Characters: Sally, Paul, Poseidon
Summary: He's the one who inks the illustrations to their fairytale. Forgotten but always present – bleeding into the background as the foreground takes to the stage.
Pairings: - PaulxSally / PoseidonxSally -
Warnings/Spoilers: Maybe a tiny spoiler? But I honestly forgot it even happened until I started writing this.
Timeline: Between 'The Battle of the Labyrinth' and 'The Last Olympian'
A/N: I couldn't choose characters but I think this suits the theme anyway!Defiantly not my best piece. I think I rushed it. I'll probably go over it and all that jazz later. HAPPY NEW YEAR!
Disclaimer: Rick Riordan owns The Percy Jackson Series
-No more fairytales-
He's just the artist. He can never be a participant. Poseidon knows this but still wishes he could get inside.
It is a storybook marriage to all those who know, for they are perfectly suited to each other. Never has there been a more loving and functional marriage, to the eyes of the world at large, than that of Sally Jackson and Paul Blofis.
He watches as Sally, as beautiful as she's ever been with brown locks curled up on her head and nails painted and pristine, he watches as she scans the densely crowded room for any sign of him, when nothing catches her deep blue eyes which, he notices, tend to sparkle in the light, she turns her head back to her new husband and smiles up at him with pearly white teeth.
She cannot see the father of her only child - For he is just a watcher and nothing more than a watcher.
And so, doing what a watcher would do, he observes the reception. Sea-green eyes picking up on every detail.
He paints with all the colours of the rainbow, for this is a special occasion.
Red for the carpet, orange and yellow for the burnished bronze, dull and coppery shades of the lights. Green for the colour of the bridesmaids dresses whilst blue paint to match a blue dress – tight around her middle then flowing out with such finesse and grace. He smiles as he thinks to himself that it looks like a waterfall is starting around her torso and cascading down her legs. It couldn't have suited her more. Blue dye tarnishes his fingers.
Every contour and every happy detail is dyed with vibrant shades. Every smiling face, a kiss and a hug here and there. He wonders for a moment how to illustrate the warmth of the room. How to paint in the music and the flow of words?
It takes time to realise that he's just being selfish – wanting her to himself. Taking her away from her the mortal worlds she belongs in. She has moved on, obviously, but he hasn't. He continues to wallow in his self-pity.
Poseidon takes as little time as he must to focus on the groom. He looks neat enough – an immaculate suit and an honourable face. He thinks that he can be trusted with carrying Sally's heart, as he did year before.
All he can do is stain his hands with the watercolours used and yearn that he could take the place of the groom.
He watches on.
Paul whispers something into the bride's ear. Whatever comment has passed between them has instantly caused Sally's face to light up. She smiles and wraps her somewhat skinny arms around his neck as the groom leans down to, softly but surely, kiss his new wife.
A simple gesture and Poseidon feels his insides dying. But he puts on a brave face. The gods shall not interfere tonight – this is a special occasion after all. No matter how far away Sally might go from him, he'll watch over her as long as she lives. And he knows that he's got all the time in the world to do just that.
With a satisfied sigh, Poseidon leans back on his throne and adores the latest page of their fairytale.
For he's the one who inks the illustrations to their fairytale. Forgotten but always present – bleeding into the background as the foreground takes to the stage.
But without him - there would be no more happy endings.