Chapter Text
Triton peers at the child in front of him. She looks back at him contemplatively, blinking in a way that is actually very cute– wait, no! Not cute. That is a forbidden half-blood that his father created, specifically by cheating on his mother. Again. Triton is not in the habit of calling the mortal bastards 'cute'. They represent the one thing he absolutely despises about his father and–
Oh Styx, she's pouting. She's pouting like Rhode. This is a disaster.
"Are you my dad?"
Triton sputters. "Why would you say that?"
The girl cocks her head to the side, like Kym used to as a child. "Mamma says my dad was lost at sea. Tina says that if you pray hard enough for something to happen and be good, it does. You came out of the sea right now and I really wanted to meet my dad and you look like me!"
And her first reaction, upon seeing Triton in the youthful form he usually takes, is that he is her father?
Then, the demigod showcases her true evil: her eyes start shining with tears.
"Unless… unless you don't want me? Gabe says my dad left because he didn't want me so if he's right then I'm bothering you and I'm so sorry and I should go and–" And then a sob breaks free.
Once again, he mourns his inability to be comfortable with crying children. This is Pallas and that baby orca all over again. No, no, stop, don't think of Pallas unless you want to start crying in front of the crying child–
"I am your father," he says. "I thought a meeting was long overdue."
Wait, what did he just do? Did he… agree with the child?
Her eyes light up instantly. "Can I call you Dad?"
What. Just what has Triton, heir of Atlantis, messenger of the seas, god of the calm waves and tides, gotten himself into? Such idiocy is beneath him and yet…
I haven't pranked Father in so long, he thinks, and this works as a revenge too.
"Of course you can," he tells her.
There is no way his father can refute Triton's claims, unless he wants to admit out loud that he broke an oath on the Styx after spending years complaining about Zeus' two demigods. Either way, Poseidon doesn't get a win.
So, Triton takes his new daughter's hand and lets her lead him to her mother. Her mother, who he had coincidentally forgotten about in his schemes. Her mother, who is clear-sighted. Her mother, who looked him in the eye and called him Lord Triton.
The two of them let Rhea (it's a strong name, their grandmother's, Triton has to give it to the mortal woman) play in the sand as they have tea. Or, well, Triton sips his tea like a deer caught in headlights as Sally calmly stirs it while giving him a Look.
"You're not Poseidon," she says.
"I am not," Triton agrees, "However, my sister has decided that she is my daughter. Not to mention, given the circumstances of the oath, this will be safer for her."
"I suppose you're right," the woman hums. "But that wasn't intentional."
Triton shrugs. "I am displeased with my father."
Sally Jackson stares him down for a good two minutes, as Triton decides, mentally, that if his mother ever met this tiny mortal at breakfast, the two of them would be able to take over the world by lunch. Maybe fix some global disasters by dinner.
"Well, I don't really mind as long as you agree to help keep her safe."
"So we are in agreement." Triton confirms. Sally nods.
(Their next order of business is taking care of that detestable mortal man named… Gary? Gale? Whatever. Kym had been right in that murder makes for some great quality bonding time, and Triton finds in himself a newfound respect for the woman his father chose.
…No respect for his father's taste though, even if it does include Sally and Amphitrite. It won't fool him. His father goes after anything that moves.)
Anyway, this is how he ends up in front of his sisters, desperately grasping at straws for an excuse that seems plausible enough to convince them that Rhea Jackson is, in fact, his own child.
"Admit it, that's our sister," Benthesikyme glares.
"No, it's not," Triton refutes.
"You're a terrible liar," is Kymopoleia's response to that, punctuated by Rhode's emphatic nodding.
"What, suddenly I can't have children who look like their aunts and uncles? Have you never heard of genetics?"
"Have you never heard how terrible you are at lying to us?" Rhode mocks.
"Fine! I give up! She's father's, but she thinks she's mine, and honestly, that's safer for her. Our uncles are…" he trails off.
"Particularly murderous on a good day," Benthesikyme finishes casually. Triton winces.
"And you aren't doing this just to fuck with Father?" Rhode presses.
Triton stays silent.
"Oh, well now I want in," Kymopoleia squeals. Of course you do, he thinks. She has never once given up on a chance to mess with their father – the orca comes to mind. Given the general circumstances of their family on a good day, they will be able to pull this off if only through Kym's dedication.
What Triton does not expect is to see Kymopoleia run to their parents, with that devious face of hers, and scream at the top of her lungs, "Triton had an affair with a human!"
Two maids gasp. Delphin chitters in surprise. One merman in particular (Triton suspects this one has a tiny crush on him) starts crying on the spot. Father sputters, "Triton did what?"
Poseidon has no room to talk in this! By the Fates, it's his forbidden child he has claimed.
Mother, ever composed, simply asks, "Is that so?"
"I have a demigod daughter," he confirms. "She is eight."
This part, not even his sisters know. For good reason, given the laws. As if to prove his point, they start talking.
"We have to bring her to Atlantis immediately," Rhode insists, "She's a baby!"
"She must be so small," Benthesikyme murmurs, "Is it even safe to let her be near the land-dwellers?"
"Why would you just leave her there?!" Kymopoleia screeches.
In the midst of this, he can see the cogs turning in his father's brain. The god blinks, counts something on his hands, and turns to face Triton once more; "Eight, you say?"
"Yes," he answers. "Is something the matter?"
Do you, perhaps, remember that you had a demigod that should be about eight years old right now?
Poseidon looks at the court. At his children, wife, and that one handmaid who is basically the source of 90% of sea gossip that reaches the shores to naiads and who then continue it to land and so forth. He gives a strained smile and says, "Nothing at all."
In that timeframe, Mother – being productive and all-powerful that she is – has calmed down his sisters, reminding them that they cannot bring their 'niece' under the sea because she is a demigod and the rules of non-interference are very clear. They have taken it in a surprisingly mature manner that–
Nevermind, Kymopoleia just flooded an island in the Caribbean.
So, the part where they have to convince their parents that Rhea is his daughter has gone smoothly. So smoothly, in fact, that by the next day, all of Atlantis knows about Triton's mysterious demigod and he has no doubt the gossip has reached land, at the very least. If it is on land, it will be on Olympus soon.
In the meanwhile, Triton goes about his duties while also noting that there is a consistent voice in his head. It sounds like Rhea. At first, he wonders if all the stress has finally gotten to him until he realises he's hearing prayers. Well, he doubts she knows they are prayers; from the little he has heard about those land mortals, they think very loudly sometimes. And the girl doesn't know he is a god.
Which boils down to the possibility that the child might talk to him in her head as a way of feeling closer to her 'father', and it translates to him as her very long, very consistent prayers. Triton starts paying a lot more attention to the voice in his head (shut up, Benny, he's not getting attached). It is sweet of her, in a way, even if most of the time she ends up rambling about the oddest things.
And that's why I think baby otters are the cutest ever.
(They are very cute.)
The most romantic animals must probably be penguins. I read they court using pretty rocks and mate for life! It makes sense – if someone gave me pretty rocks, I would love them forever!
(Triton makes a mental note to get some nice, extra rare rocks from the sea delivered to her before somebody can give her mediocre things and win her over because her standards have never been set.)
Blue coke should totally be a thing. It would taste amazing, because coke is nice and anything being blue makes it better.
(Triton will not address this until he has all the information. She bears a strange fascination for the colour blue, and as long as it isn't too out of hand, he does not feel the need to discourage her.)
Mamma read me a book on Greek mythology today! It was really fun. Did you know you're named after a prince? Wait, what if you are actually a prince and that's why you're not allowed to stay? Would that make me a princess? I'd like to be a princess. Mamma says we're descended from royalty on her side, but it's so far back that we can't actually call ourselves royals which is unfair because being a princess would mean I get to have all the pretty gems and rocks I want. Anyway yesterday I–
("Mother!" Triton calls out, "Hypothetically, if a prince has a demigod, is that demigod allowed to be a royal?"
Mother thinks about it, before smiling slightly. "I would say, hypothetically, that the prince has to take permission from the king or queen to confer the title upon their demigod child."
"And, hypothetically, if you were the queen," he replies, "Would you grant the prince permission?"
Queen Amphitrite shrugs, "Why ever not? Go make my granddaughter a princess."
Triton is a very obedient son. He obliges.)