A/N: Thanks for visiting! There is a large possibility that there will be more chapters to this. I really appreciate reviews.

Also, I own nothing, obviously :)

It was a beautiful day. In a very unconventional way one wouldn't typically expect from the summer beach. The sun was partially obscured by wisps of foggy cloud, the sky was a crisp blue-grey, and the water was clear. A light breeze trilled across the silky ocean water, placing ripples that chased the wind. The beach was nearly empty, void of the usual sandcastle making children, sun tanning students, and haggard parents.

Sally inhaled the salty sea air, closing her eyes and letting her whole body become consumed by the oceanic atmosphere. She loved the beach and its rugged beauty; the stench of brine and fish, the humid salty air, the rough particles of sand that stuck to her legs. It was all a much-needed distraction from the overwhelming pain and responsibility that grounded her to this world.

Tuning the page of the paperback novel she had brought, Sally adjusted her position on her beach towel and continued to read. She could stay there for hours consumed with fictitious realities and the tempered ocean mist.

Even years later, Sally couldn't say what it was that made her look up from her book, for the man rising out of the calm ocean surf did not make a sound. Maybe it was the breeze that quickened, excited by his arrival, or the sudden stillness of the waves, or the way her skin prickled and the back of her neck itched with a peculiar feeling. If she hadn't looked up, perhaps she wouldn't have noticed the enormous trident parting the waves, or the eerie, iridescent, timeless silhouette of a man emerging from the sea. As it was, his peculiar form changed the second he stepped foot onto the beach. As if he could read her suspicion, his head turned toward her and although she would've normally done everything in her power to keep him from noticing her curiosity, she could not pry her gaze from him.

The man turned his attention to her, the lone visitor on the beach and slowly, deliberately began his way toward her. Sally suddenly became hyper self-conscious of her wildly curling hair, her freckled sun kissed skin, and the terribly clichéd novel she was reading. Although the thought of this strange man-of-the-sea coming toward her should incite fear and uncertainty, Sally could not seem to muster the appropriate emotions. Instead, she assessed the man whose walk suggested someone who had never experience feelings of inadequacy, doubt, or guilt. His aura, sensible even from so far away, was arrogant and cocky. This realization seemed to snap Sally out of her reverie and she immediately decided that this man would not tread all over her as he had probably done to countless others.

Having grown up in New York, Sally was familiar with this self-entitled archetype. Those who thought the world existed to serve them, they had lived their lives being handed everything they had ever desired without realizing that there was a species of people out there who had given up everything and had received nothing in return. As a member of the latter group, Sally had sworn that her association with this archetype would be done so ironically, obligatory, or not at all.

Her new resolve met its first test when the stranger came to stand before her, his appearance obscured by the blinding sunshine.

"Lovely day to be sunbathing." He remarked, his voice sonorous and wild.

Sally had a retort poised on her tongue when she realized that he was right. The sun had emerged from its cloudy covering, stretching long hungry tendrils of warm rays across the glittering surf.

"It's a shame." She remarked idly.

"And why is that?" He sounded genuinely confused at her remark.

"The sun always brings people who are seduced by only the superficial beauty of the ocean." People like you.

"And I assume you don't fall in the category?" He retorted, sensing her dry and clipped tone.

"I prefer the solitude and the simple beauties of nature. The ocean has so much more to offer than sun and water and wild waves."

"Oh? Like what?" She failed to detect the subtle humor seeping into his voice.

"Like…" She grasped at something that would bring justice to the ocean she loved so much. Suddenly self conscious of revealing too much of herself and of her personal quiet place, she quickly recovered. "Like things that my words would not do any justice were I to describe them to you." She replied. Fed up with the conversation, Sally picked up her book, hoping this cue would alert this impertinent stranger to her obvious disinterest. He only seemed amused however and, unseen by Sally; a smile slowly grew on his face.

"What's your name?" He asked, his voice suddenly soft but not losing any of its wild lilt.

For a second, Sally considered giving in and telling this mysterious man her name, to lose her precocious and indifferent demeanor and simply give in. After all, she was being awfully judgmental making all of these assumptions about a man she had met less than a minute earlier. Perhaps he was a nice, intelligent guy. Maybe her eyes were playing ticks on her. Maybe he didn't rise out of the ocean carrying a frightening archaic weapon. He was probably just on summer vacation, wishing to experience peace and solitude before returning to a life of chaos. She scolded herself then, for being so rigid and critical. She was on a much-needed vacation. She should enjoy it and take advantage of this opportunity to finally be carefree and young. Suddenly overcome by a desire to leave her old uptight persona behind, she leaned back on her palms, tilted her head back, and answered.

"I'm Sally Jackson."

The stranger's head shifted to the side, sending a blast of bright sunlight into Sally's eyes, temporarily blinding her. Blinking back the spots in her vision, Sally peered up at the face her mysterious man-of-the-sea. His eyes, an unsettling reciprocation of the sea's own color, glittered excitedly.

"I'm Poseidon."