Aquagirl (Fem. Percy x YJ)

92

Regardless of all the work, the stress, and all the assassination attempts, never had I regretted assuming the throne more. In all honesty, I would welcome a villain to try to depose me.

The lights were off, and the bioluminescent algae on the walls cast off a soft blue-green light. While it was enough to see by, even as the light rose and fell with the strength of the current, I didn't touch the papers on my desk. Stones held down the stacks. Every day I put off working, they grew by another five inches. 

I sighed and pressed my palms into my eyes. Maybe I could abdicate, and ask Orm to take back the throne. Hand off all the problems and responsibilities to him, and let him make the decision I dreaded. It would avoid issues. No one could say I let my emotions influence my decision---and he's as fond of Kaldur as I am. Snorting, I ran my fingers through my hair. Orm may strong arm any council members who dare oppose his decision in that matter. He is far more willing to talk back to them than I am. 

One of the many differences from our upbringings. 

Kaldur did the same on occasion, though often coated in a soft tone. There was bite to his words, but not enough for anyone to say anything about it. Simple reminders to people that they were not the ones in charge, an offhand remark in English when it wouldn't be polite in Atlantean. 

The amount of times he cussed at people for ill-thought out plans or comments about him, well, if I had a swear jar for him, we probably would've been able to buy a new television for the lighthouse. Or a new communicator that got better signal above water. 

What I would give to have Kaldur beside me. To have him leaning against my side as he filled out mission reports for Batman or as he sorted through some papers for me. I'd wrap my arm around him and hold him close, running my fingers over his head. But the world was cruel, the Fates crueler, and I could do nothing to change that. 

It would not change what I want. 

Leaning back in my chair, I traced the intricate details of the ceiling. My grandfather had redone this portion of the palace, only for my step-father to destroy much of the art when he married my mother. We recreated what we could, but it didn't quite match the detailing of it in the records. Once things were damaged---

I squashed that train of thought, stamped it down into the darkest corner of my mind. I wouldn't dare to jinx things or to cement them by thinking of them. 

Kaldur wasn't evil. So much over the years worked to show that. An image of Kaldur, small and only about seven standing between me and Percy popped into my head. His hands clasped into fists, and staring at me with wide eyes even as he blocked me from approaching her. The time after drills and exercises when he'd maneuver Percy onto his back and allow Topo and Tula to hang off him. Practices in the Conservatory where he'd let Percy try spells on him. Sometimes, she'd attack using things that weren't spells, by using the powers from her father. And he'd never let her do the same for him. 

You don't-- You don't do those things if you resent the person. You don't refuse to spar with someone when you want to hurt them. 

My nails dug into my scalp. My arms shook. He couldn't be evil. So what had they done to him? The blood and the injuries and the bile, the sweltering hot room.  It was only the surface, and I wasn't sure I wanted to dive any deeper than that. Everything had been fine. Both of them had been happy and safe and able to do what they wanted. (Percy not as much, but she didn't have to go back to camp after she was twelve.) How did things go so wrong?

If I hadn't taken him to the Hall, if I'd fought Batman harder, would this have still happened? 

I wanted to go back to the days before the Team was formed, when he stayed with me at the lighthouse. Formalities fell away, as did wonders about his parentage, he was simply my son. He'd move around me in the kitchen, adding in spices and stirring the pot. It was fun to learn how to cook on the surface, he'd said. And after dinner he'd curl against my side, flipping through a book. 

(And there were the days where he'd get up and I'd hear the rattle of pills. He'd come back and pick the book up again, glaring at the pages. I'd ease it out of his hands and read it to him. Those were the days when he'd nod off.)

Mera wrapped her arms around my shoulders and rested her head against mine. "You should come to bed," she mumbled. 

"I cannot sleep." 

Humming, she slipped around until she could rest on my lap. Her hair flowed, twirling in the current like tentacles. One hand took mine and pulled it to her stomach. "Neither can the little one. He seems to know that his father is--well, you know how you are."

"How do you know it will be a boy?"

"Call it a mother's intuition." She tilted her head with a small smile. "Now come to bed."

I followed her towards the sleeping pod, glad I'd changed when I first retired for the day. The blankets, though soft, were hoarded on Mera's side. Trying to retrieve one often ended up with Mera grabbing it back with magic, even in her sleep. Trying to hold her ended with me suffocating within her hair. 

It was far better to let Mera do what she wanted when she slept. Which meant I ended up staring at the ceiling with half of my body functioning as a pillow. 

"Everything will turn out fine." She cupped my face. "And if it doesn't---" A sigh. "Then we cannot change that. Omph," she grunted as the baby kicked. "What did I eat to make you this active?"

I laughed, kissed her, and wished her a good night's rest. Then I continued to stare into the darkness. 

He should get to know his little brother—he'd claimed me as a father years ago—

How could I—

I couldn't kill him. I wouldn't sentence him to death, but I may not have a choice. 

Sorry that this is late, but I ended up playing solitaire for like 8 hours yesterday

Anyway, i hope you enjoyed the chapter!

See yah