Percy slept through breakfast and lunch, never shifting from her bundled ball. It had to be bad for her back, being as tightly curled as she was, and I knew the couch wasn't the comfiest place to sleep--a touch too close to the benches of by-gone years. On occasion, she'd whimper or shudder, roll over, and return to her sleep.

It was the type of sleep you'd see in soldiers who know they cannot make much sound lest the enemy discover them. She shouldn't have been sleeping like that.

"Why don't you move her?" Amphitrite asked. The pile of books beside her had grown, as she hadn't stopped reading since Percy came.

"She's fine."

"She's cold."

I frowned. It took little concentration to keep the water around Percy warm without ruining the delicate balance that kept my family's tenuous peace, so why did she want me to move her? I knelt beside the couch, folded my arms on the edge, and stared at my child.

Her breathing came in steady puffs, chest rising and falling against her knees rhythmically. Her eyes flickered beneath the lids, eyelashes dusting her reddened cheeks. It seemed as if the alcohol hadn't quite left her system fully, despite the length of time. Did she mix nectar with it? That was dangerous for a demigod to do--intensified the drink itself, and the alcohol hid the tell-tale warmth of drinking too much. I'd ask, later, and lecture her if she did.

"Do you think she's going to wake up soon?" I looked up at Amphitrite. She flipped to the next page in "The Power of Showing Up" and took a bite of a cookie. No answer.

I sighed, picked Percy up, and started towards the bedroom. Triton would have to deal with his blankets being messed up. It wasn't a long walk by any means, but it was enough time for her to uncurl and latch to my shirt.

"Tired little thing, aren't you?" I chuckled.

Her body didn't answer, content to slump in my arms. That was fine. Perfectly fine. My hand wasn't trembling when I gently touched her wrist to feel that fluttering pulse there. I didn't miss a step when her hand released and turned to lightly grasp mine. No pressure, no actual grip. It was loose and seemingly instinctual.

I opened the door and paused. Triton's blankets and Amphitrite's were neatly piled and fixed in their spots. All extra blankets had been cleared away, leaving only my portion of the bed with its unkempt appearance. Oh. She did that on purpose. Rolling my eyes, I laid Percy where I slept before pulling a couple blankets up to her chin. I hovered, for a moment, debating on tucking her in or not, and ultimately turned away.

Then the bed creaked behind me. Percy was awake.  Her hand was in her pocket, grasping for her weapon. Her eyes flicked around the dark room, unable to make out anything other than water and blankets and--I silently cursed--an unfamiliar bed. A whine pulled out of her throat. Her free hand flapped against the mattress.

Two steps. I hushed her, put my palm on her cheek. At once, she settled, going limp and staring up with tired eyes. It still wasn't a relaxed state, however, and I sat on the bed.

"You can go back to sleep," I said quietly. "I didn't mean to wake you."

Percy exhaled through the nose. "How long was I asleep?"

"Dinner is in a half hour."

She mouthed the words to herself. Little furrows formed between her eyebrows. I resisted the urge to smooth them away. Not my place. Yet...

"What I said still stands." I stood. "You're exhausted, so you should sleep until your body decides you've had enough. I'll--"

The loud growl that broke my sentence made Percy blush. She wrapped her arms around her stomach. "Can...Can... I, um. Never mind."

"Go ahead. Ask."

"I don't want to--" She waved her hand as if searching for the right word. "Impose."

"Percy." My voice was as soft as I could make it, made of lapping waves and the rush of a swell over sand. "If you're hungry, you can eat." Water pulled open the top drawer of my dresser. "You can borrow one of my shirts if you'd like."

"I have clothes."

All held within the small bag on her back. Two or three outfits at most. Likely shorts and camp shirts. Doubtful that she thought to bring anything to sleep in. With a hum, I plucked out three different shirts--one Hawaiian, a tee, and a dark blue sweater--for her to choose from. They'd be big on her. That'd be better than the too-tight dress digging into her skin.

"Come out once you get changed," I said. 

"Am I supposed to give you some of this?" Percy stared at her plate before pushing her sleeves up again. I was wrong when I gave her the shirt. It wasn't just big; she was swimming in it.

I settled into my place beside her on the bench--Triton elected to sit by his mother's side across from us-- and picked up my fork. "We're the hosts. You simply need to eat."

Percy chewed her lip and pushed herself onto her knees to better reach her plate, forgoing silverware entirely. And it was a good thing she did, or else I'd have feared her inhaling them. Within minutes, the seaweed-wrapped fish was gone. Before I could offer her more, she pushed her plate away.

I sliced into my own food, talked to Amphitrite with the usual dinner pleasantries and light conversations, albeit dipping into heavier topics when talks of casualties came up. Those made Percy tense, but there was no way around it. Mentioning someone we didn't know died was inevitable, more so in war than ever, and when we realized there was an awkward, empty silence.

Amphitrite stopped talking the third time it happened. I'd thought it was in an attempt to make Percy more comfortable, but Percy grew more and more antsy the silence dragged on, without attempting to start a topic herself.

Without warning, she was leaning into my side, hiding there like she could disappear from the world.

"Daddy," she whined. So soft a mortal wouldn't have heard it. Fuck. I wasn't sure she said it. It came out on a breath, might have been an odd trick of the water.

"Are you done eating? If you are, you can--"

Amphitrite interrupted. "You're fine. I'm sure your father doesn't mind." Water tightened around me pointedly, and I raised an eyebrow. There was no reason for that.

But then there was. Percy clutched at me. Her arms could barely wrap around my chest. Had she always been so small? Surely her arms had wrapped around me at her last birthday?

No. It was the birthday before that now, and she hadn't really hugged back. She wouldn't have grown much in... in a year. My expression twisted, and I settled an arm around her, offering protection and shelter, weaving it throughout my being so even the deepest recesses of her awareness would soak it in.

What did it say that I'd softened so much in the years since she was born? Our children have the ability to shape us far more than mortals, if we choose. Many don't because we're only ever figures they disdain, and that disdain heightens traits we'd had millennia ago. Even Ares, bloodthirsty as he is, didn't like that rage being fed until he snapped at his children.

That I offered this... I pulled my fingers through her hair. Did that mean she was shaping my behavior? I doubted she'd see me any differently than the other gods. Her entire life, I'd been a figure wavering on the horizon.

Daddy. The word played like music in my head. Had she said it last night, I could have played it off. Alcohol will loosen the stiffest tongues. An irresponsible, drunk teen could be expected to do something like that. She ran from me instead. And then clung to my hand looking confused when I told her not to hurt herself.

My attention couldn't stay on that while she was snuggled against me. Another soft utterance left her lips, not a word, just a content mumble. Still, she was too old to say it, that simple babyish word, but was she really? Some languages only divided between a formal and informal word for father, and Percy's already erred towards 'Dad' in places that demanded formality. 

Like when sitting on my throne with the gall to--

I sighed and looked down at her. The gall to be a scared child demanding help, and afterwards, when we arrived to a half-charred corpse, all her energy had been snuffed out. Only a smoldering ember that Hestia kept guarded at the hearth.

But her nature wasn't to be fire. Not to burn hot and fast like... Oh damn it all.

A twelve year old when this had started. Even Achilles was older--and doomed to a short, flashing life. His curse, and this realization made me sick, hung around my child's neck like a noose. 

He didn't tell her that. He wouldn't have. How many years would she get? One? Two?

I couldn't dare hope for as many as he had. Not when his flame was snuffed in the war that earned his glory. Percy survived.

"Do you want more food?" I asked, doing my best to disguise the growing horror I felt.

She was already asleep again.

HELLO

I have had half of this chapter written, but I got a job recently and it wipes me out. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it and i hope it was suitably fluffy

See yah