***
“Just be a kid,” Annabeth muttered to herself as she dragged Bobby through the crowds of Fantasyland by his small, sweating hand. “Just be a kid, he said.”
“Annabeth, who are you talking to?” Bobby asked sweetly, his other hand holding a lollipop bigger than his head. “Are we almost to Ariel?”
“Gods, I hope so,” Annabeth replied with a deep breath as the promised mermaid grotto finally came into view.
They’d lost Dad, Kara and Matthew after Bobby’s vigorous teacup spinning had upset Matthew’s rather weak stomach and caused an upchuck of epic proportions into the Magic Kingdom’s perfectly manicured topiary of Donald Duck. Dad had taken the crying Matthew to the nearest restroom. Kara had handed her phone to Annabeth on her way to the concessions to get Matthew a soda as Bobby’s face turned red with his impending explosion.
“But Mom,” Bobby had whined, hands thrown in the air in disbelief. “Mom, we’re supposed to go see Ariel. You promised! You promised, you promised you prom--,”
“Annabeth will take you,” Kara had interrupted desperately, shoving the iPhone into Annabeth’s startled hands. Please, she mouthed to Annabeth, please, please please—
“Yeah, let’s go, Bobby,” Annabeth begrudgingly agreed, gripping her little brother’s hand. He was so much bigger than she remembered, Matthew as well, with their curly dark hair and pretty brown eyes. Six years old; they’d be seven in two months.
Bigger than she remembered, but still so small. So young. Children. They were children.
If Annabeth had ever whined to her mother like that at their age, she’s rather sure the goddess would have turned her into an owl.
“Thank you,” Kara whispered to Annabeth, before kissing her atop the head. She kissed Bobby as well, before turning and dashing toward the nearest food stand. “We’ll meet you at Ariel’s Grotto! Have fun! Take some pictures! Do not talk to strangers!” She said over her shoulder. Then Kara turned the corner and was gone.
Annabeth stood there for a moment, mouth slightly agape, hand slack within Bobby’s sweaty one. Gods, Florida was humid. It was nearly gross how humid it was in the overcrowded place.
“Annabeth!” Bobby whined, stepping backward with both his hands gripping hers. “Let’s go see Ariel!”
And here they were, finally in line at Ariel’s grotto to see the famous redhead herself.
Annabeth had seen this movie with the twins on the plane to Orlando. The story of the pretty little mermaid who fell in love, gained some legs, lost her voice and finally got a kiss. The songs were terrible earworms, and the message to girls felt outdated, but Ariel was Bobby’s favorite Disney character, so here they were.
At least Prince Eric, with his curly hair and ocean eyes and deep love for the mysteries of the sea was…interesting. Annabeth thought so, anyway.
As luck would have it, the line was relatively short to meet the princess. After only five minutes of waiting in the artificial grotto, Bobby got to run up and give a hug to Ariel.
“Smile,” Annabeth directed, with an unwitting smile of her own as she held up Kara’s iPhone. Bobby was just so—he was so happy, and maybe he was sometimes annoying, but the kid’s beatific grin was kind of infectious and Bobby was her brother. For better or worse, she loved him, and loved to see him smile.
Annabeth took the picture, Ariel with her arms wrapped around Bobby, Bobby grinning so widely you could barely see his eyes, as the artificial waterfall behind them cast rainbows on the rocks and Ariel’s tail flapped lightly as though waving hello.
“Just be a kid,” Percy had told her. So far, Bobby was schooling her in that department.
“Would you like to get in the picture?” A deep voice asked from behind Annabeth. She turned to find a middle-aged man with auburn hair, his hands outstretched. “I could take one for you.”
“Oh, no it’s really--,”
“C’mon, Annie!” Bobby yelped. Evidently, he’d overhead. “Get in the picture!”
“Um, sure, okay,” Annabeth said hesitantly, handing off the phone. “It’s just the--,”
“I think I’ve got it,” The man said warmly; he smiled lightly, and recognition pinged in Annabeth’s chest. “Go on.”
Annabeth tilted her head and stared at the man for a long moment. His tan and weathered face, the leather cord around his neck. His seafoam green shirt and eyes that—
Annabeth’s eyes widened. The man—god, she corrected herself, he was a god—had the audacity to wink.
Of course he did. He was the father of Percy Jackson, after all.
On shaking legs, Annabeth approached Bobby. She put her hands on Bobby’s shoulders and managed to give something like a smile for the picture.
“I took a few,” Poseidon informed them, looking and sounding so much like a father on vacation that Annabeth half expected Percy to come bounding around the corner. Annabeth stepped forward to retrieve her stepmother’s cellphone while Bobby got Ariel’s autograph. Poseidon tilted his head to the side, still in view of Bobby but away from the line, and Annabeth followed.
“Thank you,” Annabeth said quietly, bowing her head slightly, “My lord.”
Poseidon shook his head. “There is no need for that, Annabeth. I am not my brother.”
Poseidon was not his brother, that was true. But he was the god of the seas. The bringer of storms. The earthshaker. And she was a daughter of Athena. Annabeth had every right to be wary.
“Thank you for the pearl,” Annabeth began. Because that was what one did when one received a gift from the gods. One thanked them and one moved on.
Poseidon studied her for a moment; Crusty hadn’t been lying in that waterbed store of his, Percy definitely had his father’s eyes, a storm over the ocean, tinged gray around the outside, filled with swirling blues and greens and brown around the iris.
“Thank you for trusting me,” Poseidon finally said, and Annabeth felt her mouth go dry. She had said that, hadn’t she, desperate for Percy to leave her and continue on the quest through the Underworld. I trust your dad.
It hadn’t been a lie.
“Though, I must say it troubles me that one as young as you already holds such great regret.”
“Why?” The question was out of Annabeth’s mouth before she could even think about it, and gods, Percy Jackson and his stupid impertinence must have been catching because the Annabeth before this summer never would have entertained questioning a god. Especially this god.
Yet here she was. Annabeth stiffened up but did not take her question back. She did not apologize.
Poseidon smiled, etching dimples in his weathered face, and he looked so much like Percy that something panged in Annabeth’s chest.
“Because you are dear to my son. And he is dear to you, which I fear may play into your great regret.”
Poseidon might as well have splashed cold water all over her face. Maybe he did, he definitely could have, that was his specialty right, maybe—
“Breathe, child,” Poseidon said lightly. His hand moved as though to grip her shoulder, but he stopped himself. “I apologize for startling you. Be calm.”
And, with a fresh burst of sea breeze invading Annabeth’s lungs, she was.
Breathing did not take away the grief in her heart, however.
“I saw the Fates cut his string,” Annabeth said thickly. She bit her lip and looked away from Poseidon’s too familiar face. She looked over to Bobby, who was still chatting with Ariel. The line behind him had mysteriously dissipated; Annabeth was rather sure the god beside her had something to do with that. “In St. Louis, after the Arch. And the prophecy…” Annabeth trailed off.
“A half-blood of the eldest gods shall reach sixteen against all odds,” Poseidon murmured.
“And see the world in endless sleep,” Annabeth continued. “The hero’s soul c-cursed blade shall reap. A single choice--,” Annabeth’s voice caught. She closed her eyes.
“Shall end his days.” The god’s rumbling voice was a whisper on the wind. “Olympus to preserve or raze.”
“He’s my friend. I don’t want him to die. I don’t want to watch. I can’t--,” Suddenly, she was seven again, and it was raining and Luke was screaming and Grover was crying and blood was everywhere and Thalia was dying—
“So, you regret his friendship. You regret knowing Percy.”
“No! No, of course not, I just--,”
“Annabeth,” Poseidon interrupted gently, “Do you regret the ways you’ve changed this summer? Do you regret the person you’ve become?”
“No,” she said firmly. “I don’t.”
“And do you think those changes would have happened if you’d never met my son?”
Annabeth had always been brave. She’d always been smart and quick and bright.
But she’d also been single-minded. Not selfish, but not necessarily kind, either. Unwilling to entertain what she wanted out of her life, beyond what would make her mother happy.
Just be a kid.
“No,” Annabeth said quietly.
Poseidon nodded in agreement. “Things are precious because they end, Annabeth. Life is precious because it ends. A mortal life is a falling star, fleeting, blinding and beautiful, full of wishes and hope and potential as, for that stunningly brief moment, it changes the way we see the sky. Brief, yet unforgettable. Captured forever in the minds of those who saw it and yearned for by those who did not.
“Love things because they exist. Do not fear them because they will end. You will miss out on the most beautiful parts of the world otherwise.”
Poseidon turned away slightly and allowed Annabeth a moment to hide her face in her elbow and wipe the unexpected wetness from her cheeks.
“What does your son Triton think of the movie?” Annabeth asked hoarsely, desperate to change the subject. Poseidon turned back to face her and barked out a laugh.
“He’s surprisingly fond of it. Prior to its release, most modern mortals did not remember his name.”
“And what do your brothers think of the movie Hercules?” Poseidon’s grin turned positively impish.
“Zeus did not appreciate the beard, but the story did paint him in a shockingly good light. Hades is…ambivalent, I suppose. He gained quite a few new fans with the movie, as it happens. It is Hera’s wrath for which we must be wary,” Poseidon said with a nod. Annabeth couldn’t help but laugh, imagining the queen of the gods’ horror at being portrayed as the doting mother of her husband’s most famous bastard child.
“Does it bother you,” Annabeth asked suddenly, “that his name is Perseus.”
Poseidon tilted his head, taking her abrupt change of topic in stride. “Because the first Perseus was a child of Zeus?”
“Because it means destroyer.”
Poseidon was silent for a long moment. He looked out over the artificial lagoon next to them; Annabeth swore in that moment she could smell the salty sea, feel the swift breeze off the open ocean in landlocked Orlando, Florida.
“When Andromeda was chained to the rocks on the shore as an offering to Cetus--,”
“Whom you sent, as punishment for her mother’s pride,” Annabeth added pointedly. Then, she swallowed thickly at the impassive look on Poseidon’s face. Gods, she’d forgotten herself, totally and completely. Poseidon was a god, one of the Big Three gods, it didn’t matter that he was her best friend’s dad—
“Whom I sent, as punishment for her mother’s pride,” Poseidon agreed wryly. “Andromeda prayed to me.”
“Did she pray for you to send someone to save her?” Annabeth asked when Poseidon made no move to continue the story. The god shook his head.
“No. She asked me for an easy death. So, I gave her the easiest death I could imagine; passing to the next life old and warm in her bed, after a life filled with love and a happy marriage and many children. Your mother even sent her to rest among the stars with her husband and mother. I sent her Perseus; the rest took care of itself.
“Perseus destroyed Andromeda’s expectations for her life and her death, and in their place Perseus and Andromeda created a beautiful life together. A happy ending.” There was something wistful in Poseidon’s eyes with the words.
“Do you regret sending the sea monster?” Annabeth asked, genuinely curious. “Do you regret sending Cetus to Ethiopia?”
“Children should not be punished for the sins of their parents, Annabeth,” Poseidon answered, yet did not.
“Annabeth!” Bobby sing-songed, running up to her side and gripping her hand. It was sticky and stained blue from the melting lollipop, but Annabeth held it tightly. “Who are you talking to?”
“I’m--,” Annabeth began, turning toward the auburn-haired man who simply was no more. In his place was a delicate pearl, shining in the sunlight on a nearby outcropping of rock. There was already a hole drilled through the orb, so Annabeth pulled off her camp necklace and strung the new bead dutifully through.
Just in case, the breeze off the artificial lagoon seemed to say. Annabeth nodded in understanding to the wind.
“Nobody, Bobby. Let’s go find your mom and Dad, I bet Matthew’s feeling better by now. Did you have fun with Ariel?”
“I had so much fun with Ariel!” Bobby gushed. “Don’t you think it would be so much fun to breathe underwater and live under the sea?”
“Maybe,” Annabeth replied, catching sight of her gangly father’s dark head of hair through the crowds by the carousel. His bespectacled eyes found hers through the cluster and he grinned widely, waving them over. “But I think I’d like it more to live in the stars.”
***
