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Paul was in his office preparing for his next class when he heard a voice come from in front of his desk.
“Paul Blowfish?”
Funny, he thought he’d closed the door.
“Ah, Blofis actually. A common mistake,” he said, reassuring his guest (probably a parent) before he looked up and saw who it was. “But I believe you already know that, my lord,” he finished a bit sheepishly.
He stood up, not entirely certain of the etiquette expected of him (should he genuflect like he learned as a kid?) but figured he shouldn’t remain seated before a god. Especially not this god. Poseidon, ever changing like the seas he ruled, and father of his stepson, Percy.
“Yes,” Poseidon agreed. “I believe we discussed that the last time we met.”
Paul remembered the last time they had met. Poseidon had seemed to be amused by the fact that Paul had no idea who he was despite all his hints and Sally’s increasing stress. Unfortunately, the god didn’t seem to be in as playful of a mood today.
Paul met Poseidon’s eyes, eyes so much like his stepson’s.
When Paul had first met Percy, he had found the teenager’s eyes a bit intense and intimidating, the smallest hint that this child wasn’t quite human. But over time he had grown used to them, the way you might get used to your cat or dog’s eyeshine.
But Paul found none of the comfort and joy he’d grown used to in his stepson’s eyes. No, in Poseidon’s eyes was only the intensity of the ocean depths and hurricanes and earthquakes that cracked the earth wide open. Despite the human-like disguise he was currently wearing, Poseidon was a god, and he wanted Paul to know that.
“Should I ask the reason for your visit to my workplace, my lord?” Paul risked saying.
“My son,” Poseidon replied.
Dread and terror dropped like a bowling ball into Paul’s stomach. “Is Percy okay?” he asked before his brain had time to remember just who he was talking to.
“At the moment, yes,” Poseidon said. “I would like him to stay that way.”
“I agree, my lord,” Paul said, still deeply unsure what this visit was about, but relieved that Percy was safe. “So, why have you come to discuss Percy with me, my lord? If you want to discuss his parenting, I believe that that is more a discussion for you and Sally, right?”
“No, this discussion I must have with you,” the god replied, his attention solely on Paul.
“You teach The Odyssey,” Poseidon continued, the threat quite clear in his voice. “You know what I can be like when my sons are harmed.”
So why can I think of a long list of people who hurt Percy while you stood by and did nothing? Paul thought, but he was wise enough to know not to say that in the god’s hearing, much less to his face. “Yes my lord, I know,” he said instead.
“I do not wish to see Perseus harmed,” the god said.
“Nor do I, my lord,” Paul replied. “I only want what’s best for Percy.”
“The last mortal in your position had no such qualms,” Poseidon said, as calm as the calm before the storm.
“You knew about that, my lord?” Paul said carefully. And you did nothing?
“Yes. I would like it to not happen again,” the god said.
“And is this your way of preventing what… wasn’t prevented last time?” Paul asked, trying to avoid accusing the god of his inaction.
Unfortunately, it seemed Poseidon knew what he had wanted to say. His eyes flared. “What, exactly, do you think I could have done about him, mortal, without the risk of bringing Perseus to my younger brother’s attention?”
“I do not know, my lord,” Paul responded. “I am not a god.”
Poseidon stepped closer, studying Paul’s face. “You do not think very highly of me, do you, mortal?”
Paul did his best to maintain eye contact with the god, “Like you said my lord, I teach The Odyssey. I know what you can be like. And I find it hard to believe that as the ruler of three fourths of this planet that you could do nothing to protect your son.”
Poseidon lifted an eyebrow. “I think we both know that man and my brother are far too much alike. The difference lies in the amount of power at their disposal. Would you have had me expose my son to both of them?”
“He ended up being exposed to both of them anyway, my lord,” Paul said, knowing that he was probably pushing back more than was safe.
“Then would you have had me remove him from Sally sooner than he was, without either of their consent?” the god asked.
It was quickly becoming apparent to Paul that this whole conversation was some kind of trap or a test. And he was starting to get an inkling of why the god was deigning to acknowledge him like this for the first time.
“No, my lord, that is not what I was suggesting,” Paul quickly amended. “I only meant that it is hard for me, a mere mortal, to believe that someone with thousands of years of knowledge and unfathomably vast amounts of power couldn’t come up with a way to make the situation better for them.”
“But you think that you, a mere mortal, are a better father than I?” Poseidon said.
Well, I’m actually present in both of my kids' lives so… Paul thought.
“I did not say that, my lord,” Paul said. Then, well, it was time to test his theory.
“Do you begrudge Chiron for his role in raising Percy?” Paul asked the god.
Poseidon leaned on a staff? No, trident, probably his trident. Paul was almost certain that he hadn’t had it before but well… the Mist was making things confusing.
The god narrowed his eyes at Paul. “No,” he said slowly, uncertainly. “My half-brother is a fine guardian and teacher.”
Half-brother. Paul had forgotten that. He tried not to show how thrown he was by the reminder of just how convoluted Percy’s family tree was. He swallowed, trying to re-steady himself.
“So why do you begrudge me then, my lord,” Paul asked, “if Percy chose me to fill a similar role in his life?”
The glow in Poseidon’s eyes intensified and an ocean breeze blew through the windowless room. And Paul was suddenly terrified that he’d pushed the god too far. But still he pressed on.
“I just want what is best for Percy, my lord,” Paul explained. “I know you are a god with godly things to do. I know there are ancient laws and centuries old political situations that restrict how you can interact with your children. And so I am trying to respect Percy’s choices about how his needs get met when you aren’t allowed to fill them and trying my best to be a worthy stepparent to the child of a god as great as you.”
Poseidon’s grip on his trident tightened, and Paul was certain that he’d pushed too far.
Then Poseidon sighed, pushed himself up right, and swung his trident up to rest on his shoulder. “I see why Sally likes you,” he said. “Perseus too.”
“Umm, I beg your pardon, my lord?” Paul said, dumbfounded and relieved that he was still alive.
Poseidon didn’t answer the question. He just looked Paul up and down and said, “Very well. I won’t interfere with the legalities of your mortal adoption process so long as you fight to protect Perseus as fiercely as you have done today and you remember that he is my son before he is yours. Otherwise… well, my hands are not as tied as they were before.”
Paul let out his breath, “I understand, my lord.” Then, “Thank you, my lord,” he forced out along with the accompanying bow.
Poseidon snorted at that. “At least, you know how to pretend that you think more highly of me.” And then he vanished before Paul could even begin to think of how to react to that.
Once he was certain the god was gone, Paul collapsed into his chair, trying to figure out how he was supposed to teach about vetting sources and writing in-text citations after that. But there was one thing he knew for sure. An ancient and powerful god thought he was good enough to be a stepfather to his son. Paul could work with that.