Under the Water(Fem. Percy)

Chapter 16

A long while passes, enough for my eyes to grow heavy. Or maybe it's not that long and Cyreus combing his fingers through my hair and softly talking about a story he's read is more soothing than I thought it'd be. Every so often he scratches my scalp, leaving me pressing into the touch.

Hard-soled sandals shift the sand and pebbles. Dad peers down at me with grim set eyes. His tunic flows in the agitated water. The expression on his face isn't the soft one he has when sitting with me in my rooms singing soft lullabies I'd long outgrown. He's removed the facade of my dad. Instead he's Poseidon, lord of the deep, god of the sea.

"You could have gone without the property damage," he says.

"You could've not restricted my powers."

The currents still in the silence. Dad's gaze, icy and cold, linger on me. I swallow.

How much more will he allow of this?

No. How many more times will I be able to do this? The backlash from daring to rip a god's domain from his control coils in my stomach. It piles and stacks on top of what was there before. It's not like when I was younger, a pre-teen so excited to control water that I'd overuse it. Back then, the burn would fade away entirely. This---This is lurking like a noose around my neck.

He hums and clasps his hands behind his back, before walking to the corpse. "Did they say anything, Cyreus?"

"Prodotis." Cyreus never stops moving his fingers. Part of me wishes he'd stop. I press into his touch regardless, letting my eyes slip shut. Dad's here. Even if he's mad, he'll--- I try to wrench myself upright. Despite his pronunciation, that sounds close enough to traitor. And a lot of Low Atlantean is from Greek.

A hand to my chest presses me back down. "Are you trying to make it worse?" Cyreus stares down at me.

"There's something wrong with the knife," I tell Dad. "It-- It hurt worse than it should've. Burned."

"Are you sure?" He looks back at me.

"I've been stabbed enough to know what it should normally feel like." Thank you, Will. And Clarisse.

Worry flickers onto Dad's face like an improperly screwed in light bulb. And just as soon as I can think that maybe, just maybe, what he shows me isn't the facade, the light bulb bursts. The purple layer of his tunic pools onto the ground as he kneels. A sharp crack---bile rises to my throat.

"Did you really have to break their neck?" I ask weakly.

No answer. "Do you think it's safe for her to swim back?"

"I'll return her to the palace if you'd like to remain here, my lord."

Finally, Dad turns back to us. "I can carry her." Water swirls and deposits me into his arms. I clutch at his sash for a moment, then release it. Weakness is bad. Don't let him know that you want to clutch at him like a baby, I tell myself, don't give him more ammunition. You're fine with me treating you like a child any other time. The words still burn. "Go ahead and alert the healers to her injuries."

With a nod, Cyreus darts off at an angle. Against the dark background, he's a bright bolt of color. I watch him until he disappears into the inky darkness, which is only a few yards. Only as far as the glow from Dad stretches, so if I want anything to look at, I have to turn my face up to him. I do. His hair's pulled free from some of the pins keeping it back, and now it flows around his face in the rapid currents.

"You know I can heal this myself." All he needs to do is yank it out and let me heal it.

"Percy, I really don't want to hear this right now," he says. Scales pepper his skin: shifting, appearing, disappearing. A few streaks of glowing blue course through his hair, likely flickers of his aura. I frown. It would be really, really bad if he accidentally goes supernova. One glimpse of his true form, and I'll die, so I let my eyes slip closed. He jolts, and water tugs at my hair in a panic. "Percy?"