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Percy had seen many things in his life as a demigod.
He had seen wars, he had seen pain, anxiety, fear, deaths. He had suffered and bled.
He was a demigod, and he knew that he was born with the sole purpose of dying at the end of it.
This was how they were made, demigods.
Condemned to an existence of pain and passion.
Percy hadn't always understood what it meant, not being normal. A part of him, a part he had tried to deny but knew he couldn't, was happy to discover he was a demigod. To be able to claim his inheritance as the son of the sea god.
Because a part of him had hated living as the strange boy, as the unwanted son of his stepfather and as the criminal .
Nobody ever believed him.
And then he discovered he was a demigod and had never been happier. He had a father who was proud of him. He had friends his age, cousins, who supported him. That they believed him.
And Percy was so proud of it.
But, then, the war had happened and Percy had lost that spark he had at the beginning.
His father loved him, yet he sent him to fight and die as if he meant nothing.
His friends believed him and supported him, unless there was no one else to believe.
And his cousins? Thalia tolerated him and Nico had wanted him dead for a period of time.
Maybe Greek families were a bigger mess than American ones, but Percy knew he was useful to the gods and demigods. Useful , that's all.
Loved, probably. But not as f amily . As an acquaintance, as a passing figure.
And Percy sometimes just wanted to yell at them to look at him, to see him. To appreciate him, and not just for his fighting skills.
But, the boy never actually did it. He never demanded any of their attention, preferring to accept their jokes, some playful, some less so, rather than lose their friendship.
But that didn't mean that Percy liked these jokes. It didn't mean he didn't feel hurt by their pranks.
So, the boy took refuge beneath the waves, seeking shelter in his father's kingdom, as calm beneath the waves as he could not be on the surface.
“Percy.”
It was under the waves that Poseidon appeared to him.
Percy quickly wiped away his tears, hoping his father missed the childish action he had done.
Judging by the knowing smile the god was giving him, Percy must have failed.
"Dad." Percy murmured. "What are you doing here?"
“I have been warned of your presence, my son.” Poseidon sat next to his son on the seabed, accepting the silence that his son would offer him until he changed his mind.
After a few minutes of the two watching the fish swim around them, drawn to their master and youngest son, Percy murmured. “Do you ever regret it?”
Poseidon looked at him, raising a questioning eyebrow.
“To have broken the oath.” Percy clarified, looking into his father's identical eyes. “Do you ever regret having fathered me?”
Poseidon chuckled. “There are a lot of things I regret, in retrospect.” Poseidon admitted, watching as a fish hit Percy with its head and then quickly swam back to the group he had momentarily moved away from to get a closer look at the son of the sea god. “Having you as a son is not one of them.”
"Really?" Percy asked, looking up and looking at his father with something fragile in his eyes.
"Really." Poseidon smiled. "Never. Not when you were born, not when you accomplished your countless quests. Not when you've subdued a Primordial to your power or when you've overcome Tartarus alone. Not when you rejected immortality to ensure a better future for your fellow demigods.”
Percy released the tears he was desperately trying to hold back.
"Dad…"
“You are the son of my best self, Percy.” Poseidon said. “You are strong, courageous, resourceful, wise and pure like your mother is. You took our best qualities and became something spectacular. Something unique.”
Poseidon pulled him into a hug, and Percy went happily, enjoying the feeling of his father's arms around him without the god fearing for his life.
“I'm proud of you, Percy. Always have been and always will be.”
Percy nodded, his head resting on his father's chest. “Don't leave me, please.”
Poseidon held him closer. "Never."