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He looked at his Brother’s spawn, something adjacent to anger furrowing his brow. The Son of Rome hadn’t noticed his presence yet, although it was only a matter of time. He took a moment to really look beyond the superficial aspects most beings contented themselves with.
As most children of his Brother were, this one was a bright shining beacon. Lightning would jump from his soul periodically, in tune with some random pattern he had no interest in studying. But unlike most, he was silver in color rather than the typical gold. He wondered if this demigod was like that due to the influence of being his Sister’s Champion.
He let his vision fall into the confines of something more human before deliberately rustling the grass he stood on. The demigod whirled around, scattering the papers he was perusing. His hand was hovering around his waist for his weapon but he had yet to close it around the handle.
“Lord Poseidon, or is it Lord Neptune?” The demigod turned his sudden movement into a deep bow. Grudgingly, it only served to improve his opinion of his Brother’s spawn. Not very many could say the same and have it be true.
“You have insulted me, Son of Rome,” he rumbled, shaking the hill with slight tremors, “to have a minor God’s shrine built and completed before mine.”
“I have, my Lord, but I made a promise. I have no excuses.”
And oh, if those words didn’t make his ichor boil. It is a textbook answer to placate angry Gods that never worked. He knew this demigod knew that. And still, he bowed and let that despicable sentence fall from his mouth. An excuse followed by the phrase, “no excuses.” Pathetic.
“I will strike you down here,” he promised the demigod.
Something like resignation flashed in his eyes. He made no move to draw his weapon. Curse it all to Tartarus. He shifted his aim slightly to the right, intent on impaling the demigod’s hair to the marble behind him and seeing him beg for mercy.
But his trident was knocked aside. His eyes fell on the bronze blade and he traced it to his son.
“Percy.”
Percy was trembling as he held his sword. His son’s eyes flashed the same green as his own. A mortal with a God’s eyes. He wondered often how it would’ve turned out if Percy had accepted immortality. It would’ve been better, in his humble opinion.
“I apologize, my Lord, for the insult.” The Son of Rome bowed again, “But Kymopoleia saved Percy’s life. It was promised that her shrine would be the first.”
He had heard through his attendants that his chaotic daughter had indeed saved some demigods in the Ancient Lands, but he figured it was all embellished lies. His daughter simply did not like mortals enough to lift a finger. There was a reason she wasn’t welcome in his Court. But to hear it on the surface…
“Is this true, Percy?”
His son didn’t lower his sword, gazing at him like he’d never properly seen him before. If Percy were anyone else, he would’ve been a puddle of seawater on the ground.
“Percy?” he prompted gently.
“My sister saved Jason and me from Polybotes. Jason did most of the work really,” his son replied tightly.
Some part of him recoiled at the implication that Percy would claim Kymopoleia as a sister. They couldn’t be more different. She reveled in destruction while Percy carefully built things up. Her temper was like the riptide, merciless and deadly. Percy was slow to anger more like an underwater volcano slowly building pressure before it erupted and cooled just as fast.
Another part of him wanted to laugh. His brother’s child saving his own at the bottom of the ocean? He’d heard it all. What could a child of the skies do while being crushed alive by all the water? Summon lightning perhaps? Shower his opponents in bubbles?
“My Lord,” the Son of Rome interrupted nervously, “Minor Gods being shunned and scorned is the reason this war happened. It’s how Saturn gathered his followers. It’s how Gaea convinced so many to turn against Olympus. I want to fix that.”
Such insolence. Such nobility was placed in the wrong thing. He was arrogant to think he knew all the answers. There were so many things at play the demigod knew nothing of. A mortal couldn’t comprehend the matters of the Gods.
“How dare-”
“If you can’t have a civil conversation with Jason, my friend,” Percy stressed, “then leave.”
Very rarely had he ever been struck dumb. His son, his son, was choosing this demigod over him, his Father?
“Percy-”
“No,” his son’s voice brokered no argument, “Respect him or leave. Your choice.”
Feathers sufficiently ruffled, he smoothed his metaphorical hackles. The Son of Jupiter gave his son a sidelong look of disbelief. Percy shrugged, pocketing his sword in pen form.
“Camp Jupiter has gone long enough without respecting the might of Neptune.”
It was a statement, not an excuse. Better He nodded, scowling deeply.
“That changes in the coming days,” the demigod promised before hesitating the slightest bit, “Do you have any requests for your shrine?”
So that was the road he was going to take. The God almost snorted. He appealed to his vanity as if that would work on him. But his mind strayed despite the thought. Grand marble columns, handsome visages of himself, the finest embedded shells at the base, inlaid gold, plated silver… The possibilities were endless.
“Platinum,” he decided, “My shrine will have platinum and the highest quality pearls you can find.”
“By your will, my Lord. I will consult with Annabeth at the next opportunity.”
He preened. The shrine would be more magnificent than his Brother’s, built by the hands of his Brother’s child. Percy made a face, smiling.
“Very well, Jason Grace, Son of Jupiter, I will be watching.”
He hoped the threat would off put the Son of Rome, but the demigod gave a crooked little grin instead. “I’ve been watched since I was born. It won’t dissuade me from doing the right thing.”
He huffed, turning into sea mist with a thought. What a strange child.