As much as I hated it, Dad was comfy and warm, and it felt nice knowing I could fall asleep on him like that. Sure, it didn't help that itch inside my brain that said something was off, but it soothed that part of me that was still a scared twelve-year-old being told I might never be claimed. 

He had me, loved me, and wanted me---for now.

I woke up to Triton holding me close, and he pressed a kiss to my head when I shifted.

"Where's Dad?" I mumbled. My eyes didn't want to stay open.

"Had some council stuff. He'll be back in a few hours, if he doesn't chew Kym out some more." He ran a gentle hand over my spine to keep me from pushing away. I didn't mind the way his aura seemed to grasp at me. If felt like he was. doing. . . something nice? Or trying at least.  "She's going to get her ass handed to her if she comes near you."

That's nice of him. I frowned. As if sensing the churning thoughts in my head, Triton tucked my blanket around me and continued,

"You almost killed yourself because Kym pushed you over the edge, honey. Dad's--"

"Honey?" I scrunched my nose.

"I'm kinda pulling from having daughters here, shush."

"Mom calls me that."

"See? Perfectly acceptable choice."

"For a parent." I laughed.

Triton's lips pulled into a thin, watery smile. He brushed his fingers over my cheek, tracing the bones and ridges of my face. He had that look Mom did when she was about to cry, and I wondered what I did wrong. 

"Dad's worried," he said, "and pissed that Kym hasn't left yet."

"She's his daughter too."

He sat up suddenly; I clung to him. "You want to go down there?" He nodded to the blanket pile. "It looks comfy." Not a choice. No, because he got up and carried me there anyway. Arranged me in the stuffed animals and blankets.

I didn't mind. The haze of Dad's aura lingered, and I grabbed a stuffed animal to bury my face into.

"Soft," I mumbled. Like this, it was easy enough to forget about my half-sister. Nothing bad could happen if I'm warm and cozy--except it could, and it would. How much longer could I keep doing this? How much longer would I get before Dad pulled away or ignored me?

How long would I last after that happened?

"Do you want more soft stuff?" Triton asked. "Dad didn't give you much choice, and I should probably get you a present or something. That's what mortals do, right? Stuffed animals? Or do you want something else?"

"I think I have enough stuffed animals."

"Well, I could give you a sheep. Those are soft. Do apartments allow sheep? You could keep it here though. . ." Triton wrapped his arms around me and pulled me onto his lap, as he kept rambling off ideas: sheep went to blankets, blankets went to clothes, clothes turned to him resolving to get me some big sweatshirts.

I pushed at him. "I'm too old for this."

"Hasn't stopped you from wanting me to carry you." I flinched, and Triton sighed. "Percy, this... this is a normal thing for us, okay? There's nothing wrong with you doing this. We're possessive, and family is included in that. I want to hold you, as much as you probably want to be held.

"You're a baby, and I'm not saying that to be mean. You're so young, and we just want to protect you. To keep you safe and happy. Don't you feel better when one of us has you like this? Isn't that why you've asked me to carry you before?"

Thinking back, I didn't know. Was there something driving me to ask for that beyond my own weakness? No. While it would be nice to blame something like that on the gods, I wasn't one of them. There wasn't any reason for it to be a thing. That was only ever weakness.

"Dad's. . . aura?" I looked at him for confirmation. He nodded. "What's with that?"

Triton collapsed back into the pile of plush pillows. "It's nice. You can just---let go." He spread his hands. "No worry, nothing he doesn't want you to feel. Just warmth and love and happiness."

"I don't like it."

Triton frowned.

"It makes. . . It makes everything fuzzy. And that's not good! Fuzzy means danger. Danger means death. And--" I tugged at my hair, relishing the pain of my scalp. "And if his emotions change, all I feel is wire or electricity." 

Sighing, he whacked me in the face with a pillow. I squawked. "You better get used to it,
 he said. "If you don't let Dad take care of you, or you act like you don't want him? He's going to stop treating you like his. And I don't think you want that."

No. I didn't. And that was how I ended up slinking along the wall of the busy council chamber. They didn't notice me, and it would be easy to disappear into Dad's office. Taking a deep breath, I steeled myself and entered.

I paused in the doorway, suddenly unsure. What if he didn't want to be bothered? Mountains of papers covered his desk, and they were probably important. "Are you busy?" He certainly looked it, up to his elbows in work.

He didn't look up. Did he not hear me? My heart raced and moved into my throat at the thought of repeating myself, because what if he did hear me, and he was just ignoring me? Then I'd just be-- His aura flickered around me, annoyed, but that annoyance melted into something else as the strands slipped along my arms.  

"Hm?"

I ran my tongue along the edge of my teeth. "Can you hold me?"

He gestured me over, pushing his chair back.  "What brought this on?" he asked once I was settled on his lap. My response wasn't good enough apparently, as he prodded me. Still, I didn't actually respond, only pressing my face into his shoulder.

"Are you in danger of hurting yourself?" That was soft, and the following, even softer. "I'm not going to be mad." 

If I told him, would he take Riptide away from me?

I nodded.

He sighed. It was that type of deep sigh Mom would make when I did something to make her upset. But this one wasn't followed by being gently told to go to my room or exasperation. Dad wrapped his arms around me and pulled me closer.

"Thank you for telling me," he said. His breath fanned over my hair, and he pressed our heads together. "I've been wondering lately. . . How long have you been feeling like this?"

He smelled nice. I wasn't sure if it was cologne or deodorant. I wasn't sure if gods needed that stuff, but it was a scent that made tension melt out of my bones. 

"Were you feeling like this when you climbed onto my throne?"

My throat closed. That was different. It was different.

"Not talking again?" He kissed my temple. "There's nothing wrong with that, little one. Here." His hand moved to the back of my head, fingers pressing firm against my scalp. Strands twined.

"No," I mumbled, weakly shifting.

Dad hushed me. Nothingness rippled over me. And I wasn't me. Not in the ways that mattered. Not in the way I was when I lost time, no, I'd take that over this. "Just let me take care of you. You'll feel better."

I slumped into his arms; my feet dangled over the arm of his chair.

"You're such a pretty girl. My very pretty girl."  A purr kicked up in Dad's chest. Soothing fingers worked at the muscles in my neck. I leaned into the touch, and his other hand came up to support me. "You like being loved on, hm?"

I nearly nodded; I didn't, because that would mean having to disrupt him. Didn't one of the gods do this for their kids when they were at Camp? Mr. D, I think. His son was the only one willing to ask a parent for something outside the cabins. 

"Do you want to eat?" His touch lessened, but I pressed back into his hand. "How about you eat something for me?"

Whining, I clutched at his shirt. Food didn't sound good, but I didn't want him to pull away from me if he got mad. I blinked. Why would he be mad? Dad wouldn't be mad at me.

"Little one." He shifted me, held a granola bar to my mouth until I ate, then smiled at me. "Good girl."

Contentment echoed through his aura. Happiness, warmer than the arms around me. I pressed my head against him, closing my eyes. 

"You're-- You're purring," Dad said. That wasn't the right word, and I frowned. What was the right word?  "No! No no, little one, that's a good thing."

Well, if he wasn't freaking out, it couldn't have been bad. I curled into him, letting myself purr. That still wasn't the right word. It wasn't like a cat, more like a creaking door. Dad's was prettier, a nice rumbling that echoed through his chest and spread into me. He nuzzled his head against mine. I leaned into it.

"Little one," he mumbled. A large hand pressed between my shoulder blades. I let him hold me close. He was warm and safe. He wouldn't let anyone hurt me. That's why he was holding me, to make me feel safe. 

Those weren't my thoughts, but any desire to fight that was snuffed out. He wanted me to be safe, why deny him that? I'm his daughter; he wants me. He wants me safe because of that. Because he loves me.

"I could..." he trailed off, caressing my cheek. I stared up at him with large eyes. A half-formed thought bounced around before being smothered under the weight of his aura. He closed his eyes and sighed. "How about we move to the couch, hm? The papers can wait."

He scooped me up and settled us on the sofa, pulling over the blankets at the other end. With me tightly wrapped up beside him, one of his arms slung around my shoulders, weight seemed to lift off his shoulders. The fingers dusting over arm slowed. Then stopped.

Safe. I chewed on my hand. I could see how far this would extend, what he'd yell at me for. But when his grip loosened and his breathing evened out, I didn't think before carefully slipping onto his lap. It was where his aura was the strongest.

For some reason, I felt like I should be getting away from him.

Instantly, the strands twined around me. Love and adoration filtered through. The empty emotions were nice. The thoughts? Not so much.

Bite.

I grimaced and dropped my head into my hands. There was an ache in my jaw that wanted me to follow through on that. To dig my teeth into something and keep gnawing. The pressure built and built, until I wanted to bash my face against a wall to make it stop.

"Percy?" Dad mumbled.

"Sorry." How did I wake him with that? Was it my weight? "Do you want me to move?"

"I like holding you." Clumsily, he brushed his hand against my head, muttered a command, and had me out like a light.

Hello!

I was debating naming this chapter Baby-a-live just because Poseidon really do be acting like Percy's a doll a bit.

Also, any guesses as to what's going on here? OOoooOO mystery oooOOoo

Anyway, i've been hard at work writing things. Very thingy things

See yah