Why a fox? Why not a horse, or a beetle, or a bald eagle? I’m saying this more as, like, existentialism, you know? Who am I? And how can a fox ever be happy without, you’ll forgive the expression, a chicken in its teeth?
[After the battle with Gaea, Percy, finally home, is fast asleep in his old bedroom. Sally is sitting at the foot of his bed, staring blankly at a copy of Pride and Prejudice. Every once in a while she looks over at her son, as though afraid he might disappear if she doesn’t check to make sure he’s still there. The rooms suddenly fills with a light, salty smelling breeze, and Poseidon appears]
Poseidon (quietly): How is he?
Sally (staring blindly at her book): …Tired. Sore. Alive, at least.
Poseidon (exhaling a small sigh of relief): Thank the oceans for that. For a while, I wasn’t sure he was going to-
Sally (getting to her feet): May I have a word with you, privately?
Poseidon (glancing from her to Percy): ….Now? What about-
Sally (walking to the door): Just out in the hall.
[Nonplussed, Poseidon follows her out. Sally gently shuts the door, checking one last time to see that Percy is still asleep and present, then turns to face Poseidon]
Sally: I’m going to lose my temper now.
Poseidon (blankly): …When?
Sally (narrowing her eyes): Right now.
Poseidon: Well, when-
[Sally slaps him across the face. Poseidon gives an involuntary noise of shock and pain, clutching his face before staring at her in mute incomprehension]
Sally (breathing hard): Two years ago, YOU made a promise to me, while we were stranded in New York, trying to find our son, that if he survived, you would never put him through another curse, quest, prophecy, or geas- whatever those are. And I believed you. So why?
Poseidon (softly): Sally…
Sally (wiping away furious tears, voice breaking): Why did you lie to me?!
Poseidon (simply, with over two thousand years of pain, exhaustion and resignation behind it): Because I’m a god.
Sally (glaring at him): You are also a father.
Poseidon (helplessly): Sally, I’m trying to tell you the truth about myself.
Sally (through gritted teeth): I don’t care about the truth about yourself.
[Poseidon nods silently in understanding, lowering his gaze to the floor. Sally gives a shuddering sigh, face in her hands]
Sally (miserably): I’m a writer. I know how these things go. This story is just too predictable.
Poseidon: Predictable, really? What happens in the end?
Sally (quietly, turning her back on Poseidon, one hand on the handle of Percy’s door): In the end? In the end, they all die. Percy and every child like him dies, unless you and your family change.