Son of Poseidon
Chapter 2
12 YEARS HAVE PASSED
Jab...thrust...swing...parry...dodge...slash...parry...thrust. The eleven year old boy known as Percy Jackson gasped for breath as he fought, sweat trickling down the side of his face, which despite the exertion was remaining properly focused. He'd been training ever since he was 7, with private tutors. All of his schooling had been done via private tutors, as his father was extremely paranoid about his well-being. He was, what some would call, a spoiled brat. He got everything he wanted, both of his parents simply adored him, and no matter what he had, it was always the best of the best. His mother, though she had vehemently denied ever contemplating doing such a thing before he was born, had had a significant change in point of view once he had been born. Of course, she didn't do everything for him, but she was adamant about him getting everything he needed to be happy. His father, well, his father was the god of the sea, and obscenely rich. He saw nothing wrong with his favorite (yes, in private he would admit to percy being his favorite, no matter that gods weren't supposed to have favorites) son having the best of the best.
That is not, however, meant to imply that Percy was actually a brat. He didn't ask for much, really, considering what he could have. He never manipulated his parents into doing anything, well, that is to say, no more than any other 11 year old boy. He did, however, have some things that he'd never give up. His surfboard, his sword, and his several useful accessories were vital to his everyday life. Also, he took his education very seriously. He'd hated learning, at first, but when he saw the look of pride on his parents after one of his private tutors had given him an A on a particularly hard exam, he'd made studying one of his top priorities. As a result, he was now at the educational level of a standard mortal 12th grader. His surfboard was specially designed, and he loved it, spending much of his free time with it. It was painted with a special paint that glowed but also blended in with the surroundings, so it just looked like he was floating on glowing water. It rode currents, as well, which cut his travel time down significantly. His sword, Anaklusmos, or "riptide", was perfect for him, and he was an extraordinarily good swordfighter. His accessories were things like his golden trident necklace, which was similar to a security pass, and let him go anywhere underwater that he liked. His high quality sea pearl tongue piercing (which had caused his mother to give him the silent treatment for weeks, after yelling at him for a solid 3 hours) also worked as a sort of a cell phone, he just had to say "Call..." and he'd be able to speak to them. There was a matching ear piercing on his left ear that acted as a reciever.
His clothes were top quality as well. A variety of polo cap-sleeved polo t-shirts in multiple shades of green and blue, and many pairs of both skinny and baggy jeans, as well as formal clothes. He also had his favorite jacket, a gift from his dad, which was seafoam green denim with a golden trident symbol on the upper left corner. The reason this jacket was so special was because it was made of a special material, which was nearly impenetrable. Only one of the god's items of power could damage him above his waist when he wore that jacket. He liked to imagine, sometimes, that this is how any demigod would be treated in his position. He knew, however, that this was not the case. He knew that if the other Half-Bloods knew about him, and some already did, that they'd resent him. It was a lonely existence. The naiads, mermen and mermaids, and other underwater humanoids all either resented him or tried to use him, and all the Half-Blood's resented his treatment. He couldn't even think about hanging out with mortals, apparently he wasn't protected well enough from his uncles when he was on the surface. So, he just made due with fake friends. Again, lonely, but he was used to it by then.
Slash, parry, thrust. He ducked under a swing and used an advanced maneuver he'd just learned a week previously to disarm his tutor (this one was named Timoleon). He stood, left leg forward and slightly bent, right leg straight, sword pointed right at Timoleon's heart. He faintly heard the clang of Timoleon's sword as it hit the floor through the blood pounding in his ears. Sweat dripped into his eyes but he dared not to move until his tutor accepted his defeat.
Timoleon chuckled weakly and put his hands up in a gesture of defeat. Percy grinned and capped his sword, returning it to its pen form. He grasped his tutor's hand and pulled him up, then swiped the sweat off of his forehead with the back of his hand. He smirked. "You're losing your touch, old man." Percy took a swig of water from the canteen on his hip, and grinned. "Third win in a row."
His tutor gave a small, proud, smile, and said, "Your father's going to be very proud of you, Percy."
Percy smiled gratefully at the man who taught him everything he knew about sword fighting. They each went to a shower stall in the shed near the training ground, and showered and changed into new clothes.
When they arrived back at the palace, the first thing Percy noticed were the grave looks on his parent's faces. "What's up?"
Poseidon put his hands on his son's shoulders and said, "Son, there's something bad happening on Mount Olympus..."
