"Well, what else is there to say about it. It finally happened."
Percy raised his cup, a receptacle that Anastasia had woven out of leaves, in the hopes that he could buoy her spirits with drinking. She remained curled up in the fetal position on the floor, staring into the distance.
"Come on," he urged lightly, "don't leave me hanging."
Listlessly, she reached for the woven cup beside her head and lifted it an inch off the ground, then set it back down without a word. Nodding to himself, he took a swig of his rum and sighed.
"War has been declared," he said, staring at the edges of the leaves on his cup. "I mean, they were basically already at war, but now it's official."
"This is our fault," she whispered under her breath. My fault.
"You can't blame yourself," he said, crossing his arms. "I've thought about it a lot, actually. I've run all the scenarios in my head. I think this would have happened eventually, even if you had never revealed yourself to your father and met me and done all that stuff." She slowly pushed herself upright, and he gave her a sympathetic look. "Some things were just destined to happen. Like the war that's probably going to happen above the surface, too. We didn't cause the rift between the two sides. We were just born."
"Awfully funny coincidence how, whenever there is an inevitable war that cannot be stopped, you are always at the scene of the crime," she grumbled. He could tell she knew she was lashing out because she was feeling abysmal, and, with a mental warning, he decided to let it slide this once.
He took another drink of the rum he had stashed in Anastasia's cave, given to him by a grateful villager in Atlantis he had saved once. "The declaration of war wasn't even the craziest thing to happen last weekend," he said with a dry laugh. "Apparently, I have a sister. A little sister."
She grumbled into her drink, "She is not actually younger than you."
"Mentally, she is," he said. "And physically, appearance-wise."
"How is she mentally younger than you?" She scowled across her cup.
"She's a young goddess," he explained, thinking back to their meeting. "Like, really young. She's only been alive for about a millennium. Or two."
Her lip curled up. "I thought mortals had stopped believing in the Greek pantheon by then," she said.
"I think they did," he replied, running a hand through his hair, "but even if they hadn't, I don't think it would have made a difference. She's never been on land. My father won't let her leave the palace."
Anastasia's eyes bugged out. "What, never?"
"Yeah, except for once when she was little to take her to Olympus. But no, no other time."
"Why?"
"I think he's, like, insanely protective of her. She's not even allowed–"
"Wait–sorry–how can she keep existing if mortals don't know about her?" Anastasia interrupted, her brow knotted in confusion.
Percy wished he had an answer, but he was confused as well. "I don't really know. I just know she's not allowed out, and very few people are allowed to be around her."
"And you're not," she prompted.
"Yeah, that's what I was saying. She's not even allowed to know any of Dad's demigod children. Like, ever."
She smirked. "I suppose you peons aren't pure enough to associate with her caliber?"
He rolled his eyes. "No, it's apparently because she gets too attached. Kook said she doesn't really understand death fully yet. She used to get really sad when the demigods who would visit her died, and so our father decided no more half-bloods were allowed to get to know her."
She scoffed, taking a sip of her rum. "That decision has the Queen written all over it."
He mirrored her expression. "Yeah, I don't think she's too torn up about it."
She gripped her woven cup tightly. "Well, they can keep people away from her and lock her up all they want, but they're fools if they think they can shield her from the world and wage a war at the same time," she said, forcing herself to relax her hands lest she crumple her creation.
Percy nodded somberly, uttering, "That's how I know he's serious."
The announcement had been somber, indeed, with Poseidon addressing a courtyard full of merfolk in full battle armor from a lofty balcony jutting out of the palace. Sober and solemn, clad in the same regal blue robe he had worn during Percy's trial, he had informed his kingdom that he was officially declaring war on Oceanus and Aigaion for the fate of the sea, with Delphin trilling at his side at the end of every sentence.
"This decision I do not make lightly," he said gravely, his voice booming throughout the water. "The loss of any sea life is abhorrent to me." Delphin clicked in agreement, and, lifting his chin, Poseidon stared out to the masses with a glint in his eye. "But so is any threat to our way of life. I will not allow anyone to terrorize my people."
A chorus of cheers rang out from below.
"Or aid those who threaten my family above on my waters," he continued, to a stronger outbreak of cheering.
"Or infringe upon my rule."
Dutifully, the merwarriors shouted as one, lifting their spears and swords in the air. Behind Poseidon, Triton raised his fist, and his mother reached for his other hand with her own. Though she did not smile as he met her eyes, it seemed as if some sort of understanding passed between them.
Delphin stepped forward and led the enthusiastic throng in a patriotic chant, a task that the warriors undertook with a fervor that Percy could only describe as jubilant. He was enthralled, unable to look away from their expressions as they vigorously repeated their call to arms over and over.
He felt a small tug on his arm. "Look," Mel had whispered, pointing to the back of the courtyard. At the fringe Atlas stood, wearing his humble crown, decorated in full general dress. His long black hair, peppered with hints of gray, was braided down his back, and with his face in full view, he looked chiseled, like a lifelike statue. Even from a short distance, Percy could see all of the lines on his face, seemingly etched deeper and more prominently than he had ever noticed them. He stood completely still, with his sword raised in his left hand above his head, as if he were leading a charge. As everyone before him shouted in raucous zeal, his lips remained pressed together, his jaw set, his bloodshot eyes trained on his father so far away. None of his other brothers were present. He was a stoic island in a sea of unbridled bloodlust.
"He's scared," Mel whispered to him, clutching his forearm. "Everyone thinks he's just quiet, but I know him. I know when he's worried about something. I think he's worried about Daddy."
Percy chewed on his lower lip, waiting for Atlas to move, but the older man made no motion. "Where are the other governors?" he asked.
"They wouldn't all be invited to make an appearance at something like this," explained Alysia, the blonde-haired nereid from the Salty Lass, at his other side. "One governor is enough."
Percy's forehead knotted. "I thought they were his council?"
"Well, they are," she said, "but there's ten of them. That's a lot of people to have around when it's much easier to just have the oldest represent them."
"I guess," Percy muttered, unsatisfied.
The older Nereid walked up to where the three of them stood at the window, griping unintelligibly under her breath. "Milady, can we leave these filthy quarters now?"
Percy turned and looked around him, taken aback. They were in the female servants' quarters, where all of the various maids and housekeepers slept, but the place was far from dirty. There was perhaps some clutter from personal possessions lying around, but nothing outrageous. Percy was once again floored to see the largest bed of kelp he had ever seen in his life in the center of the room, and no other beds to be found.
Mel sighed, wistfully tearing herself away from the window. The servants' quarters were below ground level, but as the courtyard sloped downward the further from the king's balcony it got, it revealed a sliver of window that one could peek out of by swimming to the ceiling. Across the courtyard, the men in their own servants' quarters were doing the same. Mel dutifully sank back to the ground, ever graceful.
"Yes, Yiayiá," she said, allowing the aged woman to take her hand. Percy and Alysia followed her, Percy propelling himself to her side.
"The Guys are never invited to do stuff like this," she said in a low voice as he fell in step beside her. "None except Atlas."
"The 'Guys?' The governors?"
"Yeah," she said, disappointment creeping into her voice. "Daddy doesn't trust all of his kids. I would know better than anyone."
"You mustn't speak of the king that way," Yiayiá chided, shaking the young goddess's hand. "The king is fond of all his children, and he especially adores you. You are the pearl of his eye."
"I know," Mel said with a sigh. "But that doesn't mean he trusts me."
"You mustn't say things like that, Milady," she insisted. "I will hear no disparaging word raised against the king."
Percy looked over his shoulder the entire way back to Mel's quarters through the castle, but he knew that everyone who might object to his presence was busy at the declaration. Nevertheless, that knowledge didn't stop him from peering down hallways and around corners out of an abundance of caution.
"So paranoid," Alysia teased. "Do you think you'll catch any titans in here?"
"Titans aren't what I'm most worried about in this moment," he said.
They reached Mel's chamber, and after letting the three women enter, Percy began walking in, only to be blocked in the doorway by Yiayiá.
"Men are not allowed in her Ladyship's chambers," she said haughtily.
"Yiayiá, relax. He's family," Alysia said as she joined the other handmaidens with a roll of her eyes.
"It is against the rules," the matronly woman replied.
One of the other nereids with hair so stunningly light it appeared almost white looked at him over the older Nereid's shoulder and advised him, "You're the king's son. Just order her to let you past."
Yiayiá narrowed her eyes defiantly. "I do not have to accept orders that would compel me to behave contrarily to the will of the king."
"Please let him in, Yiayiá!" Mel pleaded, scampering up to the old woman's side and wrapping her arms around her waist from behind. "I want to talk to Percy."
Percy detected resentment in the Nereid's eyes as her defiance slowly melted. Relenting, she took a small step to the side, and Percy slid past her.
"Yay!" Mel exclaimed, twirling her way back to the gaggle of nereid handmaidens by her vanity mirror. Percy followed her, unable to suppress a small smile. "I think we're going to be friends," Mel said earnestly, grabbing Percy's hand with sudden intensity. "The Guys don't introduce me to the half-bloods very often. When they do, I know it's someone cool."
Percy couldn't help it; he beamed. "I'm honored," he said.
Mel tilted her head. "Do you think we can be friends?"
"I hope so," he replied. "I'd love to be your friend."
One of the nereids coaxed a fidgety Meleda into the chair at the mirror and began brushing her wavy black hair. "I don't have many friends," she said, turning her head to look at Percy. The nereid gently but firmly positioned her so she was facing forward instead. "Sorry, Dalia," she squeaked, giving Percy an impish grin through the mirror. "Have you ever seen the castle? I can give you a tour."
"You're grounded, Milady," the nereid with stunningly light hair said gently, leaning against the side of the vanity and regarding the goddess with pity. "We made an exception because it's a special occasion, but you're not to leave your room again until the king has spoken to you about the stunt you pulled."
Mel pouted, slumping her shoulders. "I didn't even get far. I just wanted to know if I could see Atlas's big war room so I can know what's going to happen, too. No one ever tells me anything."
"I'm sorry, Milady," the nereid replied, "but the king was clear. We'll allow Lord Percy to remain here for a bit, but you must stay in your room."
Mel crossed her arms. "Okay, Pearla," she said, her voice laced with resignation. "But it's not fair. I should get to show Percy around the castle, at least."
"He's seen it," Dalia said sharply, continuously pulling the brush through the young girl's hair. As it went, Mel's long black tresses wafted outward through the water, seemingly expanding.
"Oh. Have you been here before?" Mel asked, looking at Percy through the mirror. His hand fluttered up to his chest, but he halted, then scratched absent-mindedly at the skin around the exposed mark. He looked around him at the nereids' faces, but most turned their eyes away, looking a mixture of amused and sympathetic. Yiayiá was stewing on the other side of the room, picking up clothes and shoes to put away. Only Alysia met his gaze, giving him a knowing look while holding back a smile.
He turned back to Mel, rubbing the back of his neck. "Uh, once. Not too long ago."
"Oh, good, so you met me early," she said, perking up. "I thought you had been part of the family for a long time, and they had been hiding you from me."
He chuckled nervously. "No, well, I've known the Guys for a while, but I didn't know we even had a sister. I guess they've been hiding you from me, too."
"They always do," she said glumly.
Another nereid walked up to Mel's side and leaned against the vanity, taking the young girl's chin in her hand. "They mean well, dear one."
"I know, Sofiya," Mel said, nodding, "but it's so frustrating. I like the half-bloods. I feel like we can understand each other." Dalia finished brushing her hair, and Mel spun around in her chair so that she was facing Percy again. "Daddy treats both of us differently. Not like Triton. Not even like the Guys, mostly." She caught herself and drew back. "Well, usually. Is it like that for you?"
He blinked. "Yeah. Different is a word for it."
A smile spread across her face. "You do get it. I can tell."
"Meleda," Yiayiá called out from across the room, "please come over here and pick out a gown for supper later."
The goddess flitted to the old woman's side, and Percy reluctantly stayed back, wary of the older woman's judgment. The way she leaned down to furiously whisper in Mel's ear made him feel assured of his decision. The other nereids quickly surrounded him.
"So, son of the sea god," Dalia said with a coy smile, her stony façade wiped away, "it seems you've been chosen."
He felt suddenly nervous, his shoulders tensing. "Chosen?" he repeated.
"The boys don't always bring the half-bloods around here," Alysia said in a teasing manner, flicking her straight blonde tresses out of her eyes. "You must have made a good impression on them."
"Yeah, well, I think Kook likes me," he said. "I mean–Lord Azaes."
They giggled. It smacked somewhat of derision to Percy.
"You don't have to be so formal with us," a nereid with brown curls said. "We know their nicknames."
"Oh. My bad."
They laughed again. Alysia and the girl who had just spoken exchanged a loaded glance.
"Okay, full disclosure: we've seen you in the bar from time to time," said the girl with curly brown hair.
Alysia reached out and rested a delicate hand on his shoulder. "Do you remember me?" she asked with coquettish charm.
Percy nodded, his mouth suddenly dry.
"Do you recognize me?" the other girl asked. Percy shook his head. "Boo. That's okay. My name is Pelipa, by the way."
She held out her hand, bent limply at the wrist. Percy reached out and shook it, but it felt awkward and wrong, somehow. He wasn't sure what else to do, though. But, of course, the women seemed to find it hilarious.
"I'm Dalia," said the hair-brusher.
He nodded. "I heard. And you're Sofiya, right?" he said, looking to the one Mel had called by that name. "And…Pearl?" he said, looking to the one with blindingly light hair.
"Pearla," she corrected, the look in her eyes telling him he should have known better. He noted that the reverence that nereids on the coast usually afforded him seemed conspicuously absent here.
The last nereid of the six flipped her long dark hair over her shoulder and said, "And I'm Eisha, for the record."
"It doesn't matter much," Pearla said, reaching out to give Eisha a light push, "because she'll soon be married and leave us all behind!"
Eisha giggled as the girls cajoled her, gushing about her engagement.
"You're not going to keep working for Mel after you get married?" Percy inquired.
Eisha didn't seem to know how to respond. Flippantly, Dalia said, "It's not as if she'll want to keep being a royal handmaiden once she starts a family of her own," to the enthusiastic agreement of the other women.
"But," Eisha said, holding up her hands to calm the chatter, "I still have a few more months to spend with you all. I'm not gone yet."
In a flash, Mel came running up to their group, dancing back and forth between her feet as if giddy with excitement.
"I'm back! Don't leave yet," she commanded Percy.
"I'm not," he said with a chuckle.
She made him sit in the stool by her mirror and interrogated him, using her hairbrush as a microphone.
"Where do you live on the surface?"
"Manhattan," he replied. She blinked without recognition. He added, "New York."
"And who is your mother?" she asked.
He was taken a bit aback by her bluntness. "Um, a mortal named Sally Jackson," he said.
She nodded as if all this were fascinating to her. "And have you ever seen a monster?"
"Oh, tons," he said emphatically. Her eyes gleamed.
She continued to pepper him with questions, mostly about the monsters he had faced and the quests he had undertaken, both for his father and for Camp Half-Blood. She seemed particularly taken by the idea of a camp for heroes, as well as all the quirks that came with living on land.
Eventually, Yiayiá approached them with her arms crossed. "Milady, it has been hours. Lord Perseus must be allowed to leave now so as to avoid being seen."
Mel scrunched up her face, exhaling loudly through her nose, but she didn't fight the command. "When are you going to be back down here, Percy?" she asked hopefully.
He stood, stretching upward. "I meet with Atlas once a month. I sometimes make an extra trip to see Kook if I'm in the area, usually on weekends."
She grabbed his arm and shook it forcefully, practically vibrating with excitement. "You should come see me when you do that!"
He laughed, lifting his arm above his head and raising her with it through the water. She giggled in glee as he tried to shake her loose, to no avail. Finally, she let go, and he smiled warmly at her.
"Of course, I will," he assured her.
Recalling their goodbye now, Percy could feel Anastasia's cynical judgment creeping into his skull, and he grimaced.
"I'm just saying," she said out loud, "how are you going to ensure you're not caught if you make a habit of sneaking into the palace?"
"I can current travel," he insisted. "Now that I know where she is, I can get there sneakily. I'll go through the servant's tunnel that connects to the bar. I'll be careful."
"You'll be dead," she countered, "and I'll laugh."
"You always doubt me. You'll see." He shook his head as he raised his rum to his lips, taking a long draught. "I can't believe my father produced someone so sweet."
Anastasia barked out a laugh, clutching her side. "Oh, I know! That, we can agree on."
"She's just so…innocent!"
"No wonder he's so protective of her."
"Right?" Percy drained the last dregs of his drink, summoning all the drops clinging to the sides of the cup into his open mouth. Setting his cup down, he smacked his legs. "Alright, I know I said I'd hang out with you while you took the news, but like I told you before, I can't stay long during March Madness."
Anastasia rolled her eyes. "Gods forbid something be more important than men in shorts throwing a ball around."
"Hey, it matters to me, okay?" He stood up and stretched. "It only happens once a year. And it's down to the elite eight. And this year, my mom and I made Paul do a bracket with us, so we're using it as sort of a bonding activity."
She rolled her eyes. I don't actually care, I'm just giving you shit.
I know.
"So, is he living with you guys or not? Where are you at with that?" she asked, her voice taking on a faraway tone as she hugged her knees to her chest. Percy could feel her mentally preparing to be alone again, already contemplating curling back up on the ground in the fetal position.
"Kind of," he said, inching away. "He's got a bunch of stuff at our place, but he still has his apartment, and he spends most nights with us and goes home a few times a week. It's sort of a gradual thing."
"Super," she deadpanned. He knew she was getting emotional again, and he was torn between feeling obligated to stay and wanting to leave. With a flick of her head, she nodded him off. "If he does better than you in this bracket thing," she said, dismissing him, "then you have to get wasted on vodka with me."
"You're on," he replied, saluting as he strode off. "But, if I win, you're not allowed to complain at all the next time I train you at swordfighting. And you have to thank me."
"I never complain," she lied, rolling her eyes. He held his middle finger up over his head as he walked away.
He materialized in the Sound moments later, and, making sure his shirt was securely stuffed in his back pocket, he called out Calli's name. "Hello! Passing through!"
She appeared before him almost instantly, clutching the sides of his shoulders. "Percy!"
Chuckling, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her in. She started, seemingly caught off guard, and he halted in his tracks.
"Oh–I'm sorry," he said awkwardly.
"No–I'm–it's okay," she sputtered, blushing violently. "I'm sorry." She held out her arms tentatively for a hug, and he stiffly obliged, wondering why she was behaving so bizarrely.
"Are you okay?" he asked in a hushed tone.
She pulled back and looked into his eyes, hers wide with worry. "Percy, we have an issue."