretty strong. And this is a very special rod.” The boy’s shoulders sunk in disappointment. “But I suppose you can try, if you really think you’re up for it.”
He had not come here to speak to the boy. He really shouldn’t have stuck around as long as he had. Neptune had just thought to see him, to see what child Poseidon had borne after so long heeding the oath. He could tell the child would be powerful someday -- assuming, of course, that he lived that long. And if he did live, he would be the prophecy child, now that daughter of Zeus had been turned into a tree. Jupiter had a son as well, just a bit younger than this boy. Neptune had none, nor did he have any intention of bearing one anytime soon. The prophecy did not even concern him much. It was a Greek matter, one sure to impact the land far more than the sea.
Really, he should leave Poseidon’s ilk. He had what he had come for. And yet, Neptune found himself sitting on the curb beside a storm drain, trying to convince the mortal child that there were great whites under the streets of New York.
“Now, normally when you fish you have to cast your line out far from shore. This is a bit different -- more like ice fishing. We just need to sink our line. Here; take the rod.” Neptune handed over the pole to the boy. Of course, it was no longer his trident (he wouldn’t hand that over to anyone ), as he had managed to dispel his trident to replace it with a more traditional rod without the boy noticing. The child only need a little direction to get the proper grip and he settled naturally into a good, balanced position. Clearly a child of the sea. “Good. Now, we just need some bait.” Neptune reached into a pocket and withdrew a single glittering denarius. The boy’s eyes grew wide. “You need a special sort of bait to catch anything good.”
Neptune tied the coin to the end of the line and let it fall from his hand. Immediately, the line began to rapidly fall as the weight of the coin plunged through the grate of the drain. “Control the line!” He barked. The boy evidently understood, as he quickly grabbed the reel and slowed the descent. The god smiled. “Good, lad.”
The boy straightened a little and momentarily beamed with pride before bringing his attention intently back to the task at hand. Moments later, the coin hit the water. It stopped its descent just a few inches from the bottom.
“... Now what?”
“Now we wait.”
“Oh.” A few seconds passed. “For how long?”
Neptune couldn’t quite stop a light chuckle. Demigods really hadn’t changed in the past couple of millennia. “As long as it takes.”
“And you just sit here?”
“Of course not. You sing shanties, or tell stories, or play a game. Tell me, have you ever heard of Mocha Dick, the mightiest warrior to ever live?”
“No.”
Neptune huffed and leaned back a bit. “Well, it must have been around two hundred years ago now, back when great masted ships ruled the sea and the only way to get from the Atlantic to the Pacific was to sail all the way around Cape Horn.”
“Where’s Cape Horn?” The boy asked hesitantly.
“It’s the southern tip of South America. So if you wanted to sail from New York to California, you had to sail all the way down to the bottom of the map and then up again. It was a tough journey and the life of sailing didn’t tend to attract the nicest of folks. And, in those days, one of the most common reasons to go to sea was aboard a whaling ship. These great big ships would track and hunt whales in order to sell their meat and oil.”
The boy let out a horrified gasp. “That’s awful .”
Neptune nodded gravely. “Indeed. But in the waters of Chile was born one whale who the whaling ships came to fear. But even long before any human had ever set eyes on this cetacean, he was special. Mocha Dick was a sperm whale born with skin as white as sea foam. He was strong and powerful, and more than that he was clever.”
Neptune continued on with the tale. The boy sat listening, enraptured by the story. He fidgeted a fair bit, though never enough to disturb the line, and interrupted occasionally with the odd question. Even demigods could pay attention when something truly captured their interest. Apollo’s chariot moved slowly across the sky, the only real sign that any time had passed since they sat down.
“... But one day, Mocha was hunting when he heard a horrible sound echoing through the waves. It was the anguished cries of a mother whale, full of fear and hurt and desperation. He hurried towards the sound, racing against the current. But he was too late. When he arrived there was blood in the water. The mother screamed in despair as a whaling ship lugged the body of her calf aboard.”
“Mocha remembered what the sea turtle oracle had told him. He was certain to fall in battle if he attacked another human ship. But Mocha steadied himself and charged. The entire ocean seemed to hold its breath. The whalers looked out to see a great white shadow approaching like a ghost of damnation. They knew who it was at once. Fear filled their hearts, and as they scurried to prepare for attack they were forced to drop the ropes hauling the calf aboard and it sunk back into the sea. Mocha let out a mighty cry and shot --”
The boy jumped as the pole in his hands suddenly twitched, and then bent as something pulled on the end.
“Hold steady now!” Neptune called. “Reel it in boy, go on, reel it in!”
The child jumped to his feet and pulled back with all his might. His knuckles were white from fighting with the reel. Slowly, bit by inch, he began to draw the line in. Neptune shouted encouragement. None of the mortals passing by even glanced their way, of course, but whether that was thanks to the Mist or just it being New York was not something even Neptune was sure of.
“You’ve almost got it, lad! Just a bit more -- don’t let it get away now!”
And then, with a final tug, the last bit of line suddenly shot up. The tension fell away from the pole. And there, on the end of the line, was a wriggling fish. A very, very small fish.
The boy stared in disbelief. Neptune cackled and patted him on the shoulder. “Ah, an anchovy!”
“There’s no way this ate that coin.” The boy insisted. “There -- there must have been something bigger on the line that got away!”
“That’s what they all say. The one that got away is always the biggest beast of all.” Neptune chuckled. “You’ll be a fisherman yet, lad! Though perhaps you should grow a little and put some muscle on that frame of yours first, eh?”
The boy scowled at him. “I’ll keep practicing. Next time, I’ll get a shark for sure.” He glanced back at the tiny, squirming fish and sighed. “We should throw this one back, though, right? I don’t think she really likes being caught. And I... I don’t want to be like those awful whalers.” He stiffened as a look of horror came over his face. “She isn’t hurt, is she?”
“No, no -- the little thing’s fine. Just a bit confused. You’re right that we should send her home, though. Here...” Neptune reached over to take the pole and easily unhooked the little fish. He dropped it back into the grate, though as soon as it had fallen far enough out of sight he dispelled it back to the sea where he had summoned it from.
“Bye.” The boy said, so quietly that if Neptune were not a god he probably would not have heard. He sighed and sat back down on the curb, looking speculative down at the gutter for a long moment. “You never finished the st--” He faltered as he glanced back over, only to find no one beside him.
Neptune watched invisibly as the boy frowned in confusion and turned his head all around in search of him. Finally, the child looked back to where the old man had been sitting and blinked as he noticed the gleaming gold coin left behind. The smallest hint of a bemused smile flickered over his face as he picked up the denarius.
Poseidon’s son had not been what he had expected, not that he was entirely sure what that would have been. The boy did not seem like some great hero or a portent of doom. He was just a child. Of course, that was how all of them began. Even Mocha Dick had once been nothing more than a curious calf.
“Perhaps;” Neptune muttered inaudibly as the boy got up and began to walk away. “I will finish that story for you someday, Perseus.”