Alternatively

The Sea King's Son (ii.)

"I saved you to make my father angry."

Sweat trickled down her spine, the sun beating senselessly on her back. "Elaborate."

The wind was stale and the ocean uncomfortably stagnant. Percy had been waiting for her when she slid down the side of the dune, peeking just above the water. He was a mop of hair and glassy eyes. She didn't have the chance to say anything when he blurted out his sheepish excuse.

"Your kingdom refuses to pay tribute to him and at first, he only cut off your fish trade, but it wasn't as impactful as he'd liked and since you were the only royal who traveled to the sea, he sent a storm to kill you. And I saved you because he said not to. I didn't really think it through, though."

"Your father can do that sort of thing?"

"He's a pretty petty guy," he shrugged, pulling himself onto a rock.

On his left bicep was a mark, inky and possessive. A three pronged weapon, a trident. It looked to be just a natural part of his skin and her mouth was dry.

"Lord Poseidon doesn't see us in a good light, does he?"

"On a good day, he forgets you exist."

The kingdom had been founded for it's bountiful hauls, the coast line stocked with schools upon schools of fish. As the schools became scarce, the politics picked up quite a bit, leaving the kingdom to become a powerful ally on the military front. Annabeth was always led to believe that's just the cycle of how their country evolved, thinking nothing of why all those fish dropped significantly. Leave it to her family to forget the god who ruled the seas they were built on.

"Just why are you trying to make him angry?" She hopped across rocks, nearing the merman with a scowl. "Are you selfish enough to act on your pent up rebellion with our lives? He could destroy our entire kingdom with a swipe of his hand!"

"My pent up rebellion saved you and your crew from getting obliterated," he shot back.

She teetered on a slick stone, regaining her balance and leaning against a sloped boulder.

"Besides, he doesn't know you're alive, so you're fairly safe."

"How can a god not know-"

"There's this thing called the Mist," he explained. "It distorts reality for mortals, but when strong enough, a god can fall for it."

He was wringing his hands, eyes shifting around.

"You distorted the Mist around me..." she slowly spoke, gauging his reactions. "Wouldn't it have been easier to let me die, like your father wanted?"

His mouth was pressed in a thin line. "Gods shouldn't have the right to judge whose life is worth taking, immortals tend to make fickle choices."

"How long does this Mist last? It's not forever, is it?"

"Well you see," he chuckled nervously. "I casted it, but I'm not all that good. The only way to sustain it is if I came back every few days to recast. Otherwise it will just wear off."

She chewed on her fingernail. Her mother was not known for changing her ways, she was a tower that refused to gow before the wind. Only, what is a tower compared to an earthquake? Her stubborness would be the downfall of their country. Tricking a god wasn't the first solution Annabeth would have went with, but they were really quite limited.

"Do you mind...coming back to do that? It's a bit much to ask, but I don't want my people to suffer from their rulers mistakes."

"It'd save my ass if I did this, not just yours, so I'd be glad to."