Alternatively

The Sea King's Son (iii.)

Problems piled up as the weeks dragged by. Octavian was invited to stay as long as he'd like at the castle, along with his advisors and collection of so called Sun warriors, constantly plaguing Annabeth with his presence. This was encouraged by her mother and the insanity the prince spewed was hardly a matter of concern.

"You'll find a way to overpower him when queen," she had assured flippantly. "He's just the right amounts of horrible to dismantle himself from the throne."

Annabeth didn't think her mother saw the same prince she did.

Poseidon, while still unaware of his son's actions, grew angrier with the kingdom who refused to pay tribute. Percy constantly fought and diffused storms that were thrown at the coastline, manipulating the Mist to create adequate results that would satisfy his father. He couldn't stop every storm, though; he was only mortal. The bay flooded, docks were destroyed, rain drowned the crops further inland, any fisherman puttering around hoping for a catch soon had to deal with a capsized boat. Grievances surfaced all about the country and there was no earthly way of settling them all. It didn't help that Octavian was always to the side, taking note and murmuring to his advisor.

Despite all of this, Percy and Annabeth continued to meet as often as they could. She felt exhausted, but he looked worse. Dark bags hung under his eyes and his face was alarmingly pale. Bruises splotched his body and she almost didn't want to know where they came from.

"The riptides just off your coast are very strong," he explained with a wry smile. "Another one of my father's traps for your country, he made them strong enough to pull entire ships off course."

"You shouldn't be doing this for us," she frowned, touching a particularly large spot.

He watched her fingertips trail across his skin. "It's the right thing to do."

"Suppose your father catches you. What will happen to you?"

"Haven't really thought about it. It'd be dumb to hope his fatherly love will prevent him from boiling my blood and cooking me from the inside out with a zap, but it keeps me going."

"It's hard to believe you're actually his son sometimes."

"Trust me," he muttered. "It's not that much of a stretch."

"What was your mother like?"

His face went slack. "What do you mean?"

Her hand dropped to the rock, caught by his own. "I mean, was she a goddess? A mermaid? A human, like me?"

"Oh. I guess that would be confusing. See, I'm what you would call a half blood. My mother, still alive, by the way, was a nymph. Poseidon adored her, which of course made his wife very angry."

"Half god, half nymph," she nodded.

"She always said I looked just like him and I always thought that was a good thing, right up until I met him."

"Oh."

She actually quite liked how he looked. White scars criss crossing his upper body from old fights stood out with his tan complexion and the way his hair dried into a dark, disheveled mess made her want to run her fingers through the thick locks.

Not that she would ever, ever tell him that.

"She would like you," he laughed, his eyes sparkling brightly. "Both of you agree that I'm the cause of early gray hairs."

"Maybe if you didn't throw yourself at every sea monster who swims your way, I wouldn't have to worry!"

"Only acting out of civic duty," he seriously said, a smile cracking through his facade.