Golden dust swirled through the water, caught in a current. It glimmered it the soft light cast by Riptide, even as the sword rested on my shoulder. The sand under my feet crunched as I rocked my weight back. I sighed. Another tally on the list, another monster that would look for revenge. Returning Riptide to pen form and slipping it into my pocket, I pressed my fingers to the scratches. Dark, thick blood welled out of them. I didn't dare let my touch wander up to the deep punctures on my shoulder. They still ached. As long as I didn't move my arm too much, it was just that. An ache, not burning shooting pain that made me sick. 

If I touched it, the bite would be all the more real, and there was no use in making it more likely to get infected. Not that there was a reason to do anything to prevent it.

If it got infected, well, it got infected. Sure, it'd bring pain, suffering, but that's what I needed, what I deserved. The added excuse I would get was a bonus. It would be one of the few times I wasn't expected to be useful. Of course, I pressed my lips together, Dad could be completely different than Chiron. Chiron's dealt with demigods for years, Dad hasn't, not really. 

 I stared down at my hand. Blood and dust covered my fingers, the golden flecks giving the illusion that I was something more than a demigod. Clicking my tongue, I turned around. Couldn't let Dad think his oh so precious weapon got taken again. He wouldn't like that. I knew that, of course I did, and I'd made sure to keep track of the way back to the palace. 

So I swam back. I was upset, having to cut my time short but it wasn't anything I really wanted to do. Couldn't do much that I wanted. Even this wasn't technically allowed. The edge of the window scraped against my legs. I released a breath. Safe.

Provided Dad didn't decide to grab an office chair and a floor lamp somewhere. 

Gritting my teeth, I wrapped a bandage around my shoulder, let the scratches heal with the barest touch of water. I cleaned up, changed, and slipped into bed. There was no sign of Dad. 

As soon as my head hit the pillow, I was out. 

Two days. 

Two days and that was all it took. 

Two days for Dad to notice I hadn't left my room except to eat. Two days for him to give me that look. And of course he'd want to talk. Of course, of course, of course. Today of all days. 

I groaned and pulled my covers tighter around me. I was pretty sure I'd pulled off the fitted sheet and had it tangled around my legs. Why am I so cold? A shiver ran through my body. 

"Percy?" called Dad. I nestled deeper into my blankets, and I debated the benefits of smothering myself under my pillow. The door cracked open. Heavy footsteps. My breath caught. The mattress dipped as Dad sat. Without thinking, I curled towards him. He's usually warm. Maybe he'll hold me if I- no. Can't. I can't ask that.  Nausea washed over me. I groaned again. My teeth dug into the skin of my hand. 

Dad drew my hand away. The rough cloth of his shirt scratched against it, wiping away saliva. "Don't do that."

"Don't feel good," I slurred. After allowing my eyes to fall closed for a second, and forcing them back open, I risked a glance up. A frown marred Dad's face. He reached a hand towards me. I flinched, breath catching in my throat. All he did, all he did was rest his palm on my forehead. 

"You have a fever," mumbled Dad, a crease between his brows. 

"No I don't."

The hand slid away. He kissed my forehead. For a moment, I was home and he was Mom. "You're burning up." Dad slowly guided me up to a sitting position, which quickly turned into a leaning position. My shoulder hurt, ached, burned. "You haven't been around anyone who could've gotten you...Have you taken anything?"

I shook my head, half wanting to bury myself back under my blankets. "Do you have Tylenol?"

"Unfortunately, no. But I can take you to the healer," said Dad. I didn't get a choice. In a moment, I was eased into his arms and he stood. With my good arm, I clutched at his shirt. He wouldn't drop me, right? Whining, I shifted. Dad hushed me and pressed his cheek against my hair. "Here we are. It's okay."

Dad stepped into the infirmary, and then what happened was lost to me. I couldn't understand the language he spoke to the healer. It was old. Older than Greek. Or maybe it was just a variant of Atlantean I didn't know? He sat me on a seat. All my willpower went to not moving. Sit still, look well-behaved. Don't lean back against Dad. 

Words repeating like a mantra, I almost didn't notice and the healer pressed her hands on my shoulders. Almost, because the pressure made flames rise up under my skin. A whine slipped past my lips. Water closed in. My shirt disappeared, and deft fingers worked at my wrapped injuries. 

The bandages pulled at the scabs, and I cried out. Dad's voice hardened. Then he sighed and softer said to me, "You went outside."

I nodded.

Hands touched my arm again. The pain came back, worse. Hands guided me down until my head rested on Dad's lap.  I breathed out through my mouth, short panted breaths. Dad ran his fingers through my hair. One hand took mine. I whined. 

A piece of leather was shoved into my mouth, resting between my teeth. I didn't realize why until the healer started messing with the wound. Lurching, I tried to fight free. But what use was in that? Dad was here. He overpowered me. 

"It'll be over soon," he said.

It took far too long for that to come to pass. Clean bandages wrapped around the packed wound. I spit the piece of leather out, working my jaw to get the feeling to go away. 

"Have her take a leaf three times a day," said the healer, handing Dad a bundle of blue-purple plants. "I would not risk giving her godly food. Too much of it, and it will burn her away. Quite literally in this sense. Ah, apologies, my Lord. I am not--"

"It's fine. You would know better than I. I'm not my nephew after all." Dad prodded me up. The chair seemed even harder against my tailbone, and my eyes focused on the stone wall. There weren't really any decorations. "Are there any fever reducers here?"

"Her temperature is not dangerous, and it should help with the infection, so I would rather not give her any."

I grimaced. As much as I hated taking medicine, and as much as a lot of medicine had diminished effects on demigods, it would've done something. As it was, I wanted to curl back up in bed. I turned to Dad, question on my tongue.

He interrupted before I could begin. "You're staying with me. All I have to do is a meeting with the council."

Shoulders falling, I nodded. He stood up, and I didn't give him a chance. If he was going to get tired of me, might as well do something that's nice. I clung to his back.  A piggyback ride like before. His muscles tensed under me, only to relax. Dad wrapped his hands around my legs. I was practically purring at the gentle gait and the steady thrum of his heart. The only thing that could make it better was a nice blanket and maybe laying down again. 

"Do you want to explain how you had a bite wound that deep on your shoulder? Or why you didn't get it treated?"

"Tired."

"Which of those is that an answer to?"

I hummed and pressed my face into his shoulder. Dad sighed, doors opened, and soft chattering stopped. Echoes of Dad's footsteps bounced off the walls. I didn't let go of him, yet I found myself sitting on the bench beside him.

All eyes on me, I sat ramrod straight. Spiking pain drilled through my skull. I could deal with this. It was fine. Even as I reassured myself, two words played in my head.

Don't move. Don''t move. 

Fingers pulled through my hair and Dad tugged me against his side. Warmth pressed around me.  "You can rest," mumbled Dad. My eyes fluttered closed. Eventually, I wrapped one arm around him and leaned closer. My face was hidden from the council, and I didn't mind that. Everything they were talking about went over my head anyway. 

Something clicked on the table in front of me. My face stayed pressed to Dad's shirt.

"Thank you," said Dad.

"It is my pleasure, my Lord."

Dad prodded me and pulled me away. I blinked and groaned at the onslaught of light. "Eat a little bit, okay? It's not anything heavy."

I picked up the spoon and sipped at the soup. Dad let me stay sitting where I was. Our legs were pressed together and his arm jostled mine. I'm safe. Spoonful after spoonful, and then mother of pearl hit stone.

"Try to eat a bit more." I shook my head and leaned against him. Instead of pressing me, he sighed. He wrapped an arm over my shoulders. Lower, he muttered, "You're not allowed to go anywhere without a guard."

Fluff!

By the most minimal of standards it is technically fluff!

Also yes, I saw my chance with the title and I took it

See yah