He'd thought it was Zeus coming home when he heard the door opened. He never expected to see his father. They'd been talking - just talking, even though it might have been a little heated, at least on Poseidon's end - and then the Olympian found himself on the floor, the back of his head hitting the hard surface. Everything went black.
And right now everything was still blurry. He'd been careless but more than that he'd been a little foolish. He believed that they wouldn't bother him - that there was nothing they could want from their children anymore, to the point where he'd advocated to the others not to aggravate their parents. Didn't get them very far though. Certainly didn't get him very far.
She was looking at him. He looked straight back at her. He never blamed her for what happened - not like Hades and his sisters might have. If she didn't care she wouldn't have saved Zeus. If she didn't care, she wouldn't be here right now, looking at him, talking to him.
He looked away again, but he moved his arm off his lap to his side. If they wanted to kill him they would have done it by now - even if they wanted to, death couldn't hold him down.
"Why are you doing this?"
Hurt. Genuine hurt - not from the blood loss and Cronus' lack of... well, just about everything that made them human - but he felt betrayed. Betrayed, perhaps, by himself.