Title: Oil in the Sea
Date of Publishing: 10.15.12
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians
A/N: …I have no clue where this came from, but it seemed like a good idea. It was originally supposed to be a one-shot. Ain't happening.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
He felt weary. His skin was clammy. He felt sweat rolling down from his pores.
He felt… wrong.
The god of the seas couldn't tell what was wrong with him. The sea didn't help him, his headaches didn't disappear. His aching muscles didn't leave him. His mind didn't get any better. His skin was no longer tan, but more of a pale pasty color. His hair was slightly grayer, and his eyes were a duller sea green. He coughed often, and sneezed.
Amphitrite was worried and his son, Triton, was often by his side. They still hadn't found out why Poseidon was like this, why he was… sick. How could the god of the seas be sick? It seemed almost like a dream, something you saw through hazy eyes. He sent out all his generals, Delphin included, looking for the reason. To say the least, Poseidon hadn't been surprised. He had known it was bad, he had tried his hardest to stop it, to clean it out. But the mortals, so ignorant, kept flooding his seas with dirt, grim, pollution.
The worst was oil.
Poseidon visibly winced at the thought. Oil made him sick the most, every ship that spewed it out from its depths made him weaker, sicker. He felt older. He felt like has was dying, some slow, deadly poison was coarsing through his veins, pumping bad blood into his body, his heart.
"Lord Zeus has commanded an emergency meeting, father," Triton announced, entering the gods chambers with a sense of arrogance. His hands were clasped behind his back, and his chin was tilted upward as he walked toward where the sea god was sitting.
Poseidon grunted, pushing himself up from the chair he was seated in, his muscles screaming in pain as he did so. Triton rushed forward, placing a hand on his fathers back, helping him to rise. Once the sea god was standing, he wasn't straightened all the way mind you, upward, he glanced at his son and smiled slightly.
"Thank you, I will go. Tell your mother I will return soon and not to worry," he replied, his voice low and tired. His features had aged; the smile lines were more prominent.
Triton nodded, moving to the side as his father walked past. Poseidon grabbed his Trident from the wall where it was leaning, and took one last glance at his son, who was standing there with a worried gaze trained on his father. In a flood of bubbles, the god of the seas was gone.
He felt sick as Olympus came into view.
It wasn't the city itself, his body felt sick. He leaned against a marble column, holding his side where the pain was situated. It was getting worse, which meant so was the pollution. The sea was becoming sick. Throwing his head back, the god grimaced, gritting his teeth together. His sea foam colored robes felt hotter with each passing second and his Trident seemed to get colder, the metal feeling odd under his clammy, sweaty skin.
Keeping himself together, the god straightened and began walking toward the Throne Room. He tried to keep his usual appearance, his eyes greener and his hair the usual slick black, his skin the same as always; sun kissed. But it made it harder, using that power. His arms and legs hurt and his head hung slightly, eyes downcast as he walked in the Throne Room. Everyone, even Hades and Hestia (his favorite sister), were there. Hades was sitting in his onyx throne, while Hestia sat by the hearth, tending the flames. His sister gave him a shy smile; her eyes lingered on him for just a moment as he walked in. He ignored her, looking straight ahead, and walked forward, his breathing just a little heavier than normal.
"Well," Zeus grumbled, shifting ever so slightly in his throne to send a glare at his second to oldest brother, "now that everyone is here, we may begin."
Poseidon didn't really pay much attention as the meeting went on, his concentration mostly focused on the fact that Athena was staring at him and the fact that he felt horrible inside. He wished that the "emergency" meeting would finish, so he could go back and finish healing, not that he was doing much in the first place anyway. He shifted upward in his seat, which was a mistake, because he visibly winced.
"Father, a moment," Athena suddenly spoke, her grey eyes still on the sea god, who was slouched over slightly. "Lord-" she spoke the word with distaste "Poseidon, are you alright?"
He glared at her, but his dull almost white eyes had no effect on her. Feeling uncomfortable with the others gazes, he only stared at her. "I am fine, Athena," he replied, waving his hand dismissively. The effort was enough, however; he doubled over, his left hand folding over his stomach. He heard someone yell out as the marble floor came closer toward his face. He did nothing to stop, the relaxed motion feeling to good. As he hit the floor, his eyes fluttered and then closed, engulfing him in darkness.
Zeus, Hestia, Hades and Apollo all rushed toward Poseidon as he collapsed from his throne, toward the hard floor.
"Artemis!" Apollo called out toward his twin, whose silver eyes conveyed surprise and worry, "get my medical kit! I'm a fool to not have it with me!"
The god of medicine rolled the sea god over, almost doing a rebound as he saw his appearance.
Poseidon was pale, his skin sweaty and clammy. His black hair was more grey and white and his eyes, which were closed but Apollo remembered the look in them, were dull and pale, almost white. Hestia gasped, her small hand reaching out toward her brothers face. She stroked it softly and smiled and encouraging smile, even though he couldn't see it. Hades stood over him, with more of a looming presence. His mouth was set in a thin line yet his eyes showed that he too was feeling worried. Zeus looked impassive, his face more of a poker face, and the other gods all looked shocked, surprised, worried.
Athena, however, was gritting her teeth in annoyance. She wished that Poseidon would simply stop with his antics, but as the minutes passed and Apollo kept frowning as he looked the sea god over, she began to worry. She'd noticed his weary face, the fact that his eyes seemed duller. He didn't looked bored, like he normally did, but more like he was just already tired. She frowned, turn to look as her father and her Uncle Hades leaned over their brother. Artemis was leaning over Apollo's shoulder, pointing out things he should do. Eventually, the sun god snapped.
"Look," he growled, sitting up straight, "if I remember, I'm also the god of medicine, not listening to older sister's nag. Now please, let me concentrate, I might actually find out what's wrong."
Artemis blinked, nodded and then stepped back. Apollo nodded thankfully and then stood up. He glanced at Hephaestus, his facial expression grim, and then at his father and uncle, who stood over their brother like they couldn't believe he was actually sick.
"Well?" Hestia breathed, standing up and looking at Apollo with pleading eyes. He glanced at her apologetically, and then sighed.
"Well, it's seems that… he's sick."
"Sick? A god?" Ares snorted, looking incredulously at his half-brother.
Apollo scowled and crossed his arms, his white tunic ruffling slightly as he did so. "Yes, sick. It's seems like he's been hiding it for a while too. Poor guy, it's almost like's he's got a really, really bad flu," Apollo paused a moment, hesitating but then he continued, "It's quite odd, frankly. Can anyone contact his wife?"
Everyone blinked, not really having even met Amphitrite, nor Triton, who was Poseidon's immortal son, the god of ships. Pursing his lips, Apollo turned away and dug through his tunic, which had pockets, for a golden drachma. Flicking it into the fountain that was spewing out water on the right of the thrones, he waited as the mist gathered. "Amphitrite, Atlantis."
Everyone crowded around, Hestia being the only one who stayed by her brother. The others where anxious to meet the wife of the sea god, Amphitrite being the "mistress of the sea". Zeus had seen her once, when his brother had brought her briefly to Olympus. Not that the sky god remember much of the Nereid, but he knew she was beautiful.
The mist began to show a picture. It was obviously a throne room that held three thrones; one in the middle was far grander, obviously Poseidon's. Another was more humble and another was even smaller. Two guards, mermen with two tails and glowing yellow eyes, were clothed in armor and spears, daggers belted to their sides. They stood on either side of the thrones, which held a hoard of shells and starfish, algae, and reefs. It was beautiful, really, in the dark blue light that fell through the windows like the sun did with grandeur over the grey twilight clouds. A beautiful woman, dressed in robes that curled in the ocean water, paced in front of the thrones. Her long honey-blonde hair was braided with sea plants, and her arms, which were tainted greenish-blue, were crossed across her chest.
"Lady Amphitrite," Hero spoke, sending her husband a glare as he opened it.
The lady jumped, as much as one could under water, and spun toward the Iris Message. Her cobalt eyes widened and she swam slightly forward, her hand pressed tightly against the top of her chest. "Queen Hera, to what do I owe the honor? Never have I been blessed with a message from the Queen of the Heavens," the Nereid spoke, staring curiously at the goddess.
Hera smirked slightly, lifting her head, and nodded curtly. Her face suddenly turned grim as she spoke, "Lady of the Seas, it seems Lord Poseidon is ill-"
"Is he alright?" the Nereid interrupted gruffly, a pleading look entering her eyes. Anger flared in Hera's, but they soon turned pitiful as she took on Amphitrite's expression.
"No," Hera replied, cursing herself at Amphitrite's downcast expression, "but Apollo has begun to heal him."
The Mistress of the Sea look relieved at that but soon she frowned. "Bring him here, please, into the ocean. It helps, it seems. You are all welcome," she smiled dryly; "I do not care if you come. I will have the guest chambers prepared."
Amphitrite looked so certain that no one could object; even Ares looked like he was ready to go down into the ocean if she had too. She then nodded her head, as if sealing the deal, and then swept her hand through the Iris Message, shutting it off. Apollo let out a shaky breathe and then turned toward his Uncle. Rushing forward as the god groaned, he held his hand on his forehead and shook his head.
They needed to get there fast.
Horrible ending, I know. Next chapter should be up before next Friday. As for the description of Poseidon's wide, Amphitrite, I got that from the pictures and not The Last Olympian. Sorry if it caused any confusion. The title: that's too come. And sorry for the shortness, It started out as a one-shot. And the brokenness, sorry for that too. :/
As for thoughts, what did you guys think? Bad? Good? Delete it? :)?