The wheels of the cart rattled as I pushed it along. Grimacing, I pressed my eyes closed, nearly running into Dad in the process. I couldn't figure out on what plane of existence that taking your kid, who is still sick, still has an infection, shopping was a good idea. A soft groan passed through my lips, thankfully droned out by the music piping through the speakers. Sleep seemed better and better each minute, and it was getting harder to come up with reasons not to pass out on the floor. The biggest one was that it would do nothing to get him to leave me alone, and so I kept pushing the cart, plans and thoughts of sleep relegated to the back burner.

"You know I have enough clothes, right?" I mumbled, staring at Dad with my chin resting on my arms. "I don't need more."

He hummed and folded a shirt over his arm. "You don't have many at my place." He looked back at me. "And I doubt you want me going to your mother's and explaining why I need some of your clothes."

"I have enough in my bag."

"Percy, you have three outfits, none of them are pajamas. And one of them got ruined when you snuck out. You need more clothes." Dad picked up a sweatshirt with Stitch on it. "Do you like this one?"

"I'd like to go home."

"So that's a no then." He folded it and sat it back on the display before sighing. "You need to work with me here, Percy," he said. "I have no idea what kind of things you like to wear, and it's not exactly like money is an issue for me."

I shifted uncomfortably at the reminder. Anytime I could conceivably forget about being a demigod, something had to bring it back to mind. The cart rolled forward, and I walked to the clearance rack. Metal hangers scraped over the rods as I picked through the shirts and pants. Soft fabric, scratchy fabric, red, blue, it didn't matter so long as I could stand to wear it and so long as it was cheap enough that it wouldn't require me to sell my soul to a demon in order for there to be an equal exchange. My thoughts on the matter were bitter. Nothing was ever equal, it was always skewed in the gods' favor. 

After finding a few shirts and some pants, I dumped them in the cart and wheeled it to Dad. 

"I'm going to, uh--" My face flared with heat. "I'll be across the aisle." Without giving him a chance to respond, I walked over to the bras. There was a sense of safety to be had there. Most guys avoided the area like the plague. Tension left my body as I sorted through the sportsbras, and the most stress that came was when looking an underwear pack that had bonus ones in it. I stood. Maybe I could slip away for a few minutes if I was careful. 

I didn't. But not for lack of what, no, the same anxiety I get when shopping with Mom struck, sending me back towards where I last saw Dad. He wasn't there. A soft whine slipped out of my throat. It took wandering through the aisles and a small glimpse of Dad for the feeling to back off. 

As I drew nearer, it was hard to miss the laughter coming from him, and the lady with long blonde hair. I tensed. No. I walked around the back of the clothes rack, staying out of Dad's sight. I wouldn't interfere if it was nothing. Something told me it wouldn't be the case.

"Handsome and a sense of humor, who would've thought."

"You're not half-bad yourself."

"We, uh, we could go and get some coffee sometime? Or a drink if that's more your style," offered the lady with a smile. I'd had enough and poked out from around the rack.

"Hey, Dad? Did you make sure to tell Mom we were coming here?" I tried not to grimace at calling Amphitrite that.  "I don't think she'd like it if she thought you were cheating on her." 

My words had the lady fleeing like a tide of rats were sweeping across the store. Dad glanced back at me, an eyebrow raised. I shrugged and walked over to him. More kids didn't deserve the life they'd have as a demigod, and if I could keep that from happening, well, I'd do it. Even if it cost me my relationship with Dad.

I dumped my clothes into the basket, and a soft sound of understanding slipped from Dad's lips. 

"You could've told me that's where you were going," he said. A couple of Hawaiian and button ups were in the basket alongside the clothes for me. I didn't respond and fell into step behind him, barely paying conscious effort to answering questions he asked. For some reason we ended up near baby toys, and Dad didn't hesitate before grabbing a light brown horse from the shelf. 

The ground rumbled. A hand closed around my heart and I wheezed, stumbling back a step. All the panic, all the fear, it came racing back just like the screams and yelling echoing in my ears. Dad's aura wrapped around me, and I moved closer to the source. Safe. 

That instinct bounced around until I remembered he couldn't do anything up here. 

Dad rested his hand on my shoulder, steadying me. "This isn't my doing," he mumbled. His aura swelled, enveloping me completely. "But whatever it is, you're safe. You're with, and under my protection. I am more than capable of that."

The speakers crackled to life. "Everyone, please remain calm. The controlled implosion of a nearby building appears to have been moved up ahead of schedule. There is no reason to panic."

"Translation," I mumbled, "For a demigod there's every reason to panic." Dad's hand tightened on my shoulder. 

"I'm sending you back." 

In an instant, I was inside his palace, with no sign of him. I blinked and sighed. At least the stone walls were that of my room and not the council chamber or his room. I collapsed onto the bed face first, and I passed out. 

When I floated back into consciousness, it was because someone else was in my room. I shot up. My hand wrapped around Riptide, thumb poised under the cap. It fell away  when my brain processed the presence being Dad. He chuckled and tossed a bag at me. 

"Go get changed."

I nodded and slipped off the mattress and into the bathroom. Out of the bag, I pulled out a nightgown, underclothes, and thankfully a pair of shorts, with pockets no less. It didn't take long to change, but part of me still expected Dad to have left in the meantime. He hadn't. 

Instead, he sat on my bed, and when I emerged, his eyes zeroed in on my exposed arms. My skin crawled. I did my best to ignore him. The bed sang to me, fluffy blankets and stuffed animals only adding to the round. Dad said nothing as I crawled under blankets, nor as I closed my eyes. No. He laid down beside me, and gently tugged me to curl against him. It was only once I'd calmed and nearly slipped off did he speak.

"You haven't tried to hurt yourself, right?" he asked. His voice was soft, edged with worry and something else I couldn't place. 

"No."

"That's good. I'm proud of you, honey." 

I hummed, ignoring the warmth that swept through me. Fingers swept through my hair, catching on knots and tangles. Hands slipped under my body, forcing me to sit. I could whine and groan all I wanted, but I wasn't able to fight, wasn't able to lay back down. 

"You can sleep in a bit. I'm going brush this before it turns into a rat's nest."

"You don't--" The fingers that pressed against my scalp shut me up. I pressed my head back into the touch. I almost didn't care about him doing this, the pain as he began to work a comb through my hair wasn't the kind I wanted, and yet he was so gentle with me nonetheless. Much, much better than Mom. She'd always yank through the knots. Gentle tugs on my scalp, and the feeling of something stuck in my hair broke me out of my thoughts. I reached back. Dad caught my hand and pressed something hard and round into it. The white surface shimmered and gleamed. A pearl with a hole carved through it. i couldn't move my eyes from it, confused. 

Dad chuckled and tilted my head back so I'd look at him. "You're a princess, you know that, little one." 

"I'm a bastard child," I said. No emotion leaked into my voice, it was a fact, a truth of my existence. 

"One who I recognize as my daughter. If I didn't, you wouldn't be allowed near the council. They're not ones to-- They-" he sighed and pressed a kiss to my forehead. Water ruffled the edges of my nightgown. I drew my legs closer. "There are reasons I have for what I do, and I'm not going to do something that puts you in harms way."

"You did that with my existence."

"It was a mistake on my part."

My nails dug into my arms. Why does the truth always hurt so much? I was a mistake. I know that. I've known it for years. So why does if hurt? Why did it hurt every time this happened? By now, you'd think I'd be better at handling this. I stared at the wall, too lost in my own thoughts. Everything was blurred, only vague shapes could be made out. 

"Percy," said Dad, tapping my arm. 

Before he could say what he wanted, I wiped my eyes.  "Can I please go to bed?"

"Tired?" He hummed. There was pressure atop my head, and his heart beat against my back in a steady rhythm. Maybe I could've found it relaxing, if it wasn't making me want to struggle. "Do you want me to stay here?" I knew he wasn't asking for me. He was asking for himself. He wanted to be here so he could make sure nothing happened to his oh so important weapon. His oh so important mistake. I shook my head.  Dad sighed, resigned. "I won't be in my room tonight." 

"I thought you still needed to sleep."

"Not as much as you. I'll be in my office."

"How many rooms do you even have? And where's that even at?"

"Enough. I need to get some more work done for the council. It's right off the council chamber if you need me."

I'm going to go make chili

See yah