Under the Water(Fem. Percy)

Chapter 37

Far above, the bell tolls six. Heaving a breath, I crawl out of bed, carefully drawing the blankets up over Cyreus. He groans and shifts, burying his face in my pillow. I smile. Cute. So very cute.

Contentment settles in my bones, and some of it's from Cyreus being settled in my bed. My inhuman half purrs. Mine. Safe. Mine. The human part, for once, is in agreement. The sight of him curled up in the shell and surrounded with my blankets is one to behold. I want to sit and watch him.

But I need to stretch--my muscles burn and complain with every movement. Training also sounds good, and I try to calculate how long I can spend there before a guard notices I'm not one of them. My shoulder pops when I pull my arm across my chest.

Warm arms slip around my waist, and Cyreus rests his head on my shoulder. "Morning."

"You can go back to sleep." I switch to stretching my thigh.

"Your father wishes for me to pick your outfit today. You're being shown off in front of the council again." My hands curl into fists; he nuzzles me. "It's to protect you, Percy."

"Like how not telling me anything was supposed to?"

"If I'm remember what he told your brother correctly, he was worried you'd march up to Olympus and start a shouting match with the king of the gods. Much of your behavior is rooted in his, so I trust him when he's not convinced of your ability to handle yourself or your temper."

"I'm not stupid enough to do that."

Cyreus hums as he moves away. Fine fabric flows through his fingers. His eyes scan over me, and he places the bright pinks to the side, alongside dark, rich purple clothes that make my throat tighten. Those are new ones. Amphitrite and Dad don't wear much of the royal color--Only the longer tunic Dad wears under the top one has it.

He selects a gem-tone green, little brighter than the colors of his armor. It shimmers as he moves it. "You'd have green scales, I think."

"What?"

"Your father calls you a hatchling," he says like that explains everything. Unaware of my stare, he sorts through my jewelry. The gems and metals draw my attention, and I sway. Oh, the way they clink against each other is so nice. And the soft sounds of the chains? If only I could keep them like this instead of having to wear them. He stops suddenly, and I tap my fingers against my leg.

"If you heard he was threatening war if your father didn't kill you? If he threatened to strop your father's immortality so he couldn't protect you?" he demands. His hands clench around a thick collar necklace, knuckles white. "You're as possessive of him as he is of you; you can't tell me that you wouldn't sacrifice yourself to protect him, because you tried to protect me when I was standing between you and your goals. I was nothing to you, and you still wanted to keep me out of harm's way."

"I would sacrifice myself so more people don't get hurt." Dad's aware of that. And as much as he hates it, it seems like I get it from him. My teeth dig into the fleshy part of my thumb. War? He's willing to risk war--risk himself--to keep me safe. I wonder how much of my loyalty is really just selfishness by another name.

"And that's why we didn't tell you."

"You could have left out the part about the war!"

"What, so when you found out about that you could freak out about it anyway?" He rakes his hair away from his face. He's frustrated, with me or the circumstances, maybe both. "The plan was for you to be told that your father wanted to spend time with you, and that's it. He's possessive enough, and obvious enough with it, that it should have worked."

I collapse onto a stool. "So everything with him is fake." You'd think, knowing the rug will be pulled out from under your feet would make it hurt less. It didn't.

"I didn't say that."

Did it matter? Sure, the words didn't meet the water, but they're there just the same. I breathe in hard. Nothing he says will mean anything. "I don't want to talk about this now."

"Percy--"

"No."

The necklace clatters onto my dresser, and I can only stare as Cyreus kneels at my feet. He rests his head in my lap. Why is he doing this? Hesitantly, I rub his scalp.

"I want you to stay," he says.

"No more lies."

"None. Unless it's a direct order."

"Cyreus."

He swallows, and I can feel his throat bob. "I can't control what your father does, love." Blindly, he grasps at my hand. "I'll tell you whatever I can, but I can't promise it'll be everything."

"Then at least try to convince him to tell me."

"I think you're overestimating the amount of sway I have."

"Use me as leverage then. Not physically," I say quickly when he looks at me, expression twisting. "Just try to say stuff like I'll trust him more or I'll be more comfortable being around him. I...I manipulate him sometimes. Do things I know he likes because it calms him."

Sometimes that guilt seems like too much. How can I do that to my father? Use my behavior and actions as a weapon against him? It wouldn't be so bad if I were actively trying to hurt him, but I'm not. Hospitality laws are still in full effect. This has to be going against them, doesn't it?

"That's--You're not manipulating him," he says. He pushes away, sits on the floor. "That's just what sea serpents do."

"I fail to see how emotional manipulation isn't manipulation."

Cyreus chews his lip, deep in thought. "I don't know how to explain this. You're your father's daughter, yes? The daughter of a god who finds a sea serpent to be a comfortable form? Doesn't it make sense that you inherited some of his behavior? Hatchlings are rarely seen, because their fathers keep them confined to the nest, but the rare occasions they're encountered, well, your father indulges you about the same amount.

"And he's not exactly free from guilt in that, if you insist on applying it." Cyreus tilts his head back, exposing his smooth, pale throat. "He gives you things because he knows you'll have a positive reaction to it, same with dismissing me and spending time with you. I doubt he regrets it."

"What about you?" My eyes narrow. There are plenty of choices he has to regret.

"I wouldn't make different decisions." He exhales. "No. Because even if you end up hating me, and you never forgive me, at least this way, you're alive. I never expected this to have a happy ending, Percy, not for the both of us, but I'm more than happy for that. If you want me to, I'll request a transfer. Fuck, you can demand that Tulia becomes your guard and that you never want to see me again. Your father will do it, because he loves you and he wants you to be happy. And I won't fight it. Tide-crossed stories always end this way."

He clasps my hands, and I remain quiet. Emotions, thoughts, they run through my head. Swirling into a mess, it's hard to tell them apart, and sort out my feelings. There's a few that are easy. No transfer. No not seeing him.

Or will those feelings on this change if I have time separated from him?

"Where did 'tide-crossed' come from?" I ask.

"And I did not fight it, for his might is of all the ocean. The very tides have crossed our fates, and fighting them dooms us to sink into the icy abyss. Locked in love, yet e'er separate. Now I wander these halls hoping to catch a glimpse of my beloved, knowing that in time my visage will fade from her memory until I am no more."

Cyreus drops his gaze. "If that's what you wish, I..."

I kiss him.

One more chapter to go!

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