Chapter Text
Make no mistake, Percy loved Atlantis. He didn't go there often, partly because he had never been comfortable enough with Poseidon to spend more than a few hours with him, and partly because with Estelle at home, Percy wanted to help his mother as much as he could.
And then there was Annabeth. The demigod had wanted to spend as much time as possible with Athena's daughter after the last war. But this summer, things were different, and Percy felt the need to... get away. They hadn't broken up, strictly speaking, but they had both realized that getting to know each other away from danger might not make them as compatible as they thought.
The decision had come from Annabeth, not Percy. Their approaches to life were diametrically opposed, as they always had been. Where Percy tended to want to rush headlong into things, forcing a conversation to resolve a conflict as quickly as possible, Annabeth had always been more level-headed. And the daughter of Athena had wanted to get away, to focus on her plans for Olympus so that they could both see things more clearly.
Percy had spent most of the first two weeks of summer brooding before Sally ordered him to find something to do to keep himself busy before he drove her crazy. And her mother rarely ordered anything, but Percy figured that taking care of a toddler and a demigod in the midst of an existential crisis might be a bit too much to handle.
That's how Percy found himself accepting Poseidon's umpteenth invitation to spend a few days in Atlantis, and ending up having to wait to be picked up from his royal suite.
His royal suite.
At the mere thought of it, Percy let out a sigh. It was a part of his life he still found difficult to accept. As if being the son of one of the three great gods wasn't enough pressure in his life as a demigod, he also had to juggle a share of royalty.
It hadn't struck him too much during his younger years, probably because Percy had spent most of his adolescence trying to survive rather than really questioning his heritage. Nevertheless, since the end of the war, since he had tried to bond with his father within his own domain, Percy had had to face the facts. Within Atlantis, he was more than just the son of the god of the oceans.
Percy let himself fall onto his mattress and let his gaze wander over the marble and coral ceiling. Beneath his back, he could feel the softness of the seaweed that filled the sheets. It was different from the feel of feathers on dry land, but there was something soothing about it.
“Young prince?”
With great shame, Percy had to admit that a jolt ran through his body when Kámpos' voice echoed in his head. He sat up on his elbows and offered a small, tight smile to the eel that had just passed through his bedroom door.
The kind of eel hidden from mortal eyes by the mist.
Like many of the palace's occupants, Kámpos was huge. His father's nurse was over two meters tall, and her yellowish scales were covered with a thin layer of bioluminescence.
“Kámpos, come in. I didn't hear you. And for the umpteenth time, call me Percy.”
Whether Percy's remark amused or disturbed the nurse, Percy was unable to tell. That was the most confusing thing for him here: he understood every subject in Atlantis, and they understood him just as well. But these creatures were so different from humans that, apart from his own siblings and Queen Amphitrite, Percy was unable to read their facial expressions.
Perhaps Annabeth would have been able to.
The fact remained that despite his many requests, everyone here insisted on addressing him by his title rather than his first name. And Percy had never, ever felt like the prince of anything.
Or maybe the prince of idiots, according to Beth.
“His Highness requests your presence in the council chamber.”
Percy had a hard time hiding the surprise that showed on his face. His father hadn't mentioned any meeting, and family meals were usually held in the private lounges.
This did not bode well.
“The council? Has something happened?”
His daily life had taught him to be paranoid. Unless there was an incident that could once again tip the scales of fate for Olympus, or on a smaller scale, for the kingdom, Percy could see no other reason why his father would want to see him in the presence of the council.
Kámpos let out a strangled sound that Percy interpreted as a snicker, then swam in his direction. It was true that the nurse seemed very calm for an emergency.
“No, young prince, rest assured. His Highness simply wishes to introduce you to the members of the council.”
Introduce him to the members of the council. Perhaps Percy had hit his head a little too hard over the past few days, perhaps it had triggered a sudden bout of amnesia, but he was almost certain he already knew the members of Poseidon's council. At the very least, he was certain that they knew of his existence.
Percy swung his legs over the mattress and let his bare feet touch the warm marble before getting up for good. It was one of the things he probably liked most about the palace: the currents that circulated there were always warm.
The demigod already had a thousand and one questions he wanted to ask, but he knew full well that Kámpos would not answer them. The eel may have acted as his nanny during his stays in Atlantis, but she did not take orders from him. Not really. Despite all of Percy's complaints, in the eyes of the court members, he was still considered a child.
A little stunned, Percy shook his head and walked toward the door.
“Young prince,” Kámpos called out for the second time. “Your clothes.”
Percy frowned and stopped in his tracks. His clothes? Did he have a hole or something? With Estelle around, it wouldn't be impossible. The toddler tended to grab onto anything she could find. Percy glanced at the huge floor-length mirror and inspected himself from head to toe.
No, there was nothing out of the ordinary. His sweatshirt was almost new, his jeans miraculously intact, he was even wearing a belt! If he had to be completely honest, it was probably the first time he had ever been so well dressed inside the palace. Usually, he ended up here either covered in blood or wearing the camp T-shirt.
Kámpos must have understood his questions, because she nodded slightly toward the screen he had never used before.
“You are going to present yourself to the council, young prince. His Highness expects you to be presentable.”
Presentable. Percy wanted to reply that his father probably didn't care how he looked when he appeared before the council. He was there, and that was already asking a lot of him.
But on the other hand... Percy also remembered the one and only time he had dared to sit on his throne, here in his kingdom.
Perhaps Poseidon was much more concerned with the image he projected to his subjects than with the image he projected to the other Olympians.
After all, he had never seen him in that awful fisherman's outfit in Atlantis, and since Percy was determined to try to bond with his father, he gave in.
At least, he felt like giving in, until he finished changing and discovered what had been prepared for his arrival.
“Kámpos? Are you sure there isn't a piece of fabric missing?”
Percy's voice suddenly tightened as his fingers brushed against the silk. Because there could be no other explanation. He felt the current move near him, and Kámpos appeared on his right. The nurse inspected the clothes he was wearing for a few seconds before shaking her head.
He was wearing loose midnight blue pants with fine, transparent ruffles, his bare chest covered only by an embroidered cloth extending from his left hip to his right shoulder. The garment was held in place by a finely crafted golden buckle with a square pattern of interlocking squares. It was beautiful, undeniably rich.
But Percy felt naked. He had never been particularly modest, but these fabrics made him feel like he was from another time, another world. A foreign world that was definitely not his own. Damn it, what would Annabeth think if she saw him like this?
No, he shouldn't be thinking about Annabeth now. His mother was right; he had agreed to come here to take his mind off things and clear his head.
“No, young prince, these are your formal clothes.” Kámpos' voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and Percy nearly choked.
He turned abruptly to the nurse and opened his mouth so wide that a few bubbles came out.
“Formal clothes? These are formal clothes?”
“Yours, young prince. Now, if you would kindly follow me, we are late. His Highness will be very displeased.”
Oh, by all the gods. Maybe he would have been better off staying on the surface after all.